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defmaybe · 4 months ago

Text

J’adore

5.2k words

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

Prequel to Not Shy

A/N: Kind of extension to Not Shy! Also, this is my last sprint before the midterms lol, I’ll be back after that and try to write something good. Kinda rough bc there’s no beta-reading lol. Thanks for reading as always!!!

—

Spring

“You? A student council member?”

“It’s just the treasurer!”

It’s the easiest position, according to your seniors, which seems to be much, much more credible sources than Kai, the friend you got caught in a debate with.

“Just the treasurer. Mate, have you seen the lads from last year? I swear that one of them almost died.”

“I have to build my portfolio, man. You even have your dance club!” You retort, trying to grasp on something.

“Well, it’s because I like to dance.” Kai says in a mocking tone. He doesn't mean to be condescending, of course. He’s your best friend, after all. “Do you like to work with Excel?”

“I mean–”

“Board games? No, too nerdy. Cheerleader? No, too demanding. And then you fucking jumped onto the student council? I swear, man, you definitely have some kind of death wish,” he says.

You sigh, surrendering to his points. Still, you're too deep in the application process to turn back now. You look back at your phone, seeing all the completed questions in the form.

“I’m not leaving you behind, still,” Kai says, patting your back. “I’ll give you caffeine when you need it.”

Do you think you’re qualified to be a student council member?

Yes.

“I’m sending it now.”

“Good luck.”

Submit

Thank you for your submission. We will announce our selection by May 1st.

—

Summer

Maybe it was how the last year’s council members turned out to be. You were the only one who applied for the treasurer's position. Hell, even the other ones aren’t any more popular either. There was no one in the head of first aid, and they had to roll out another round of applications for that.

The fresh faces of the new student council members are all standing inside this meeting room—so determined, so passionate. Their chatters fill the room up with life.

You glance around the room. You’re familiar with some of them, walk-pasts in the hallways, sitting-fars in the classes, until one woman catches your eye.

Yoo Jimin, you’ve heard that she beat the second place applicant for president by quite a margin. Her confidence is probably what makes her so alluring to the students. Also, her face, fuck, her face, she’s the fucking epitome of perfection.

Maybe it’s the way you stare at her for just a little too long; she starts to walk towards you, and that’s when you fell into her trap for the first time.

She stops just a step away, offering you a handshake—firm, assured.

“Yoo Jimin,” she declares—stern, expressionless.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimin.” You accept her grip, lips curling inward, letting out a minuscule smile—relaxed, reserved.

“We’ll be working together for the next year. I’m looking forward to it.” She keeps it professional in the expression she makes. There’s nothing to be made of it, except for the fact that she’s very reticent with her face.

You force out another small smile. “I’m also looking forward to it, Jimin.”

—

“Areas! I need two tables and four chairs. Parcels, get your equipment ready.”

The first meeting between the freshmen and their seniors is always the hardest to perfect. There’s the idea that the first impression defines the future of the relationship between the two. So, here you are, in your faculty’s First Meet event. You’re lucky that they let you use the air conditioners on the d-day. Those fucking run-throughs got you all melted.

You have little work to do today, having managed the proposals and preparing to do the post-production stuff. So, you’re at the core team’s table, playing whatever your old laptop can handle, until—

“Are you free?”

You look up from your screen to see the angelic figure that is Yoo Jimin standing in front of you, towering you with ease with you sitting in your seat.

“Uh–,” you can only let out a hesitation.

“I guess you’re—” she bends over the desk to see the gaming screen, before letting out a small laugh. “—free?”

“Y–Yes, Jimin.” A slight view of her cleavage can be seen with her posture, and you have to do your best to find something else to look at.

“Good. Can you help us carry a few tables?”

You look at your frail arms—should’ve done some more work at the gym. “If you want me to tear my biceps.”

Jimin chuckles, before closing on your ear, left hand pressing on your right thigh, “Don’t worry that you wouldn’t be able to jerk off, treasurer. I can do it for you.”

You freeze, not believing the words coming out of her mouth. Did she just say that? Such lewd words?

Jimin, sensing your tensed up body, pulls back from you and laughs. “Oh my god, look at you. I was just fucking with you!”

“Good grief, Jimin. You could’ve killed me,” you huff.

She shoots back a beam. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

—

Fall

The clicking sound of your keyboard and the scratches of the bills you’re arranging permeates the room this evening. Jimin is sitting on the other side of the trash-ridden table—stationeries, snack wraps—eyes unfocused as she swipes one short video after another. Her thoughts seem to be elsewhere now. Dinner? Bed? Someone? You’ll never know.

“Fucking hell, this bitch again,” she mutters under her breath, which you catch. You look up from the budget plan you’re working on, meeting her eyes.

“Sorry, Tinder stuff.”

You return her a tiny smile before going back to inputting the bills. Still, you can hear Jimin’s tossing and turning in her chair as she seems to type something into her phone, before smashing her thumb on the right side of its poor screen. You can’t help but let out a chuckle, one that she catches.

“Yeah, it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” Jimin rhetorizes, placing her phone on the table. “A student president that just can’t find any partner.”

You shrug, still typing, “Well, the work is gruelling.” And she chuckles at your statement.

“Yeah, I guess so. But it’s just, how to explain?” She furrows her eyebrows, tapping her chin to seek the right word in the air, before coming to an answer. “I just can’t find the right person, you know? Half of the line is gone once I show any bit of confidence, and the other half are, well, clingy ass bitches.”

You smile back at her, trying to give her some solace in solitude. “I’m sure you’ll find the right person soon, Jimin. You like–have the whole faculty in your hands.”

She gives you a weak smile. “You always have pleasant words for everyone, treasurer.”

You smile back before returning to your accounting work, unbeknownst to the light bulb brightening up inside her head.

“So, how’s your love life?” She asks, rising from the other side. She leans forward ever so slightly, hands supporting her frame on the white table, slightly revealing the valley of her breasts.

You break yourself from the laptop, once again, meeting her cleavage in your line of sight for a split second. It’s magnetic, but you’re able to resist it, for now.

“Hmm?”

“I mean… you don’t seem to be an awful choice for women, or men, judging from… how many months?”

“Four,” and you gulp.

“Yeah, four months with you, my treasurer. But I’ve never quite caught you being involved in anything,”—she stands up straight, before slowly striding towards your seat, hips swaying at each nifty step—“romantic.”

You clench your eyes ever so tightly at her alluring motion—the swaying hips, the crossing steps—as if there’s anything to examine but her burning lust. “Well, Jimin, I don’t think the passive mid-table guys get much,” you state.

“Is that so? Because you don’t seem to belong at the mid-table.” The distance between you two is shrinking, slowly. And with a few more small steps, you find her towering over you, chest basking in front of your face.

Jimin bends down slowly, revealing just a slight sight of her gorgeous cleavage. The poor crop top is struggling to hold her supple flesh within, even with the workshop shirt helping. You shift just slightly in your seat.

Your eyes are doing their best to resist the magnetic force, but her big brown eyes aren't a sanctuary, either.

“Thanks, miss president.”

Her Dior J’adore is enrapturing you.

“You know, I notice the perfume you wear every day, even if it’s just CK One.” She forces sultry into her perceptive words, and to say, it works. She drags her right middle finger along the length of your arm, lighting a fire in its trail.

You try to keep your composure; it works, for now. She doesn’t seem to notice the sweat hanging off your forehead yet.

“Or how you dress so damn well to class, even if it’s some fuckass subject,” Jimin continues, tracing her hands up to your forearm now.

Your breath hitches, and you can just connect the dots so easily.

“W–Why me, though, Jimin?”

“Oh, clever boy, I just need the real thing, that’s all,” she coos. Her digits are playing with the line of your collarbones now.

“See, I’m just so fucking sick of my—well, what’s the word, devices. They’re pleasurable, sure, but unlike a real person, which in this case—is you—” Her hand grabs your chin from behind, and you can’t find any resistance. Her sonic reduces into a sensual whisper into your ear. “—they lack warmth.”

“S–So, do you want to have—”

“Sex? Yes, I want you inside me, baby. I want you body clashing against mine, while you moan my name like you’re some common whore.”

It’s haywire, your mind. You are lost in her—her voice, her face, her body, everything that’s about Jimin. Is she really inviting you to have sex with her? Is this interaction even real?

“So, what do you say, wanna go somewhere after this? Somewhere—small, somewhere—private.” Her voice dives into a whisper beside your ear, and you can feel a smile forming beside it. “I’m sure you can work on your bills—anywhere.”

You stare forward, trying to look unfazed to cover your crumbling composure.

“I–I can work on the bills anywhere, Jimin.” Your voice betrays you.

She gives a quiet laugh, “Good to know, treasurer,” before lightly grabbing your chin, with her index and middle finger resting on your lips. Are they seeking silence or entry?

Slowly, they push your upper lip ever so slightly, eliciting a whimper from you. Fuck, is she trying to—

“You know what to do, baby.”

Rejection.

Hesitation.

Submission.

You open your mouth for her—now courtesy of Yoo Jimin. You take in her fingers. They’re cold from the air conditioner. Bite. Lick. Swallow. You close your eyes while doing so, absorbing her taste with your tongue. You feel you’re under her control—so submissive. It’s ecstatic.

“God, do you like being called a whore? Because you’re acting like one right now,” Jimin asks.

You profusely nod at her statement, continuing to suck on her fingers.

“Then keep doing it, whore.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you can hear her giggle. And as your vision comes back to her, the free hand is rubbing against her clothed core now. Mewling sounds can be heard.

“God, keep sucking it, baby. I’ve never cummed as fast as this before.”

“Ngh.” And you keep sucking her fingers.

A sound of the door stops you in your tracks though.

“Guys, I need a few chairs–am I interrupting something?”

Ning Yizhuo, head of student welfare, barges into the room. She stares straight at you two. Good thing Jimin pulls her digits out and puts them behind her back before Yizhuo’s eyes catch sight of you glistening on her, leaving you stranded in your burning desire for your president.

Maybe it’s the way your eyes are still fluttering. Maybe it’s the way your mouth ever so slightly hangs open. Maybe it’s your quick breaths.

Yizhuo wants to know what’s up.

“We’re just–” Jimin tries to find the right word in your eyes. Her blinks are rapid. She’s concerned. She’s afraid.

“You’re–what?” Yizhuo isn’t a patient figure. She’s trying to gauge something out of Karina.

“I–I’m adjusting his posture! O–Our dear treasurer has a bad sitting posture and–”

“Cut the shit, Jimin. What the fuck did you guys do?”

“S–See, he’s sitting a lot, you know? B–Bills. Accounting. Excel stuff.” Jimin’s brows hint at the concern within her chuckle. She pushes the middle of your back to set you straight up. As you follow her move, Yizhuo clenches her eyes.

“Just get me some chairs and don’t fuck inside this room.”

—

Jimin swings her door open, and as expected, every single bit of it is immaculately kept clean. There’s not a single piece of trash on the floor of her white room; the table is meticulously arranged; the bed is folded. There’s a Meteora vinyl placed on her shelf. God, what a tasteful woman.

“Drop your bag.”

You comply as she also does so.

And she immediately pounces on your body, consuming your taste and scent at your nape. Her lips are wet, sending shocks through your pliant frame.

“Mmph, keep this perfume, baby. I just wanna have this scent of you every day.”

It’s CK One.

She plants her kisses along your neck—standing up straight—ever so determined to make you hers. Her hands lock your shifting, shaking body in place, despite being so eager to feel every inch of you—up and down.

“So—pliant, so—submissive,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you deflect, trying to have a hold of the battle. There’s a glint of brattiness inside you that wants to resist her just a little, just before you give in.

“Is that so?” Jimin mewls, before pushing you onto the bed.

“I’m not letting you have me that easily, miss president,” you say with your back against her soft cushion. Jimin is straddling her lean, lengthy legs over yours. She looks so damn tall from this view—you lying beneath her.

“Sucking my fingers, then decide to be a bratty bitch right now—” She lightly taps the tip of your nose, also scrunching hers. “—I like that.”

You say nothing, giving her just a wink from below.

“Oh, baby, I’ll have you scream my name so many times.”

“Fucking make me then.”

And fires ignite in her eyes.

She dives onto your left ear—nibbling, biting, swallowing, whatever she can do with her mouth without tearing your auricle off. Her deep moans send suppressed shudders through your neurons.

Jimin spreads saliva all over your ear, no sign of relenting. Slurping sounds of her flesh ring in your head. She plants each lick with purpose, and it sends jolts and jolts through your body. Still, you’re far from falling apart—tethered on the ground.

“Tsk, i–is this the best y–you can do?”

“Oh, baby, you’re already stuttering? I can do more if you want~,” she tastefully threatens. Then, she brings her right hand into play, tilting your chin up. Your mouth is right beside her neck. The pale smoothness of her skin is presented in front of you, and you just can’t help but—

“F–Fuck!” Jimin yells, clearly enraptured with the swipes of tongue you are giving her. Still, she keeps spreading her saliva on your ear as if it’s hers (it’s hers).

“Oh, b–baby boy, maybe you can use your t–tongue on other things instead,” she whines.

“Your cunt?” You keep stretching your tongue onto her nape, getting a taste of her sweat.

She pulls back from you, robbing the sensations away from your throat. “Clever, now just lie like this. I’m riding your pretty face.”

Jimin then takes off her purple lace panties, giving you a hint of her wet cunt—unshaved—as she lifts her leg, before stuffing the garment onto your nose. Fuck, her musk is so intense; you can just die happily right here.

“You just love it, don’t you?”

You sheepishly nod, pressing her panties against your nose even tighter, eliciting laughs from her sinful mouth.

“I think that’s enough, baby. I wanna fuck your face now,” she says, before tossing away the filthy garment.

Jimin then moves forward on her knees, bringing her heat closer and closer to your face. God, the fact that she’s unshaved only brings you higher. You need to slurp her juice; you need it on your face, you–

“Ready?”

Her cunt is hovering above you now, she’s pulling her skirt up, letting you see her face for the last time before being buried under her.

You nod.

And she sinks onto your face.

The first contact is soft, so, so soft. You’re practically making out with pussy, as she shakes above you erratically. There isn’t much light, with her skirt darkening your vision of what’s around, but it’s like you’d complain. You’re eating your student president out in her room, and you’re doing it so, so well that it sends shivers through her body, again and again.

“Ngh, f–fuck!” Jimin shouts from above—the things you’d do to see her face right now, to see an effect you’re having on her.

You say nothing, just keep lapping up her folds enthusiastically. Her juice drips into your mouth—sweet.

Jimin starts to grind her hips, as the moans grow louder. She’s getting wetter, and you’re still happily drinking her sugary nectar—drunk with it.

“Ah, ah, y–you’re doing well, my treasurer.”

You give her a thumbs up. You keep licking her cunt as if your life is depending on it. She moans so loud; everyone on this floor is probably going to hear that, but you don’t care anymore. The only thing in your head right now is to please Jimin—only Yoo Jimin.

And you can feel her thighs tense, shaking with pleasure. She’s going to cum. Her moans grow more chaotic and shorter than they were.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck!”

She cums hard, collapsing onto the bed, cunt still on your face, ass up in the air. Her core clenches and clenches on your face, and she just forgets to breathe as her hips convulse.

“No squirt today, huh?” you joke from below.

She snaps back into the situation she’s in, sneering, “Fuck off, don’t fucking play stupid with me, wh–whore.”

You laugh, “Alright, alright, let’s get to the main course, shall we?”

“Y–Yeah.”

Jimin lifts off from you, leaving a string of her lubricant between your lips and her cunt.

“God, that’s hot,” you just can’t help but say it.

She giggles, and you can now see the sweat forming on her forehead; there’s beauty in it.

You two, in a haste, discard all of your clothes until you’re left with nothing—just bare bodies on the bed together. You’re sitting opposite of her, expecting her to say something.

She looks ethereal under the room light. The messy hair, the perfect features, the bare body, they all combine into the epitome of perfection right in front of you. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“Can I suck your tits?” you mutter. Fuck reticence, you need her, now.

She chuckles. “Sure, but only if I’m on top of you.”

“You just have to find a way to dominate me, don’t you?” you huff.

“Don’t say it like you don’t like it, baby.” She caresses your cheeks, and you shiver at her touch.

You lie down, as she slowly eclipses the light above both of you. Her large breasts are hanging down so close to your face. And—

“F–Fuck!”

You latch your mouth on her right breast as if it’s innate, with your hand kneading on the other. She lets out empyrean moans that only makes you want to suck on them even more. God, you can do this all day.

And not wanting to wait anymore, she impales her cunt with your cock, and you can only moan into her tits. This sensation, it’s overwhelming. Her velvety walls are hugging you so, so tightly. It’s so warm. She’s warm.

“Fuck,” she groans, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Your cock is so well-bent, baby. It’s hitting my g-spot so good.”

“T–Thanks, J–Jimin.” Your mind is so damn clouded by the pleasure that you can say nothing but her name right now.

And a crack starts to form when she moves—up and down. Her unshaved cunt dragging along your digit, emanating pleasure all over your body from the core.

“B–Babe, c–can you stop s–sucking my tits?” she pleads.

You pull yourself out of her mounds, as she’s still riding you like there’s no tomorrow, and you let out small moans at each contact. “W–What? Ngh.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

You freeze under her. She’s still motioning herself to squeeze the cum out of you, whimpering each time your cock hits the hilt. Is it a confession? Does she love—

“B–Babe,” she brings you back to the mortal world.

“Y–Yeah, kiss me.”

She invades your mouth as if it wasn’t already hers at the second she sits on your face. Your tongues intertwine in a quest to declare their feelings of their owners.

Your hands are still squeezing her breasts. It’s addictive. You press and press into her flesh just to feel her as much as you can. This might as well be the only body you want to have just to yourself, as you dedicate yours to her. Every curve, every contour, every limb, you want her; you want her to want you; you need her. This kiss, fuck, it’s doing wonders to you.

She’d be the one to break off from the kiss to pant above you, hips still smashing into yours in a perfect rhythm.

“W–Wanna go out with me?” she asks.

She’s desperate, all the Tinder dates, all the–

“Babe, I–I fucking know that it’s desperate, yes or no. Fuck those Tinder dates, fuck those guys and girls, I–I want to go out with you, t–treasurer,” she pants.

Maybe it’s her J’adore that’s permeating all over you. Maybe it’s the way your hips are clashing into each other. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the glint in her eyes.

But if you have to recall, it’d be the confidence she’s radiating in clashing your flesh together just right now.

You nod.

Jimin smiles, pulling you into another kiss. You swear it can tear you apart if you have to let this woman go—figuratively.

She pulls off, her breaths becoming shorter and shorter again. “C–Can you cum with me, baby?”

Again, you nod, smiling. It’s inside your loins, building up, building up. Your body tenses up beneath her, same as hers. It’s there. It’s there.

“Fuck, baby, breed me. I’m yours, just breed me, just–ugh!”

And her whole body freezes, juices flowing onto your crotch. Her face is contorted by the pleasure coursing through her. Again, she forgets to breathe, back arching. You don’t slow down, though. Your orgasm is coming too.

“B–Babe–ah!”

It breaks. You busy yourself inside her to the hilt. Just like her, you forget to breathe. You shoot spurts of your seed deep into her womb, intending to breed her as her wish. Your cock shakes inside her, as she moans at each twitch.

It subsides, eventually. The shots get softer and softer to the point the cum just dribbles off the tip of you now. Fuck, your juices even leak out of her cunt onto your crotch, mixed together.

“F–Fuck,” is all she can say, before collapsing onto you, chest pressed up against yours.

“The plan’s still up?”

“Yeah.”

And she slips to the side, embracing you from behind, as you two doze off in the nocturne.

—

“Can I use your toothbrush?”

A long drag of uncertainty comes from the outside. Sun has risen hours ago, yet you two are still in the drowsy state.

“Or do I have to kiss you again for the answer, Jimin?”

“Put your morning breath away from me!”

At least she’s quick with her riposte.

As you brush your teeth, naked, she saunters into the bathroom, still similarly bare from last night. Her breasts bounce ever so slightly with each step in the mirror. Despite the disheveled appearance, her natural beauty shines through the mess—a seraphic being, one might say.

“Ha, yeah, I know I’m pretty, baby,” she says. “People would kill to have a body like me.”

You finish your clean up, before saying, “You’re insufferable, you know?”

Jimin laughs, before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, emanating mellow all over your face. Fuck, you can feel the blood rushing to your erection now.

“You too, babe.” She smiles, before grabbing her mouthwash for a gargling.

Your cock, again, finds the condition to rise in front of this woman. It’s twitching, and you just have to turn back before she notices it.

Still, her sharp eyes find you, and she gives you a small slap on your bare ass, sending pleasure rushing through your body.

“Hey!” she growls with the mouthwash, before quickly disposing of it. “You’re fucking hard again?”

“I–I–I–uh–”

Jimin then presses herself up against your back, arms ever so tightly trapping you from behind in a hug. It’s warm. She’s warm.

“Let me, baby,” she whispers against your wobbling right ear. “I can’t have my co-workers’ needs go unsated.”

“F–Fucking hell.”

In one careful motion, Jimin slides her arms down to your erection, right hand grabbing the length. “Wouldn’t mind some respect from my baby boy~” Her grip and the languid, careful strokes make your legs wobble.

“Tsk, n–no fucking way, J–Jimin,” you muster any inhibition you have left to deflect.

“Well, then.” Jimin then tightens her hold on your cock, transpiring both pain and pleasure to you. “How about now?”

“Nghhhh, f–fuck,” you cry out, the contorted expression appears in the mirror.

“Just like that, baby, moan for me. Show me who owns you,” Jimin coos, loosening her hold a slight, still keeping the adagio tempo.

“Nnnh, J–Jimin.”

“Good boy, good boy,” she murmurs.

She drags her filthy hand up and down your cock so leisurely, finding the rhythm for your pliancy. She strokes and strokes to build you up to the second release with her, this time by her hand.

It feels like eternity—the way her unhurried digits find the pace that would make you want so much more, or how she whispers ‘good boy’ into your ear every time she wants a whiff of reassurance of control. It’s like she needs one, anyway, judging by how you’re moaning like a bitch right now.

“God, you’re making so much sound for me.” The way she swipes her index finger at the tip of your cock on each stroke, fuck, you can fall onto the floor right here and now. “Wanna see your face in the mirror, baby?”

You turn your head leftwards to find reflections of a contorted face and a grin side by side. Her hand is diligent as ever—building you up to your inevitable release.

“What do you say, baby? Wanna see our faces in the mirror?” she inquires again. You can feel a mischievous smile beside your ear.

“Ngnh, a–alright.”

With ease, she forces your body to turn into your image of the ball of lust—the shower of kisses on your neck; the hand sliding up and down your cock; the thigh pressing up against your ass. You shift and shift within her restraint, and that seems to only fuel her fire.

“Moan some more for me, baby. I wanna hear your voice. I want my men moaning.”

You comply, letting out a series of whimpers just for your student president. The sensation of her hand is so damn enthralling—each slide, each nick of a finger, each twist of her wrist, they are all designed to make you surrender to her.

“Good boy. Your moans are so pleasing to hear, you know that?”

“Nngh, t–thanks, Jimin.”

“Wanna up the ante, baby? I can do it faster~” As if her languid tempo isn’t already doing its job in trapping you inside her overflowing lust.

You hesitate, finding yourself wanting this act to go on to such lengths, maybe even when the sun sets again. Being under her comforting warmth is too satisfying.

“I–I don’t know, Jimin.”

“Oh, this baby can’t decide? Guess I’ll just have to–”

She suddenly lets go of your length, cutting your string of desire so easily. You whine, as Jimin lets out a laugh.

“Don’t!” you say in a rush, and letting go the hand you haven’t realized you’ve been holding—hers.

Jimin giggles. “Say please, baby.” She tightens her hug on you, squeezing the plea out.

Your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“Please, Jimin.”

“Good boy.” And she wraps her hand around your erection again, casually stroking it.

“Ngh.”

The sound of her jerking your shaft fills the room. It’s heavenly—her voluptuous chest pressing up against your arching back with right hand busy sliding on your rod. She does it so cleanly—the technique, the pace. You swear you will cum by the second she whispers another ‘good boy’ into your welcoming ears.

As if she knows your inevitable release, she seeks a higher speed on your cock, stroking it with a swiftness that tries to draw out your moan and your cum as much as she can.

“Ngh, J–Jimin,” you whimper.

“Oh, gonna cum already, baby?” Jimin giggles at your crumble, before giving a peck on your left cheek. “Go on, cum for me. Cum, just like you did last night inside me.”

White spots start to form within your vision. Your breaths become more erratic. It’s there. It’s there.

“Jimin~”

And you explode all over her mirror, painting white streaks on it. You are left with ecstasy on your face as Jimin smiles at your release. Your body shrieks and shudders in her embrace. Your cock twitches in her hand, sending flying ropes of cum everywhere. Fuck.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Her voice is deep—so seductive.

You continue to shake in her hold, not being able to subside from your high so quickly. Your release grows lighter and lighter in her hand, until it comes out in drops, finally letting you catch your breath.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, before forcing your body towards hers. You are spun around, and she gives you a kiss.

It’s short, but it’s powerful—no tongue fighting for dominance, no slurping sounds, just a kiss.

And she pulls back from it once she’s satisfied, judging from the smile on her face.

“Wanna do this again?” she asks.

“Definitely—well—maybe. You know Yizhuo would beat our asses if she catches us again, right?”

“Just shut up, babe. She won’t know if you’re good with secrets like me.”

You pout, bringing out a laugh from her.

Winter

“It’s going well, isn’t it?” Kai asks.

You give him a small smile. “It’s bearable, yeah.”

“Good to know, good to know.” He then takes a sip of his latte from his cup, looking outside.

“Fuck, I forgot to ask you this,” you say. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh yeah! In fact, there’s a woman I've been seeing recently, Yizhuo. You probably know her, right? You guys are working together,” Kai answers.

“Oh,” you utter. “Oh.”

He chuckles, before continuing, “Yeah, I know it’s weird–”

“No, no, not at all, bro,” you deflect with a chuckle along with him. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Kai, still chuckling, inquires, “How about you? It’s gotta be more than ‘bearable’ for you to be all happy like this.”

You give him a smile.

#karina #karina smut #karina x reader #aespa #aespa smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #male reader smut

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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Text

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death.

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society.

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul.

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even.

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach.

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought.

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily.

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit.

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball.

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony.

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone.

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize.

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life.

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future.

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

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strawberrykidneystone · 2 months ago

Text

straight to the point

sevika x female reader

summary: sevika wants a new piercing and wanders (has researched thoroughly before coming) into your shop

a/n: google search how to get another tattoo without disappointing my grandma

tags: piercer!reader, needles, flirting, kinda ooc sevika (?), a little sweet awkwardness

ao3 version

as far as cleanliness standards go in zaun, your shop was heads above the back alley piercers and tattoo shops. for one, you never reused the same needles and you had an autoclave that you used to sanitize the jewelry you offered, as well as the questionable jewelry that your clients brought in.

safe to say that most of your clients were high end criminals who could spare the coin to get the best experience possible in the undercity.

in your tiny corner shop, you were the main piecer and you cycled in various tattoo artists. a lot of them started by tattooing on the streets and developed their own styles, giving them the proper equipment helped them make masterpieces that you’re sure even the prissy piltover citizens would be impressed by. the building itself was pretty small with the shop downstairs and your apartment upstairs. you had a display desk up front with a dinky antique register sitting against the wall that didn’t open half the time. there were two main salon-type chairs in the room facing toward each other, with a small room in the back for more intimate placements of tattoos/piercings. the leather on the chairs were originally a neon pink that faded into more of a peach with patches over scratches on the chairs and ink stains. the walls were covered in graffiti, you invited in local kids to paint around and express themselves; which basically meant that your walls were covered in jinx propaganda right now. you wouldn’t believe the amount of people who came in for new ear piercings and cloud tattoos who also had blue hair.

today was a bit quieter than usual, you had no appointments and your tattoo artist gotten done early today so you were busy going over your books while leaning on the counter on your elbows. the bells of your door jingled and you looked up, locking eyes with the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. she had a very short haircut above her ears, a mechanical arm that had a green… head? attached to it, piercing grey eyes, and a very strong build. swallowing thickly, you smiled warmly at the tall woman, “hey there, how can i help you?”

she trudged up to the counter as though she was unsure if she actually wanted to do this, her eyes glued down into the display case, “i’d uh, like a piercing please.”

you nodded along and tilted your head, trying to follow her eye line as to which piece she was looking at, “well you’re definitely in the right place for that, what are you looking to get?”

she met your eyes again, god it was like looking up at the sky during a storm, a nervous sigh leaving her lips, “what would you get?”

the question startled you a little, people usually come in and know exactly what they want. you hummed and studied her face, wondering what would look good with her proportions.

“hmm well for you, i would get either a medusa piercing or a labret,” you suggested and pointed to the middle of your cupid’s bow and underneath your bottom lip.

she attentively watched your finger like a cat following a laser and subconsciously licked her lips. her eyes lingered on your lips long enough that it brought a blush to your cheeks, how the hell were you going to get through this appointment in one piece? she shook her head and snapped out of it, glancing down at the case once again, “could i see what it would look like?”

“of course,” you nodded and pulled out a case that had an array of studs with different ends, base colors, and backs. she ended up picking out a silver disk stud and you couldn’t help but notice how her ears turned a little red when you praised her, “good choice.”

picking up the middle of the piercing with a clamp, you held it up to her and turned the desk mirror towards her. she softly took the clamp from you, brushing her rough hands against yours, the small touch making your heart flutter like a pair of butterfly wings. she inspected the stud in the mirror and curiously held the silver jewelry above her lips and below. you couldn’t help but watch as the stud passed over her full lips, lips with a dark gloss shining off of them that you’d love to mix with your current lipstick-

fuck stop that, remain professional.

you took a deep breath to refocus and plastered on your least horny smile, “either one calling your name?”

she clicked her tongue and stood back up to her full height, her brows knitted together in concern, “i can’t decide which one to get.”

“you’d look good with either one, plus you can always get one now and the other later,” you mused, kicking yourself to bring your mind back to down to the ground.

she hummed and looked down at you, her eyes trailing from one eye to the other, down to your lips, and back up, making a triangle.

you were so fucked.

“i’ll get the labret sweetheart,” she said definitively and handed the clamp back to you, the pet name rolling off her tongue so naturally it made your knees weak.

you mindlessly nodded and took the clamp from her, sliding over a clipboard with your liability paperwork on it with a sparkly pen.

she raised an eyebrow at the pen, but picked it up anyway, vaguely scanning over the words as she signed and dated her name at the bottom. you quickly busied yourself with sanitizing the stud she picked out in the machine and setting up your station with all the proper tools. you could feel her eyes watching you, a surge of confidence flowing through you at the nickname she called you, so you made an extra effort to swing your hips side to side as you moved around your station, bending down to pick up a plastic bag that you “dropped”. you heard her suck in a sharp inhale, a grin tugging on your lips as you straightened back up. walked back over to the counter, you glanced over the paperwork.

“sevika, that’s a pretty name,” you practically purred out, fluttering your lashes at her.

“yeah? you got a name to go along with your pretty face?” she quipped, a half smirk on her black lips.

“i guess you should know the person who’s about to shove a needle through your face, i’m y/n,” you smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“a lovely name for a lovely lady,” she complimented and raked her eyes across your body.

you giggled shyly and shook your head, tilting your head towards the chair behind you, “c’mon back pretty girl, let’s get you pierced.”

she followed you back to your station and sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. after snapping on a pair of your favorite colored gloves, you prepped the back of the piercing to go into the hollow needle once it was through and grabbed a marker.

standing directly in front of her, practically standing between her thighs, you had to force yourself to look back into those piercing grey eyes.

“i’m going to make a small mark where the piercing will go and then you can check the placement, is it okay if i touch your face?" you asked softly, a shy blush tinting your cheeks.

sevika gulped and quietly nodded, this time averting her eyes from you. you softly pinched her chin between your fingers and turned her head to face you directly. you leaned forward and mapped out her bottom lip to find a true middle and pressed a small dot onto the skin beneath her full lips, feeling her hot breath fan out on the back of your hand. quickly pulling back to stop yourself from kissing her, you practically shoved the hand mirror into her hands and barely squeaked out, “if you want to move it, it’s no problem!”

you took a step back and looked to the side of the room to give her some decision time, trying to ignore how beautiful her lips were and how desperately you wanted to kiss them. she carefully admired the mark in the mirror and hummed, nodding in approval, "looks good to me."

"perfect," you chirped and took the mirror from her, explaining the process of the piercing very briefly as she nodded along, brushing her short hair out of her face when a few strands got stuck to her eyelashes. god, you wish you were the one pushing her hair back.

you cleared your throat and picked up the piercing clamp, turning to her with a smile, "go ahead and open your mouth for me."

she did as you asked and looked up towards the ceiling as you placed the clamp in position over her bottom lip with the dot you made on her skin earlier. you gently positioned your hand holding the clamp vertically and grabbed the hollow needle from your station, lining it up with the dot.

"go ahead and take a deep breath in for me dear," you said calmly, getting into the zone as you focused in on doing the piercing correctly despite the handsome woman in front of you.

she inhaled deeply through her nose and once you were sure that she had taken a deep enough breath, you directed her, "and go ahead and breathe out."

as soon as she started to let the air out of her mouth, you pushed the needle through her skin and pulled the clamp down, holding her bottom lip open towards you.

"good job, worst parts over," you praised, earning an amused huff from sevika.

you let go of the needle and put the back of the piercing into the hole, pulling the needle back through the way it came with the jewelry sticking out in its place. you screwed the top disk onto the piercing and removed the clamp, admiring the slight puffiness of her bottom lip. holding up the mirror to her again, you smiled brightly as a sense of pride flowing through you, ''whatddya think?"

sevika held the mirror up and admired the new piercing from every angle, a satisfied smirk gracing her lips, "i love it."

you giggled and cleaned up your station, disposing of the needle and putting the clamp in the sanitizer machine. sauntering over to one of your cabinets and pulling out a small blue bag, you put together a goody bag with saline solution, aftercare instructions, and piercing floss for later on.

walking back over to her and holding out the bag, you couldn't help the smile on your lips as her fingers brushed against hers, "for it to heal properly, no smoking, drinking, kissing, or uh oral sex for at least 3 weeks."

one of her eyebrow cocked at the last rule before a decisive smile came to her lips. she followed you back up to the counter and paid for the service, leaving a hefty tip.

“so, could i take you on a date in 3 weeks?”

you blinked at her owlishly, processing what she just asked you. quickly regaining your composure, you asked nonchalantly, “is that for a kiss or for oral sex?”

“both if you’re lucky.”

the two of you laughed and you agreed, scribbling your number down on a stray piece of paper. when she held out her hand to take it from you, you held up a finger and folded the paper in half, sealing it with a kiss that left a mark from your lipstick.

she blinked in surprise as you pressed it into her hand with a wink, “a preview for 3 weeks from now.”

sevika chuckled and shook her head, pocketing the paper, “you little minx.”

you giggled and waved as she left, checking out her ass as she walked out of your shop.

this was going to be the longest 3 weeks of your life.

a/n: writing fan fiction is crazy like why am i watching multiple labret piercing videos to describe the process right

part 2

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all

#arcane #arcane season 2 #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #league of lesbians #strawberrykidneystone writes #strawberrykidneystone #arcane season 2 part 2 #sevika x fem! reader

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mr-cha-n · 2 months ago

Text

Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning

Word Count: 18.2k

Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.

Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike.

And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.

But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.

That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.

He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."

Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.

He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.

"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."

She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."

Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.

The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor.

Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.

"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"

They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.

The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect.

And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."

Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.

"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."

Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.

"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."

"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."

You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."

Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.

"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'

But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.

"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"

You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"

Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.

As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."

You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."

There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.

Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."

Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."

You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.

"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."

By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.

He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.

But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.

The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live.

But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.

The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.

Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.

Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.

"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.

Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."

Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"

"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."

Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."

Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"

"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."

"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."

Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."

Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.

He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.

By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.

He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.

With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.

Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.

A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.

It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?

He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'

Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.

When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.

"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.

Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"

You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."

Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.

But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."

Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?

"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"

"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."

Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.

You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.

And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.

“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”

Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.

Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.

One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.

You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."

He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."

You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."

The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.

"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.

You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.

For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.

"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”

You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”

You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.

"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."

Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.

"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."

You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.

When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”

You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."

"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.

It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.

The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.

By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.

Enter: you.

Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."

Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"

"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."

And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.

"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."

You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."

Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.

“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."

Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.

He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”

By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."

The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.

As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.

He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.

When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”

Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.

As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."

He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.

“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”

The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.

And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.

For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.

Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.

One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"

"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.

The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.

Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?

Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.

So, Mingyu brings it up.

Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client.

Except.

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse.

It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?

Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"

You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."

Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."

Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"

“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”

Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”

You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"

Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?

“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”

You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”

He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.

You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”

Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.

“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."

You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”

Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."

You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"

“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.

You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.

He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.

You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.

“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”

Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”

You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.

“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”

His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”

Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”

The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”

The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?

His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.

Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.

You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.

“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”

And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.

The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.

You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.

"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"

His brain practically short-circuits at that.

You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.

The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.

You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”

He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”

“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.

Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.

The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.

You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”

His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.

You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”

Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”

You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”

As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”

His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.

He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.

He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.

“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.

He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.

On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.

So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.

“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.

“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”

“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.

The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.

By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.

“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”

You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”

There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”

And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.

It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.

“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”

Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”

Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.

“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."

“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."

Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil. Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”

Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”

The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.

The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.

Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.

“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”

Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.

Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”

Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”

Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”

Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”

“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”

“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”

Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”

“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”

Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”

“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”

“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”

Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.

So, he knocks.

And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.

“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"

He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”

“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”

You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.

“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.

"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.

You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.

“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.

You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.

You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.

“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”

“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”

You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."

Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”

He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”

As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.

By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.

After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.

He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.

And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.

You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”

Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.

The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.

He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.

“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.

Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”

Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.

“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.

“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”

You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”

“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”

You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”

You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”

He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."

He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.

"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.

You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."

Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into. "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."

For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.

It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.

Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.

You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.

“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”

His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.

“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”

He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.

“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”

Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."

You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”

And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."

For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.

You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.

“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.

“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.

You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”

You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.

“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”

He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”

You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”

The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.

“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.

“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.

The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.

Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.

“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.

He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.

When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.

“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”

“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.

But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”

Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”

He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.

Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.

You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.

He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.

“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."

You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.

“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."

It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.

You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.

And then—he takes a breath.

"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.

Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.

Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.

And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.

Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.

When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.

He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.

"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."

You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.

And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.

You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.

Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.

“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.

"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"

You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.

Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.

He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.

“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."

Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."

"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.

And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.

Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss.

And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.

Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."

This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time.

And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).

He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets.

The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken.

Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.

Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”

Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."

As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut

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authorhjk1 · 6 months ago

Note

In regards to Jihyo's new relationship. Could you write how they met through mutual friend that leads up to them working out together and much more. Gym sex would be great.

(whether using his name or "Y/n" is fine)

My Girlfriend

(Park Jihyo X Male Reader)

The first time you saw her, you thought nothing of it. Yeah, sure. She is a famous singer, an idol. Not just in Korea, but the whole world. A beautiful, talented woman in a whole group of beautiful and talented women. But you never expected all of this to happen.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

You blink. Once. Twice.

And you remember that one day. That one day a month ago. When she greeted you with a simple

"Hi."

Park Jihyo gave you a loving smile, although the two of you just met.

"Jihyo, it's a pleasure to meet you."

You stared at her hand a second too long, but you eventually took it

"(Y/n). The pleasure is mine."

Jihyo chuckled. You didn't expect to be greeted this formally. After all, you were just there to celebrate with the father to be. He is a good friend of yours and, as it turns out, a childhood friend of Jihyo's.

"You know her, right?"

You glanced at your friend, before looking back at her. Jihyo looked stunning. Her hair flew down her naked shoulder, her face was decorated with a smile that played around her lips. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement.

"Of course I do!"

That came out more defensive than you thought it would.

It made both of them laugh.

"Well, I did tell her she is your bias."

He seemed to be enjoying your embarrassment.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You never actually thought you had a chance to meet her. But you dreamed about it more than just once. This wasn't it though. You were supposed to look cool or something. Like, impressive. Maybe wearing a suit, while you walk up to her confidently, asking for her number on the street. Or working out and she would walk in and see you.

Or anything else. But this was just weird. The two of you sitting next to each other at a party in a chicken restaurant. Your friend to your right and his wife opposite from him. Jihyo to your left. And the rest of the chairs were filled with the couple's friends. You knew some. But some were also strangers. Just like Jihyo. Well, not really. You felt like you already knew her.

"And I appreciate that. Thank you very much. It's always great to see a Once."

Jihyo patted your shoulder, while smiling at you. Your embarrassment got replaced by butterflies in your stomach. How can she be so beautiful?

"I-I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

You groaned internally. What was that? That was really lame. But how were you supposed to answer?

"Thank you, you too."

Jihyo kept her smile on as the two of you raised your glasses.

"Cheers."

You were always a little awkward around women, especially when they were as beautiful as Jihyo. But with a little bit of alcohol and some internal speeches about bravery, you actually did manage to keep talking to her for almost the entirety of the night. You were glad the two of you hit it off and it seemed like Jihyo really enjoyed your kind of humor. As the night progressed, you realized that this might actually turn into more than just a spontaneous one on one fan meet.

"Please. Stop. It hurts."

Jihyo kept giggling and laughing, while you told her a joke or a funny story about yourself. For some reason, she was able to tell when you were actually sincere and when you were exaggerating. At one point, she started to hold her stomach, while you were about to get to the climax of your current story.

"Let's have one last toast, before we all go home."

Both of your smiles faded, when you realized that the party was ending. And with that, also your time together.

After the toast, Jihyo stood up and you did the same, trying to be a gentleman, until the very last moment, you helped her with putting on her jacket, before walking her outside.

"I had a great time today."

Jihyo exclaimed, taking a deep breath of the midnight air. It was a little cold, but still comfortable.

"Me too. The party was nice."

"I'm not talking about the party."

"No?"

You pretended to be confused, looking around.

"If you weren't at the party, where is Jihyo then?"

You made her laugh again.

"Jihyo!"

You yelled, not very loud, in the direction of the restaurant you had just stepped out of.

"Stop it!"

Jihyo laughed, slightly embarrassed, because a couple of people were still walking by.

"You can't just start screaming in the middle of the night!"

The two of you exchanged a short giggle as you felt the energy slowly escape the scene. It's that feeling, when you just left a party or an event and you are kinda excited to go home. That kind of feeling. Jihyo seemed to feel it too, since she slightly turned towards a direction, probably where she came from, to signal you that she wanted you to walk with her.

While the two of you walked side by side through the sleeping city, the two of you barely talked. Jihyo didn't need to ask, if you were going to walk her home. She didn't drink that much, but it was still the middle of the night. And you didn't care that you would had to walk home longer than usual. After all, it gave you more time with Jihyo.

Eventually, the two of you did reach her apartment complex. She seemed reluctant to just say goodbye. Instead, she looked to the ground, before turning towards you.

"You haven't told me how the story ends."

"Hm?"

You zoned out for just a moment. The slight buzz, this gorgeous woman and the night air made you feel like you were walking on clouds.

"The story, remember? Just before we walked home. I really want to hear the end."

It took you a moment. You were just about to tell her right then and there, when you suddenly realize what she was hinting at. Her eyes, big and dark, were looking up at you as if she was asking you for something. To read between the lines.

"Well, the story is quite long. And it's too late to tell you the rest of it now."

You paused for just a second, trying to figure out, if you read her words correctly. But Jihyo only showed you her usual friendly smile.

"Why don't you... Well, why don't you give me your number and we figure something out?"

You spoke a little faster than you wanted to. Jihyo definitely caught onto your nervousness.

"Sure. Why don't we do that?"

Her smile now seemed to tease you a little.

"Great. Just let me get-"

"But maybe you should give me your number. Because of my schedule and stuff."

You nodded hesitantly. Were you reading her wrong? Is that her strategy for people who aren't idols and ask for her number? So she doesn't get bombarded with texts and calls?

"I'm not playing you."

She seemed to have looked through you once more.

"I really did enjoy the party."

Once again, her eyes were telling you that it was in fact, once again, not about the party.

"Alright, then."

You took the phone out of her hand and started to put your number in.

"I'm just letting you know right now, that I'm a very busy man. I barely have time at all. Only during the night. So if you want to hang out then..."

You gave her her phone back with a cheeky grin as you hear her laugh.

"Yeah, sure. Me too. I'm usually available between 11 pm and 2 am."

The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a moment, until Jihyo cleared her throat. Or maybe you were just staring.

"Anyways, I better get home now. Busy schedule tomorrow."

"Yeah, same same. Ton of work to do."

Your exaggerated tone made her shake her head.

"Good night. I will text you soon."

"Sleep tight."

You planned on just waiting for her to enter the building. But instead of leaving, Jihyo suddenly stepped towards you. Before you could react, she was already standing on her tiptoes, giving your right cheek a kiss. Her soft lips seemed to heat up your whole body.

This was the fourth time within the last three weeks that you entered Jihyo's apartment complex, not counting the night you had met. The two of you met up a couple of times by now. Your first date included a cup of coffee and a walk around the park near her company. For the second one, you took Jihyo out to dinner and you were surprised by how good she looked in a long, black backless dress. She ordered ice cream for desert. But while she ate, she was complaining about how she would have to work out more, if she ate so many calories. And that's how the two of you talked about your workouts a little. One thing let to another and here you were. You're not just dating Park Jihyo, you were now also her newly appointed gym buddy.

"You started with out me?"

You walked over to her as you saw Jihyo sitting on the floor in a corner of the studio, trying to catch her breath.

"Just a little. You are late."

You quickly checked your watch.

"I'm not. You're early."

You finally reached her, towering over her.

"Guilty."

She gave you a cheeky smile, wiggling her eyebrows. You leaned down, softly raising her chin with a finger. Closing your eyes, you felt your lips meet. Her warm breath mixed with yours, her scent lingering in the air around you.

Not your first kiss. Not your first kiss with Jihyo. And yet the best you've had so far. Not just with her. But because of her.

A couple of moments later, you helped her off the ground, without missing the opportunity to admire her body.

"Got you something."

Jihyo reached for her bag and you watched as she took something out of it.

"Here. Thought it might help."

"This is a towel."

You said in disbelief. Not because you didn't appreciate it. But because this was completely unexpected.

"Yeah, I know. I bought it for you."

A grin played around her lips, probably because of your dumb look.

"Don't play with me. I saw your commercial two days ago. I'm sure they threw these after you when you went home."

Jihyo rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

"It doesn't work like that, you know? They don't just give me anything, just because I model for them."

For some reason, you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you are dating a famous person. A singer, a dancer, a model and much more. You never expected to hear these kind of words from you girlfriend. Sorry, gym buddy.

"Plus, you should check out the back, before you judge me."

Jihyo suddenly gave you a cute pout, before walking away, leaving you standing.

You turned the towel around and there it was. Your name. She actually had put a lot of thought into this. You had told her, that your towel got stolen while you worked out before.

"Jihyo!"

You chased after her.

Throughout the next two hours, people came and went, while you and Jihyo focused on working out. You were able to resolve the towel debate quickly, knowing that Jihyo doesn't like to stay mad for long.

Eventually, you found yourself lying on a bench, after just having worked on your arms. Jihyo walked over to you, handing you your new towel.

"Thanks."

You mumbled, still breathing heavily as you wiped your face.

"We should work out this later more often."

You looked up at her words, scanning the gym. She was right. Except for you and Jihyo, there was no one here anymore.

"Yeah, it's nice to be alone with you."

Your eyes shot back up at her. Jihyo's eyebrow was raised, a cocky grin on her face.

"I mean, it's nice to work out with you alone, you know? No one disturbing us..."

"Mhm."

Jihyo chuckled, before turning around. She stepped towards a bench nearby. Placing one knee and one hand on it, she grabbed a dumbbell and resumed her workout.

After what had happened, you couldn't help but look at her for a couple of moments longer. And you soon realized that Jihyo was in a quite interesting position. Despite her loose sweat pants, you had quite the view.

There had been more than just a couple of times you thought you had been caught, when you looked at her chest maybe a little too long. The two of you hadn't been intimate with each other, except for kissing. And none of you brought it up so far, but there was definitely tension there. So this almost felt like an invitation, but also like a coincidence at the same time. Jihyo could've faced the other way. She must have known that you could see her butt through her pants. Or maybe she did this on purpose, because otherwise, you would've been able to look directly into her cleavage? But then again, she would have been able to see that. So...

You were over thinking again. This tends to happen, whenever you are with Jihyo. You don't want to mess this up.

"You can touch me, if you want."

Your hart dropped mid beat.

"Huh?"

You were now very aware that the gym's walls are covered with mirrors. Fuck.

Through one of those, Jihyo was looking directly at you. A, what seemed to be naughty smile, played around her lips.

"Don't just stare. Touch."

"Well, I don't want to- I mean, I did-didn't mean to-"

Jihyo rolled her eyes.

"Your part time innocence can be very charming. But right now, I don't want you to be innocent."

Now, she looked at you over her shoulder.

"I want you to touch me."

You quickly looked around, making sure that no one was there. Reaching forward, you felt the soft fabric of her pants and the firmness of her ass. You saw Jihyo biting her lip as you placed your other hand on her cheeks as well.

"That's it."

She sighed, stopping mid work out to enjoy your groping of her butt.

Now that you felt the ass cheeks of one of the most beautiful women on earth in your hands, you decided to push your luck a little. After all, she had told you to not be this innocent.

"The cameras don't do you justice. Usually, your front is the focus."

You saw Jihyo smirk in the mirror. She knee what you are trying to hint at.

"Go on then."

Jihyo turned around and your hands fell off her ass. But the disappointment only lasted for a second, when Jihyo straddled the bench, now fully turned towards you.

"Touch me."

You reached for her chest this time, feeling the fabric of the pink sports bra, before you squeezed her boobs.

"Right there."

Jihyo let out a moan as her head dropped back.

You enjoyed yourself for a while, squeezing and kneading her tits. Eventually you leaned forward and kissed her shoulders. Then, you moved downwards, while you let your thumbs graze over her clothed nipples.

"Oh, god."

Another moan escaped her lips.

Just when you were about to place your lips on the top of her tits for the first time, Jihyo leaned back a little.

"Not so fast."

She reached forward herself, this time. You felt her hand palming your cock over your shorts.

"Ladies first."

You gladly left her tits this time, while Jihyo glid off the bench she was sitting on. Now on her knees, she quickly pulled off your pants. A smile played around her lips as she leaned down to give your clothed cock a kiss.

Your pants and underwear were quickly taken care of and Jihyo was greeted with your cock.

"Nice."

She murmured, before kissing it again.

You couldn't believe that she was actually doing this. Right here. In a public gym. You were getting a blowjob in a public gym. By Park Jihyo. It was still unreal to you, even when she wrapped her lips around your dick.

"Jihyo, I-"

"Shh!"

She let your cock fall out of her mouth and looked up at you.

"Just relax, baby."

You took a shakey breath and watched her resume her work. Her lips glid along the length of your shaft. One hand held your base, while the other stroked your thigh in a soothing motion.

Jihyo was going slow as she lovingly took care of your cock. Her eyes were closed by now, enjoying your dick as she sucked you off.

You sat on the bench, your toes curling. You needed some kind of outlet for your pleasure. You didn't know where to put your hands. Behind you? Or...

You reached forward, placing both of them on Jihyo's head. She moaned around your cock, sending small vibrations through your entire body.

"God."

You sighed as your head rolled back. Jihyo's lips reached her fingers around your base, whenever she moved down. It made your tip graze her throat. Her muscles squeezed your cock.

Eventually, Jihyo let your dick fall out of her mouth.

"I need you."

She quickly straddled your lap, your cock resting against her tummy. As she looked down, she bit her lip, seeing how deep you could go.

"Take these off me."

Jihyo motioned towards her pants and you quickly pulled off her waistband.

"Wait."

You stopped midway, looking up at her.

"Do you have protection?"

Jihyo slowly shook her head, a disappointed look on her face.

Your hands were still on her waist. And you could tell you're only a small tug of her pants away from seeing her pussy.

"But I have some upstairs."

Once she remembered that she had some in her room, her face lit up.

"Hurry."

You lied in Jihyo's bed, catching your breath. She lied next to you, her finger drawing circles on your naked chest. It was quite for a while, except for your breathing. You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

"Wow."

Jihyo laughed, lifting her head off your shoulder.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know."

You shruged your shoulders.

"I didn't think it would be... You know? This good."

"Is that a compliment?"

A teasing smile greeted you as Jihyo looked up at you.

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder again.

"I liked the workout too."

"Oh, totally. The workout."

You pretended to be oblivious to her raised eyebrow.

"But I liked what happened afterwards way more."

Jihyo scoffed with a smile on her face.

You felt her tits press against your side as she snuggled closer.

"This is great cardio, you know? Maybe we could cut the workouts short from now on."

"Doe's this mean we will do this again?"

You were surprised at Jihyo's suspicious tone. Didn't she trust you?

"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, I guess you just experienced what every fan could wish for. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see you again."

"That hurts. Why would you think I would just leave?"

"You won't?"

Jihyo looked up at you again.

"Of course not."

You shook your head.

"I've always liked you. Even before I met you in person. Why would I leave you now?"

"Fine."

You were surprised at how quickly you had just convinced her.

The two of you lied for a while in silence, before you heard Jihyo speak again.

"There is just one more thing."

You watched her as she pointed at her alarm clock on her nightstand.

"Judging by how late it is, you won't be going home tonight."

You were planning on going home, actually. But it seemed like that was not gonna happen now. You didn't expect to be this close to her already. Yes, you just had sex. But sleeping in the same bed? You didn't know each other's sleeping habits and-

"And if you leave my room tomorrow, you will meet at least some of the girls."

You gulped after her words just interrupted your thoughts. Right. The rest of Twice. You could already feel your nervousness rise, just thinking about them. The fact that you were lying with Jihyo in bed, naked, was already a miracle.

"So..."

You heared her hesitate. Her eyes locked on the door as if she was too shy to look at you.

"Should I introduce you as my boyfriend?"

You were stunned. Despite dating Jihyo, you never thought you would get this far with her. Was she really asking you to be her boyfriend? You? The ordinary guy, whom she had met by chance? You are not an idol. You're not rich. You had always thought that this wasn't that serious for Jihyo. You expected every idol to be with a rich guy or at least another idol.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes, then?"

"Oh, god. Keep going."

Jihyo moans into your neck as you sit on the bench you were just working out on, Jihyo in your lap. The hole in her leggings is the product of her earlier advances, which you silenced with a forceful rip of her clothing. It now enables you to hold onto her firm butt, which seems to look and feel even better in her tight leggings, while you lift Jihyo up and down as if you are still working out.

The last couple of weeks, since that first time, have been like this. The two of you meet up to work out together up to six days a week. All of these sessions end with the two of you, going to town on some of the gym's equipment.

But it's not like that's the only thing the two of you do. You spend quality time together, going on dates, hanging out at your place and sometimes even at hers.

You feel Jihyo's hands glide over your biceps as she feels your cock deep inside of her. The both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered with a slim layer of sweat.

You kiss Jihyo, just in case someone comes in, to stop her from moaning too loud. As you keep squeezing her cheeks through her leggings, she bites your lip, making you groan into her mouth.

"Your cock is so deep inside me."

Jihyo whispers against your lips, after the two of you break away for air. The recent workout and this little session are tests for both of your lungs. Her heavy breathing matches yours as the two of you lock eyes.

"Jihyo..."

You want to tell her that you're close already. That you don't have much more inside of you. You're close to your climax and your arms are slowly giving up too. It's a mix of pain and pleasure.

"No! Not yet! I need more, baby."

Another kiss leaves the both of you with even less air. But you can feel yourself getting slower.

"Don't cum yet."

Another kiss. Slower.

Eventually, Jihyo signals you to stop. Your arms burn like fire. Not because she is heavy, but because of your prior workout. You barely manage to lift her off your lap.

"I think we need to give you a little break."

With a knowing smile, Jihyo looks at you while leading you towards the leg press.

The two of you must have defiled every single equipment in this gym by now. And the leg press is no exception. Some of your after workout sessions actually start right there. When Jihyo stands above you, making sure you don't drop your weight. And you have the best view of her nice firm butt, hugged by leggings, which are almost too tight for her.

You lie down, just like you usually do. Jihyo stands above you. But instead of watching your weight, she lowers herself, until she sits on your face. At the same time, you dart your tongue out and taste her pussy. You groan at the familiar taste, sending a shiver up her spine.

"That's a good boy."

Jihyo sighs as she feels your tongue roam her pussy, while your hands hold onto her juicy thighs.

Both of your bodies are marked by your countless hours in the gym. You take health and working out equally seriously. Jihyo's thighs and ass are just a couple of benefits that result from that. And she loves to feel your biceps, or your abs, when you pull her back against your stomach and she feels your hard muscles on her back.

Now, Jihyo moans and sighs on top of you as you eat her out. You know that Jihyo only cums two ways. When you lick every spot in her pussy, or when you fuck her hard and rub her clit at the same time. And your tongue in her pussy aims to finish her by using the first option.

No spot stays untouched as you lap up any of her juices that dribble out of her. As you let your tongue glide along her folds. As you bury it inside of her. It all has only one purpose. And soon, you are witness to the result.

"Oh, god! Baby!"

You feel Jihyo's legs shake around you, your hands still holding onto them. She lowers herself even further, unable to lift her own weight now. Your nose slightly grazes her clit, your tongue invades her pussy as deep as it can. And then, you push Jihyo over the edge.

"Yes! Right there, make me cum!"

Her juices flood your open mouth as your girlfriend orgasms on top of you. Her thighs threaten to squeeze you to death as you try to pull them apart. Her load moans echo through the gym.

A couple of moments later, you've moved on already. Jihyo is now lying on a bench, her legs draped over the barbell above her head. Your short break enables you to fuck her hard and fast, while her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her ripped leggings give you another beautiful view of her beautiful pussy, taking your cock beautifully.

"Baby, baby, baby!"

Jihyo half cries half sings as you make the bench rock back and forth to the rhythm of your thrusts.

You put your white towel underneath her. The one with your name on it. You don't want to make a mess like two weeks ago. You almost had to buy a new leather cover for the bench.

"Oh, god!"

Jihyo's back arches off the bench. She pushes her chest towards you in the process. If she didn't have her top on, you would be all over her. But right now, you are completely fine with just fucking her tight pussy.

You want to feel them though, you realize, as Jihyo keeps arching her back. One of your hands moves towards her chest. Another loud moan escapes her beautiful lips as she feels you, groping her tits through the fabric.

Your other hand reaches between her legs, just above the hole in her leggings. Your thumb brushes over her clit underneath the fabric.

"Right there!"

Jihyo immediately reaches another plateau of pleasure.

"Keep going! Don't stop!"

Her whines make you go faster. Your hips crashing into hers as you bottom out inside of her with every thrust.

Your thumb on her clit and your hand on her tits add to the pleasure your cock is giving her. Your girlfriend eventually succumbs to the overwhelming sensation.

Jihyo can feel her orgasm slowly approaching.

"Oh, baby! Yes! Almost there!"

You keep fucking her as she closes in on her climax. Your thumb on her clit keeps rubbing her. Jihyo's legs seem to push against the barbell as she orgasms.

"Oh, god."

You can't help, but let out a groan yourself as you feel Jihyo's tight pussy squeezing your cock. Her juices start to spill out of her. They cover your cock, your lower body. But most of it lands on your towel underneath her. You watch how the white fabric around your name becomes soaking wet.

The sight of your girlfriend, climaxing around your cock, drives you towards your own orgasm as well.

"Jihyo, I'm gonna-"

"Cum in my mouth, baby. I wanna taste your cum."

It takes a moment to get her legs off the barbell and the rest of her body off the bench underneath it. But eventually, Jihyo does kneel in front of you.

She pulls off your condom as she looks up at you.

"Cum for me, baby."

Her big eyes, pleading for your cum, don't give you much of a choice. As soon as Jihyo sticks her tongue out, it only takes her a couple of strokes, until she makes you climax.

You groan as you watch how your cum hits her tongue and the inside of her mouth. Jihyo takes it all, until your knees are weak and you are completely spend. Using her tongue, she pushes your cum around in her mouth a couple of times, before she swallows.

You watch as her body moves to the rhythm of the song. For a moment, your view is blocked by Sana, but you can soon see Jihyo again.

It's an honor to be able to watch Twice's dance practice live. You just came here to pick up your girlfriend, so you two could have your scheduled date. But you didn't expect traffic to be this good, so you got here early.

You lean your head against the wall behind you as you feel your cock slightly harden. Jihyo's body roll reminds you of how she rides you in bed. The way her hips sway, when she turns around, the way she throws her hair back while dancing. Her smile, her wink towards the mirror, her hand that glides down her body, tracing her curves. All of these things make you shift around on the sofa in the corner of Twice's practice room.

You almost forget the other members. The song moves into the background. For a brief moment, you consider sneaking out and finding a quiet place to let go of your now build up tension. Maybe the men's room...

The music comes to a hold in that very moment.

You let out a deep breath as you see the girls turn towards the mic case that's next to you. You're suddenly very aware that you're still hard. They were practicing for an upcoming performance, so Jihyo's outfit makes matters even worse.

"Stop staring at her."

Sana giggles as she catches you.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment. The other members grin and giggle as well. Jihyo can't hide a smile.

"Stop teasing him, Sana."

"What?"

The Japanese girl plays innocent.

"He can stare as much as he wants."

To your surprise, Jihyo gracefully takes her seat on your lap.

She usually isn't that fond of skin ship in front of her members. Partially because Sana is unbearable, once she finds a reason to make fun of Jihyo.

"I bet he does."

Sana wiggles her eyebrows, while the other members pack their things.

You involuntarily clear your throat as Jihyo shifts around a little. Her firm cheeks rub against your erection. There is no doubt she must have felt it already.

"As long as you don't make too much noise again tonight..."

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you and Jihyo hear Tzuyu's whisper.

"Yah!"

Jihyo is now embarrassed as well.

Eventually, you and Jihyo are the only ones in the room. The other girls already left. But not without teasing the two of you. If you heard it correctly, Nayeon even offered Tzuyu a pair of earbuds.

"Let's skip the date."

"What? Why?"

Jihyo is still sitting in your lap, your arms around her waist.

"I'm not that hungry yet. I think I'll have to work out a little more."

Her teasing smile makes you smile as well. Until you remember.

"I already reserved a table."

Your girlfriend shrugs her shoulders.

"So?"

"I love this side of you."

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let's get out of here."

The two of you decided on your place. Especially after all the teasing. But you never made it past your living room.

"Do they feel good?"

Jihyo looks up at you, waiting for an answer.

Your cock is buried inside her cleavage as you sit on your couch, while Jihyo kneels in front of you.

"God, Jihyo."

Why does she even have to ask?

Your girlfriend uses her hands to press her tits together, while she moves up and down. Her soft skin makes your head fall onto the backrest. You see stars, when Jihyo darts her tongue out to lick your tip.

"Wait, don't-"

You're interrupted by another lick.

Your shakey breath makes Jihyo chuckle. You're somewhat embarrassed that she doesn't need to do much for you to orgasm quickly. But she already told you, it's actually a compliment. And, even if you're about to cum early, you can always take a short break and focus on her pleasure.

To be honest, though. Who could blame you? No one would last long with Jihyo.

"Get up here."

A smile plays around her lips as she rises from your carpet and quickly gets onto your lap once again. You feel her ass cheeks rub against your cock, which doesn't help your current state.

Trying to focus on something else, you lean down and take one of her nipples into your mouth.

"Baby..."

Jihyo sighs as she holds your head with one hand, while the other rests on your shoulder. As you keep sucking on both of her tits, she eventually starts grinding against your thigh. Her naked body on top of yours searches for as much pleasure as it can get. You feel her slight wetness on your thigh.

"Keep going..."

Another sigh and you switch sides once more. You hold both of them in your hands, kneading them occasionally.

Jihyo shamelessly pleasures herself with your thigh, while you kiss and lick her tits. Her pussy becomes wetter, the longer she keeps grinding against you.

"Baby, I need you in me. Now."

Your hands move to her waist, giving her a silent approval. Slowly pulling Jihyo off of you, you lie her on the couch.

"Turn around."

Jihyo does as you tell her. She is now lying on her stomach, while you kneel behind her.

You quickly put on the condom, before slowly sliding into her warmth. The both of you moan at the same time as you penetrate her pussy. You ease yourself into Jihyo further.

"Fuck me good."

Your hands grab each a handful of her ass cheeks.

"Trust me. I will."

You give Jihyo one powerful thrust, while holding onto her ass.

Your girlfriend's head sinks into the sofa.

You hear a muffled moan as you start to fuck her properly. As you drive yourself as deep as possible, you notice how deep you can actually go in this position. Your sofa absorbs moan after moan as Jihyo shakes underneath you.

You are unable to play with her clit in this position. Lucky for her though, your thrusts are powerful enough for her to rock back and forth on the couch. The hard fabric does your job for you.

Looking past Jihyo's ass, you notice how the light material underneath her is turning darker.

"Damn, forgot the blanket."

You only hear another moan as response. Her heavy breathing against the sofa echoes through the room. Alongside the clapping of her cheeks against your hips. While holding onto them with both hands, you marvel at how beautiful they are.

You completely forget the blanket as you knead them a little. Who can blame you? In your opinion, everyone doesn't appreciate her ass enough. Jihyo always gets attention for her chest. Rightfully so, no doubts there. But if they could only see what you see right now...

You haven't tried it before, but you suddenly have the urge. Without thinking, you raise a hand and let it drop onto her right cheek. A particularly loud moan encourages you to strike her other cheek. Alternating between both of them, you soon turn Jihyo's skin a light a shade of red.

A couple of moments later, she trembles underneath you. Harder than before. Her hips slightly raise off the sofa, she raises her head to moan your name. And she drenches your sofa in even more of her juices.

Jihyo orgasms while calling out for you. You keep a tight grip on her cheeks as you fuck her through it. When she starts to talk again, it's hard for you to make out what she is trying to say.

"P-Please...."

Another thrust makes her head rock back and forth, like one of those dolls.

"C-Cum..."

Is she asking for another orgasm? Jihyo usually isn't that greedy.

"Back... C-Cum..."

You have to admit that it takes you a while to understand her. To be fair, you're not in the best state of mind yourself, right now.

"C-Cum...on.....my...."

Another particularly deep thrust makes Jihyo shreek, her head dropping onto the couch again.

You hope you heard her correctly, because you don't have time to ask her to repeat it. The wonderful sight of her ass and her tight pussy, its walls stretching around your cock, make it hard to keep back your own orgasm for long.

Trying to hold on longer, you start counting your thrusts. You don't reach ten.

As Jihyo's walls tighten around you further, as you drive yourself as deep into her as you can, as you knead her cheeks, you finally have to pull out.

Throwing your condom behind you just in time, you barely get to aim your cock properly. As you do orgasm, your cum shoots all over Jihyo's back. Her back muscles, which you can see, due to her many workouts. You paint them with your cum.

Both of you catch your breaths as you lean against the backrest, while Jihyo still lies in place.

"That was...."

You can tell that she is looking for the right word, but has trouble finding it.

"Amazing."

You end the sentence for her. Jihyo chuckles at your lack of creativity.

"About that reservation you mentioned earlier..."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Now you're hungry?"

"You aren't?"

Jihyo looks back at you.

"Let me order something."

"Where were you going to take me anyways?"

"Chinese."

"Order that then. I'm gonna take a shower. After practice and this"

Your girlfriend nods towards her cum stained back.

"I really do need a shower."

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #male reader #kpop gg #twice jihyo #twice smut #park jihyo #jihyo smut #jihyo

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byunpum · 1 year ago

Text

Safe heaven

Pair: Neteyam x Human!reader (sully family, others na'vi)

Warning: Neytiri being a bit(a lot) controlling, forced pairing, cozy moments, comfort moments, All characters are adults.

Note: I had this draft half done, and decided to finish it today. Let's see what you think, I left it open ended. If it's received good feedback I'll continue…it's a short story. But how did you find it so far?

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Ko-fi

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4[final]

Returning to the Omaticaya clan, where Neytiri was born, grew up and raised her children, was the best thing she could have done. After the confrontation with the RDA, things seemed to calm down. After a year of living in the Metkayina clan, the Sullys returned to their clan in the jungle. They were accepted immediately and things seemed to be running smoothly. But lately something was making neytiri anxious, and it was the future of her children. Tuk and kiri were still very young, they were just starting to live, lo'ak was still in training, he was not far away from becoming a man. But neteyam was already a man, he was at the perfect age to find a mate and make a family of his own. And neytiri was going to handle this. She wanted neteyam to make a good choice, neteyam was next in line to be Olo'eyktan. As the son of toruk makto, that was a position he had to take, and he had to have a good partner by his side. The mate neteyam chose also chose the position he wanted to belong to, and neytiri wanted him to have the best place in this clan.

Neytiri was given the task of introducing them to the best women in the clan, and with the best references. Many girls were after neteyam and she knew it…she had heard how the girls talked about how amazing and handsome her son was, but neytiri had to find the girl she found perfect. But whenever she introduced a new girl to neteyam he would just say hello…talk to her for a few minutes and that was it. He showed no interest in them, it was as if another ordinary clan member was talking to him. But this did not stop neytiri, that was until she met Lekka. She was a majestic na'vi, she was very beautiful. Not to mention how skilled she was at hunting, a true warrior. Neytiri thought that this girl would be the perfect match for her eldest son, besides the girl had told him that she was very attracted to neteyam and that she was interested in him. So neytiri took this sign as a good opportunity to introduce them both to each other.

Today was a hunting party, neteyam with the Na'vi hunting party had a good day. The hunt had been a success, and they were having a small celebration in the clan, just outside the hallelujah caves. A nice hidden place and perfect for carrying on the omaticaya traditions. The whole clan was there, including some humans. Of course, the Omaticaya clan already had to coexist with the good humans, who had helped them fight this battle between species. The laughter, the dancing filled the atmosphere with peacefulness…neteyam was with his group of friends, moving away for a moment to get a drink. It wasn't until he bumped into his mother. -"Neteyam I glad you're here," said neytiri, next to her was this girl, lekka. Neteyam had to admit she was very pretty. But… he wasn't impressed. -"Hi mom…" neteyam speaks nervously, he already knew where his mother was coming from. It wasn't the first time she introduced him to a na'vi girl. Neytiri laughs a little, taking the girl's arm to bring her closer to Neteyam. - "May I introduce you to lekka, she is the daughter of telup" speaks neytiri. Neteyam makes the 'I see you' sign waving to the girl.

Neteyam could see how nervous the woman was, she was shaking a little bit. And she was looking down, he felt a little sorry for these girls. Her mother always put them in this embarrassing situation. -"Nice to meet you… it's a pleasure. My name is neteyam" neteyam speaks. -"Yes… I've heard a lot about you," says Lekka with a trembling voice. Neytiri apologizes to the couple of guys, telling them that she was going to go get more food, but it was a pretend to leave them alone. According to her everything was going as she had planned. Neytiri proudly approaches the group that was waiting for her and watching from afar. Mo'at, Tsu'tey, Jake were looking at her walking towards them, with a big smile on her face. Neytiri approaches and sits down next to Jake. -"And what do you do now?" asks Mo'at, the woman didn't have to look at her daughter to know that she had done something. -"Me? nothing…the essentials," says neytiri, she is proud of her work, she has just introduced an amazing girl to her son.

"You know that's not going to work, right?" says mo'at. Listening as neytiri chokes a little on her drink. "Mother what are you talking about, of course I do" says neytiri, looking to jake for support. But he just shifts his gaze, trying not to be included in the conversation. On the other hand tsu'tey looks curiously at the two women. "You're trying to get neteyam together with that girl…you can tell he doesn't like her. Besides…this trying to get together never works, look at you," says mo'at. Now it was jake's turn to choke, but from laughter. He knew mo'at was referring to how he and neytiri met. Meanwhile tsu'tey made a groan of annoyance and leaned back on the log behind him. - "I witnessed that, and I agree with mo'at" complains tsu'tey watching as jake continues to laugh.

"Hey…but this is different. Neteyam is different, I know what I'm doing" says neytiri, sitting up more in her seat. She was getting upset, no one in her family understood her. But she wanted neteyam to make the right choice and take her rightful place again. "Love…I know why you're doing this, but it's not necessary. Neteyam will eventually find a girl he likes, you should leave him alone" jake says, but he can see how neytiri is looking at him with a pout. Grimacing for him to keep quiet, jake just laughs a little and keeps drinking. he knew neytiri was stubborn and didn't care what anyone else thought, she was going to do it. Jake watches as neteyam is talking to the girl. You could see how uncomfortable he was, fidgeting a little. His tail was curled up at his heels and he glanced at the group of friends from time to time. - "He looks very nervous," says tsu'tey, he was also looking at the boy. - "Why is he…neytiri" speaks mo'at, looking at his daughter. Neytiri rolls her eyes, and now looks at her son. She clearly noticed how uncomfortable the boy was, but she supposed it was normal. He had never talked to that girl before, he might be nervous because of how cute she was. -"They look good together," says Neytiri. - "Yes they look good…but he doesn't look good" jake grimaces, the interaction his oldest son was now having with that girl was horrible.

"Mo'at?" y/n taps the woman's shoulder, getting her attention. - "Oh, what's wrong?" says mo'at, turning to look at you. All the group's attention was now on you. -"I'm going to go rest, I've finished doing the chores you told me to do," you say, laughing a little.

You had been one of the human children born here in Pandora, just like Spider. And it was normal for you to have interacted with the na'vi from an early age… but while spider preferred to be playing with the sully children, you preferred to go look for fun elsewhere. And that's where you met mo'at, the woman noticed how every day you would go to her hut and watch her in awe as she worked. Or when she was doing her daily chores, you always followed her. She never complained about you, you were quiet and calm, so your presence pleased her. One day mo'at invited you to approach her, and that's when you started asking questions. Which surprised mo'at, you were a very intelligent child, for such a young age. Something told mo'at that she had to help you, and accept you. So she dedicated herself to become your guardian…she would teach you, take care of you and make you join the clan. She would never be your mother, but she would care for you like one.

"Oh thanks, I'll look at the results later" says mo'at, stroking your hand a little. -"Hey, why don't you stay a bit to celebrate… kiri is over there," says jake, waiting for you to accept. You had grown up with his children, you were practically a daughter to him. For some reason, neytiri had no problem with you when you were around his children, she thought you were good. But only that. -"mmm no thanks, I want to go rest" you apologize, and say goodbye to everyone. Starting your way to the lab. -" She has helped you a lot, hasn't she?" speaks tsu'tey, looking at mo'at. The woman was still looking at you from afar, with a proud look. - "You know…she has a great future. She's smart and a quick learner," mo'at says. -And not only in the medical field…in technology she is amazing, you have to see how she helps norm, she is very smart" says jake. Everyone is silent for a moment. -"Besides…she's a very sweet girl, she's good" says mo'at while he continues eating. Neytiri doesn't say anything, she just listens curiously and then turns all her attention to her son neteyam. When she looked, she saw that the boy was no longer there. Instead there was a lekka alone, waiting for the boy to return. Neytiri stood up quickly, approaching the girl. "Where is neteyam?" asked Neytiri, looking around to see if she could find her son. -"I don't know…he said he was going to look for something, and he hasn't come back," says Lekka. Neytiri was going crazy, she didn't know what she was going to do with that boy.

After talking to mo'at, you decided to go to your favorite place. You knew you had told mo'at you were going to rest, but you didn't dare tell her where you were really going to go or do. Walking secretly, as you went deeper into the jungle, you thanked Pandora's nature for being so bright. It was a spectacle for your eyes, walking faster to get to your secret place. Not far away, about 20 minutes walk, there was a crashed plane. You were sure that it was from the first war that the RDA had with the clan, because it was very deteriorated, and the first time you had found it you had to clean some skeletons that were still inside. After a while this had become your secret place. You reached the entrance of the plane, opening it carefully… pushing open a door you had made out of metal. Entering and pointing at it as you closed the door. Approaching a machine you had created not long ago, stretching the rope so that it would turn on and start doing its job, oxygenating the area. This machine allowed the air around it to be clean and safe for you to breathe, at least 10 feet away. The plane had some closed areas, so that the good oxygen didn't get out, but still the pandora's air came in. But still, it was safe for you.

This was the best thing you did…invent. As Norm used to say, you were a little box of surprises, always inventing things and improving others. Since you were little you had been like that, your head was full of ideas and this hideout was the representation of that. Although it didn't have the best structure and your goal was to sign it completely, you were still working on it. Taking off your oxygen mask, placing it on the wall. To start getting more comfortable, he had to be here before long. Or so you thought, looking out the broken window a little. Not getting too close, without leaving your safe zone. You see that no one is around. You sit down near a small table you had down at night, starting to work on the new oxygen mask prototype you were making. You were so busy, you didn't hear the first knocking on the front door. Knock, knock, knock… the knocking got louder and you panicked. Keeping silent, and turning off the lights you had on.

Carefully approaching the door, to see who it was. -"Hey…baby it's me" you hear his voice, and smile a little relieved that it was him. You turn on all the lights and open the door quickly, meeting the boy. Neteyam was at the entrance, looking around, making sure no one was watching him. -"Hey get in quick…the air is getting thinner," you say, taking his hand and pushing him into the plane. Neteyam laughs as he enters carefully, lowering his head as he passes through the door. As soon as he enters, he can feel you wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him in a soft kiss. Giggling against your lips, as he holds you around the waist. Sitting carelessly on the floor. - "Y/N…love" neteyam was laughing, as you pull away caressing his face. Arranging his hair, looking at him carefully, studying his mood. He looked somewhat exhausted and overwhelmed…something seemed to be bothering him. -Are you upset?" you ask, watching as Neteyam lays his head on your chest.

He was sitting on the floor and you were standing between his legs. This allowed a perfect height for him to lie on top of you. -"I am… but it's not you," says Neteyam, as you hug his head closer to your chest. - "Well…anytime you want to talk about it, I'm here," you say. He closes his eyes for a moment, then pulls away from you. "hey, take this," neteyam pulls out of his small pouch, a piece of food that he had wrapped in a leaf. -I saw that you left quickly…you haven't eaten anything," says Neteyam, watching as you take the piece of food and walk away from him, sitting down right in front of him. "Mmmm yeah…I was going to eat with you, but…you looked busy" you open the leaf, but neteyam could see your raised eyebrows. -"Oh, that…this is lekka…you know how my mom is about introducing me to girls" says neteyam, taking your foot in his hands to start massaging it. He didn't want you to bother with him, he wasn't to blame.

"mmm she's very beautiful, I've heard how good she is" you speak, taking a bite of the meat. Now looking up to see neteyam, he was looking at you with a soft smile on his lips. His little eyes are sparkling, as if he is looking at the most beautiful thing in this universe. -"But she's not as beautiful as you…you know that," says neteyam, watching you grimace. Trying not to laugh or choke. Neteyam reaches out his hand, to wipe some sauce from your lips. - "I'm serious… you are so beautiful in my eyes" says the boy, leaving you speechless. He always left you speechless.

You two had grown up together, although you preferred to be with mo'at. You also went to play with spider and the sully boys. Even when you were growing up you preferred to be with neteyam, nothing ever happened. You were just good friends, it wasn't until neteyam had to leave the clan that you noticed that your feelings for him were much greater. Just like neteyam, you promised each other that you would see each other again. And so he kept it, when he returned to the clan the first person neteyam went to look for was you. From then on you had not separated, starting this relationship on the quiet. You used to meet here on the plane, and only here you could be together. Outside you were just good friends…but here is your secret hiding place, you were yourselves. This situation was time consuming, and sometimes it could be exhausting for the two of you.

After eating, and making jokes about hunting neteyam. You both decided to lie down and talk for a while. Neteyam was leaning back in a rather large chair in the plane. While you were lying between his legs, with your back against his chest. Netayam was holding your hand, playing with your fingers, looking at how strange and beautiful they were at the same time. - "Hey…did you notice that now the walls of the plane are sitting more" you speak, listening as Netayam answers you with a 'hmm'. - "I won't close all the windows though, so you can still get your air in and be comfortable in here" you speak. - "you're great baby… I don't know how you have all these ideas" says neteyam, kissing your hair. "I don't know, it's just natural" you laugh, feeling Neteyam wrap his arms around your torso. To pull you closer to him, kissing your shoulder. Lately you had been wearing the na'vi outfit that kiri had given you, and neteyam loved it. He could feel you better this way, without the horrible human clothes you used to wear.

"Baby… how about if you stay to sleep with me here…today?" asks neteyam, you can feel how his tail gives you some taps on your feet. He felt nervous about your answer, it wasn't the first time neteyam proposed this to you, but you always denied it. Saying that norm was waiting for you in the lab. It was partly true, but not that much. -"Mmm I'm not sure" you start to speak, but neteyam interrupts you. -"It would only be today… I don't want to leave you" neteyam hugs you more tightly. Norm wasn't necessarily expecting you, but you knew he was going to ask a lot of questions the next day. Just like neteyam, he knew what he was expecting and even more so coming from his mother. But he didn't really care, he wanted to rest with you, to spend more time with you.

You think about it for a moment… it would be fine if you stayed here. This place was perfectly equipped, besides… you also wanted to stay with him like this. - "Well… it's okay. But we have to get up early, ok" you look up, seeing how neteyam was giving you a big smile. In one swift movement neteyam, grabs you by the waist and lifts you up to get on top of you. You were all giggles, feeling him start to kiss your neck, and chest. "I'm at your service sweetheart" neteyam says excitedly, lying on top of you letting his head rest on your breasts. Breathing deeply of your scent, wrapping his arms all over your body. Sometimes he could forget that he was almost twice your size, and that lately he had grown muscularly. -"You're crushing me," you tease, feeling him release you. -"I'm sorry" he laughs, kissing your lips one last time before settling back. You were his safe haven in this world.

In the hut…

"Hey, have you seen neteyam?" neytiri asks jake. They had gone to sleep very late, noticing that they had never seen neteyam return. Neteyam was still with them in the family hut, although he could go and do whatever he wanted. Noticing that all the kids had arrived but him. "No, maybe he went off to do something else, or he's with someone else," said Jake, not really paying attention to what he said, he was too busy sharpening his knives. But this made neytiri even more curious and she started to think. Maybe neteyame saw lekka again, and she told neytiri that she hadn't seen him so she wouldn't be embarrassed. Or was neteyam with another girl? Or he was getting tired. Neytiri didn't want to look like a stalker mother, but she had to know what was going on in her eldest son's head.

P.S What do you think of this story? I would like to know what you think. <3

1K notes · View notes

smutoperator · 10 months ago

Text

Love In An Elevator

Jo Hyewon (Zoa) x Male Reader

Tags: big tits, DSLs, elevator sex, facefucking, facial, fast-paced blowjob, first date, girlfriend, high-intensity sex, jerking off, long legs, pussy eating, restaurant, (lots of) riding, (lots of) spitting, teen, titfucking, visual

Word count: 4924

Zoa is a hidden gem. Her visuals are stunning. Beautiful deer-esque face, long legs, big and ripe boobs—she's got everything. You couldn't believe it when she accepted your proposal to date her. There might be idols who are more famous than her, but to you, she was the prettiest, without question.

You took Zoa to your favorite top-rated restaurant on your first date, wanting to impress her. Zoa gushed at your proposal, feeling really lucky she got to have a boyfriend who would take her to the best places and enjoy experiences she thought she never would.

When Zoa was eating, you couldn't stop staring at her; she was just so stunningly beautiful that she demanded all of your attention at all times. But one part of her body caught your attention the most: her big and ripe boobs under her white shirt, which made it very easy for you to see. Zoa may be just an 18-year-old teenager, but her mature personality also shows off in her sexy body, with her already having the features of a fully grown adult woman. And to you, none were more noticeable than her tits.

"Let's share this moment," Zoa said, running towards the restaurant's elevator to take a picture of herself. After she was done, she sent you the selfie. You were disappointed you couldn't see her striking face, covered by her phone, but the other parts of her body looked better than ever, as you drooled over how her navel was popping out just above her jeans and how long her legs were as she took a full-body shot at the elevator. You still couldn't believe this girl was your girlfriend; she just looks so pretty. You, for sure, would go to all lengths for her. Zoa is really that girl.

After you paid both their restaurant bills, you two entered the elevator, where she had just shared her picture, and left the restaurant. "What did you think of today's date, Zoa?" you asked her. "It was really great; I feel so overwhelmed by the way you were so kind to me and treated me like a princess," she replied. "Well, you are indeed a princess and the most beautiful woman in the whole world," you complimented her.

The elevator door closed as the machine started to go up, and you two continued to chat. The way Zoa laughed caught your attention the most; she truly had the cutest laugh you had ever heard. However, the happy mood between both of you was about to change in a hurry, as the elevator lights started to falter and suddenly the machine came to a halt.

"I'm scared," Zoa told you, as the elevator was now stuck and only the emergency lights were working. "Don't be; we'll be out of here soon," you said, trying to calm her. "I hope so; I don't like being trapped with nowhere to go," Zoa said. "I'll make sure this will go by quickly," you told her.

Easier said than done; you guys had been trapped for a while in the elevator after you said those words. The once calm and collected Zoa was starting to lose her cool, and you were running out of ways to keep your girlfriend calm. The hugs and kisses you gave her just didn't work anymore, and you could see the first tears forming in her eyes. You needed something better.

"It's getting really hot inside here; I'm starting to have a panic attack," Zoa told you. These words set your alarm bell off. You had to act quickly. At the same time, Zoa looked hotter than ever in that white shirt and jeans. But if she was feeling so much heat, you had found a solution to cool her down.

You took Zoa's jeans off, leading her at first to instantly react and cover her beautiful legs. "What are you doing, baby?" she asked. "You said it was getting too hot, so I'm helping you," you told her as you also started taking your shirt off. Zoa provided a helpful hand, and soon you were naked from the torso up while she was from her legs down.

You kept advancing on Zoa's tall, sexy body, aiming next at the spot that had taken most of your attention at the restaurant: her big and still-growing tits, sucking the area around them with her clothes still on. Meanwhile, you reached into her lower backside, running your hands all over her ass and taking her panties off. Your bulging erection under your pants was already touching the entrance of her pussy, making her moan for the first time.

More kisses ensued before you lifted Zoa's shirt slightly up, unveling her sexy belly button as you started fingering your hands all over her young pussy. With just a couple fingers inside, you were impressed by how warm and tight her hole was. You two kept kissing each other as you kept running your left hand in her legs and pussy, while she placed her right hand straight at your already throbbing boner.

Zoa increased her soft and angelic moans as you inserted a third finger in her vagina, getting louder as you started going up and down her tight pussy with them. Her legs closed around them, and she started sweating a little before you took them off her hole.

Next, you took Zoa's white shirt off, with her already unhooking her bra for you to get easier access to her big, young tits. Zoa may be the one called the giant baby, but you were the one acting like a baby, sucking her milkers in a way you had never done to your mother's. You had never seen such firm and ripe boobs like hers; truly, there isn't a single part of Zoa's body that isn't visually striking.

You kept bombarding Zoa's right boob with suckings and kisses while running your hands all over her left tit before pinning her against the elevator wall and groping both of them, leading to her giving you the biggest smile since you two had started dating. Zoa was now completely naked and submissive to you; her natural body was beautiful from head to toe, with no flaws whatsoever.

As Zoa's nipples got erect from your stimulation, you moved down her hot body, exploiting other areas. At first, you sucked the bottom of her boobs before giving a long lick between them, starting all the way down her navel and going all the way up her chest. You repeated this move multiple times, each time getting longer until you licked her from her pussy up to her mouth. Zoa being roughly the same height as you helped a lot, as once you were finished, you just needed to go down a little bit to suck her perky tits once more.

You go on your knees as Zoa spreads her left leg and her toe on the opposite wall of the elevator, while her hands hold the support with all her might as you start eating her out. After your fingers, it's your tongue that gets to know how warm Zoa's pussy is, with her enjoying every second of it as her moans get more and more frequent.

You run your tongue all over Zoa's pink teen pussy, exploiting her folds to the fullest. You start wondering which lips are better, the ones in her mouth or the ones between her legs, as you worship her pussy and move your tongue faster and faster over it. Zoa gets overwhelmed by the speed at which you eat her folds out, turning herself into a moaning machine as you keep going on.

You start making different moves all over Zoa's pussy, kissing it and spitting on it as well. But as she gets wetter inside, your urge to fuck her pussy grows. But first, you go back to do so with your fingers, making her squirt her teen juices all over them. "Oh Shit," Zoa curses and finally says something. As you simultaneously tongue her clit while penetrating her, her moans get louder, and she almost loses her balance. Sensing she is getting wetter and warmer, you increase the pace of your finger-fucking, pushing your beautiful girlfriend to the limit.

"Fuck. AHHHHH!" Zoa screams as you go full-speed with both your hands and mouth. Her pink pussy had never been stimulated like this before, as she has to use all her strength in that confined space she finds herself in not to fall down. But you don't stop, twisting your fingers inside Zoa's pussy and keeping an eye out for different angles to attack her warm hole before pulling out and going all-in with your mouth as you grab her legs and pin her down even further against the elevator wall.

You reach for Zoa's left boob as you keep eating her out. Her soft milkers are perfect for getting groped and honked hard, and her nipples are harder than ever. "Please, please," Zoa begs as you show no signs of slowing down, worshipping her hot body and especially her warm pussy.

"Yes, oh fuck," Zoa says as you move your fingers back inside her pussy, which is now a dripping wet mess. "Yes, keep going," she continues as she closes her eyes, her athletic figure trembling as you put her close to cum with just your hands and mouth. "Oh my God, shit" she continues as you finger-fuck her faster than ever, panting and moaning and grabbing her boobs, just trying to survive your early attacks.

You kiss and worship Zoa's perfect pussy, now also fondling her tits at the same time, paying extra attention to her nipples as you touch them nonstop. You then attack her clit with your tongue, challenging Zoa to stay with her leg up as you see her body shaking harder than ever. Zoa tries not to lose her breath, her body aching with pleasure at each tonguing you give her. But she can't last for long, as you go back with all your four fingers inside her, twisting them all over her pussy and finally making her cum for good.

As Zoa releases her juices out of her pussy, you worship it with tons of kisses, then move up her body to lick her fit belly, giving special attention to her navel. As you fully get up to kiss her and grope her big tits, Zoa starts unhooking your belt and taking more initiative, quickly unleashing your big cock out of your pants.

Zoa gets on her knees and furiously sucks your dick. You can tell she's not that experienced, going very aggressive on your shaft and popping it in and out of her mouth. But that's not important to you, as her mouth is even warmer than her pussy and watching that doe-eyed deer with those amazing dick sucking lips work on that prick is extremely hot. Zoa keeps licking your shaft and sucking your tip hard, her lips fully wrapped around your pole as her head starts bobbing. "Keep sucking it, keep sucking it," you tell her as she looks up and gives you a naughty stare and jerks your shaft, driving you insane with her speed. She puts just the tip inside her mouth, but that's enough to send shivers down your spine.

Zoa gets sloppier and bobs her head deeper against your cock. "Oh yes." You approve of her blowjob skills just as she gags and opens her big eyes, spitting on that dick shortly after. Her fast-paced work on your cock continues as she jerks it off frenetically before using her mouth to warm your shaft up, bobbing hard as one of her hands grabs your thighs and the other grabs your balls.

As Zoa gags on your cock, a string of saliva connects her DSLs to your throbbing tip. Your relief is short as she goes back to attack, doing to your cock what you did to her pussy: licking, sucking, throating, spitting, and using every move she knows. It's even better when she does all that with her big eyes wide open, staring at you, as you can watch her sexy empressions while sucking you off.

You can't resist for long, grabbing Zoa's head to start fucking her face as your cock rips through her DSLs, tying her hair up with your own hands to see more of her beautiful face gagging on that dick and her doe eyes rolling out of pleasure. As soon as Zoa coughs on your cock, you rattle it inside her mouth, hitting her warm walls left and right before she finally pulls out of it and gives a massive spit on your shaft, going back right after as you grab her hair and dunk her face against your balls multiple times, teaching her not to be such an aggressive cock-sucking whore as you spit in her mouth right after.

Zoa makes a mess out of your cock as the facefucking continues, her chin full of saliva that drips out of her mouth as she gets sloppier and sloppier and turns your dick into a wet mess of spit. Now it's your turn to get aggressive, as you grab her head hard and thrust inside her mouth as if you were pounding her pussy full speed, moving your hips at a fast pace as you place your right foot right at the elevator wall, and splitting her dick sucking lips open with no room for any air to enter her mouth.

After rattling your cock inside her mouth once more, you kiss Zoa passionately, tasting her sloppy and cock-flavored mouth to the fullest. Zoa kept jerking you off as you were doing it, and as soon as you pulled out of her mouth, she got back into her aggressive cock-sucking, trying to prove to you she could be your cute-looking, slutty girlfriend. "Holy shit," you said as Zoa engulfed your balls and took your cock full length in her mouth for a few seconds before her lack of experience did her in and made her gag and get out of breath. And every time she pulled out of your cock, she spat on it, quickly turning it into her signature move.

Zoa kept bobbing hard on your cock and filling it full of saliva. You couldn't complain, as you weren't going to need any lube to enter her tight, warm pussy soon after, just letting her do it as she pleased and getting your cock wet and sloppy. "Bad girl," you said as you got back to fuck her face, and once she gagged, you gave it a lot of slapping with your dick, showing her who was the real boss. "You really like to spit on that cock, don't you, you tall young whore?" you asked her, noticing how often she did it.

As Zoa got up, still jerking your cock off, you spat in her mouth. "You are getting too slutty for my liking," you poke at her, even though you really enjoyed it. "Now turn around," you say as you pin her against the elevator wall. Zoa knows what's coming, lifting her long left leg once again and placing her left foot and right hand on the elevator's handrail. In just a couple seconds, your wet cock easily slides inside her tight teen pussy. "Oh fuck, oh shit" Zoa says as she feels your shaft penetrating her.

Knowing she had already shown how much of a whore she is, you give Zoa no room to breathe, attacking her tight pussy hard from the start and kissing her as you pump her warm hole. "Ah, ah, ah, ah," Zoa softly moans as you turn her into your cocksleeve, fingering herself to get that extra pleasure, now holding both hands against the handrail to take the pounding you are giving her. "FUCK!" she screams as her cheeks start to clap and you grab her tiny waist for a better grip, manhandling her pussy full speed. "SHIT," she keeps screaming as you get addicted to her pussy and can't stop fucking her hard. Even though her insides are perfect, Zoa is truly a flawless woman, the daughter of Venus, the goddess of love.

Zoa has a hard time staying up in just one foot; you fuck her so hard she has to cling onto every support of the elevator, which itself starts to swing a little with the force of your rough poundings on her. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes," she says as you spank her ass and show no signs of slowing down. You had never fucked a girl on your first date, and the thought of fucking her in such an unconventional space turned you on a lot.

"Shit, you're fucking me so hard; don't stop," Zoa told you. And no, you were not going to stop. If it depended on you, that elevator would never go back to work again, and you'd just fuck Zoa to eternity. As you start groping her tits and add extra stimulation, Zoa spreads her cheeks to ease the pressure on her already tightening walls that you kept shaping to the format of your cock.

Zoa's left leg finally gives in as she places it back on the ground, giving you a better angle to grab her butt and hold it as you keep fucking her, now in a standing doggy position that made her look so submissive and slutty, as her vocabulary got reduced to just three words: fuck, shit, and yes.

You kept spreading Zoa's ass cheeks and pumping her warm pussy hard while also grabbing her hair and making those cheeks clap at each thrust, discovering how quickly a teen pussy can turn into an addiction that can make even the calmest men turn into raging animals who furiously pound them. Zoa gets firmly grabbed by the waist as you destroy her fuckhole nonstop, testing how hard this young whore could take your big cock fucking the shit out of her. Meanwhile, Zoa's big, ripe melons are now swinging hard, giving you the perfect opportunity to grope them and feel how hard they try to escape from your grasp every time you pound her.

Zoa regains her strength and lifts her leg up again, allowing your cock to penetrate her even easier. She gets very needy and clingy, turning her cute face in your direction and hugging you as you are still fucking her hard, looking for you to kiss her as much as you can. As much as Zoa may love your cock, she loves your touch and kisses even more, and she just wants to be a good girlfriend. And you give her what she wants: kisses up top, dick at the bottom, making the elevator make a lot of noise as you two hit its walls with your intense fucking.

As you're finally done pounding Zoa, she turns around and gives you a torrid kiss. "Am I a good girlfriend?" she ponders in her head. But you don't give her many seconds to think, instantly lifting her body up and pinning her back against the elevator's wall, forcing her to hold both hands hard into the handrail as you fuck her in a face-to-face position with both her feet up in the air.

"Oh yeah," Zoa says as she fingers her pussy and her feet reach the wall on the other side, landing close to the elevator's buttons. You truly couldn't do this position with a girl shorter than her, feeling blessed for Zoa being so tall and perfect for it.

"You don't get to have it so easy," you tell her, placing her right leg over your shoulder instead and pressing her even further against the wall, giving her a rough but very passionate missionary fucking that sends her over the moon, with Zoa giving you a kiss every time she's not moaning like a submissive slut. "AHHHHH!" Zoa's loud screams come along with the loud noises of her body banging against the elevator's wall as she gets ragdolled and enjoys it to the fullest.

It turns out such a position ends up being too demanding, not only for her but for you as well, as you get Zoa back on her feet and compensate her with another passionate kiss. This time, you let her fully spread her legs and hook them to opposite sides of the elevator, giving you the perfect view of her body, but especially her face, tits, pussy and thighs as you resume fucking her, now with one hand grabbing her head to kiss her and another groping her tits.

Zoa gets increasingly clingy, hugging you and pushing your body even closer to hers. She wants your touch, your cock, to be your cute girlfriend but also your slutty fucktoy. As the hard pounding finally starts to get you tired, you decide to try something different: lying on the elevator's floor as you look up at her goddess-esque tall body, sliding just under her long legs.

You don't even need to give a command; Zoa already knows what to do. She moves a couple steps and squats down your cock, letting herself get fully impaled. At first, you think of telling her to turn around to see her face as she rides you, but as soon as Zoa starts clapping those cheeks against your hips, you feel very appreciative of the back view she gives you, enjoying her beautiful long hair, her toned ass, and her sexy back to the fullest.

Zoa shows no mercy for your cock, riding it hard from the start. "OH MY GOD," she suddenly finds herself screaming, but doesn't slow down. She wants to prove to herself that she can tame any cock. Her moans get louder and screamier as you grind your teeth, trying to hold as hard as you can not to shoot inside her warm hole. Her tits get very bouncy, but you can't see them, and she uses the handrail to her advantage, holding onto it as she keeps bouncing on your cock.

"Wow, I never knew you could ride a dick like that," you tell her. Truth be told, not even Zoa did. Her moves are very spontaneous, the ones of a girl still discovering the pleasures and intrincacies of sex. At times, your cock feels like it's too much for her still-young and unexperienced self, but she's a strong girl ready to blossom and won't stop. The more she feels challenged, the more she wants to ride you, and the harder she goes.

Zoa stays on course; she knows that the elevator won't be turned off for long and wants to bounce as many times on your cock as she can. She starts fingering her pussy, getting wetter, and allowing your prick to slide up and down her easier. "Ah, God," she moans, riding it as fast as she can. The more you hit her sensitive cervix, the better.

You can't be just a bystander to Zoa's pleasure and decide to teach her a lesson, lifting both her legs up and regaining control of the pounding. "Oh yeah," Zoa says as you start pumping her hard back again and destroying her pussy, which has become an addiction to you. The warmth of her hole makes you go feral once more, pounding Zoa balls deep and making your cock fully disappear inside her vagina. It turns out she really likes it rough, as her cunt gets much juicer the moment you go back to manhandle her.

Zoa's pussy burns and clenches all over your cock, forcing you to pull out quickly after just a couple minutes of pounding not to cum inside her. Maybe you need to take it slow. As she turns around, she goes back to sitting on that cock, allowing you to have a full frontal view of her perfect body. "Just ride it as hard as you can," you ask her as you spank her ass. Zoa obliges, this time tilting her body as she clings onto yours and bumps her bouncy chest against it.

"GOD!" Zoa screams as you keep hitting her ass and turning it red, but that only makes her increase her intensity and go full speed against your throbbing pole, bouncing on it as if she wants to snap it in half. "Whoa," you say as Zoa now pushes you to the limit—that perfect, tight pussy biting your cock and sliding up and down—is really just too much for you.

You push your cock up Zoa's pink pussy and put a pair of fingers up her asshole, attempting to slow her down, but she won't cave this time. Zoa wants that cock deep in her pussy at all costs and keeps bouncing. Her hair covers her face, she grabs the handrail hard, and one of her hands is now in her ass to provide her with some extra impulse. "Holy shit," you say as Zoa keeps smashing your cock like nothing. You just decide to grab her by the waist and aid her, pushing her body down your shaft with even more speed, even if it makes you give in and cum inside her.

Zoa's tits are like a pair of pinballs bouncing hard as she places her hands on your chest and stares at you. Her doe eyes are fully bright; she hasn't felt this excited in a long time. Even as you push her closer to you and tilt her body sideways, she never stops. "Fuck, fuck, yes, I want that cock deep in my pussy," she tells you as her cheeks make a loud noise, clapping on your balls.

"Bad girl," you say once again as you slap her ass. Zoa agrees; she's a bad girl, a cock-craving slut, and a teen whore. As she pulls out of your cock a little bit, you think her bombardment is over, but after just two seconds, she has already regained strength to sit back on that cock. It's the only thing she wants now: cock, cock, and more cock. "OH. GOD. FUCK. AH. SHIT." These are the only words that come from Zoa's mouth, as she keeps using your chest as an impulse for her crazy bouncing.

More than 10 minutes have passed, and Zoa just doesn't seem to stop. You push up once again and try to challenge her, as one of her hands is still on the handrail while the other holds your body, but Zoa has won the battle. The truth is, you can never challenge a K-pop idol when it comes to stamina. It's futile.

As Zoa finally climbs out of your cock, she still has her hands on it, always jerking it off at every chance she gets. You stand up to kiss her, still recovering from her crazy ride, but she never gets her tiny hands out of that dick, getting on her knees shortly after to taste her pussy from it, her doe eyes looking more focused than ever. With the way she gags on it, takes it deep in her throat, and jerks it off, it's like your ride never ended. But you can't lie, you love how aggressive she is, taking every second of this elevator fuck session as if it were the last. "Oh yes, fuck," you say as Zoa engulfs that pole all the way deep in her throat in a way many seasoned veterans would be unable to.

"Fuck my face again," she says. Suddenly, that little inexperienced teen is long gone, and she is now giving you orders. She should really respect your seniority, shouldn't she? But you said to hell with it and just gave Zoa what she wanted. You just couldn't say no to the most beautiful woman on the planet, grabbing her head and shoving your big cock down those DSLs until she coughs.

You move back to the elevator's floor, and Zoa follows you as you now penetrate her in a spooning position. Romantic kisses up top and hard pumpings at the bottom ensue. One of your hands grabs her boobs, the other her neck. Zoa can only say "yes" at each pumping and moan like a whore, especially after you move your hands down her body all the way into her wet pussy. You have to grab her long legs to go faster, putting her on the edge. Her pussy tightens as you choke her and muffle her moans with your thumb in her mouth.

You keep pumping Zoa nonstop. "Right there, right there," she says before screaming hard as she cums. She then ties her hair up and gets on her knees, placing her big tits right between your dick and moving them up and down your shaft as you passively watch, searching for that cum. "You want my cum, you little whore?" you ask her. "Yes, baby, all over my pretty face," she says, keeping her aggressive titfucking session going. As you were already on the edge, she promptly gets her wish as seven gravity-defying shots cover her beautiful face full of sperm.

Zoa doesn't even get to enjoy the massive cumshot you gave her, as the elevator starts working again shortly after, leading both of you to get dressed in a hurry and act like nothing happened, with her cleaning her face of your cum just in time to emerge out of it.

It's going to be hard to top your first date.

#zoa smut #weeekly smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 11 months ago

Text

A night full of surprises

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 7.5k

Summary: This is a request I got and started to write on the 6th of June 2023 (yes, I know, this took me a while). I can't even find it in my asks anymore, but I have the author's decription copied, and it should be enough, so here it is:

"I'm thinking manipulative wanda being overly obsessed with reader to the point where she always calls you earlier than she has to leave for work so she can spend more time with you. She'll run her hands on your arms and sometimes rest her palm on your thigh while asking you difficult questions just to see you squirm beneath her presence. R on the other hand will feel very shy and intimidated by her. But there's also this attraction she kept pushing down because she has to be professional and is extremely scared that wanda will know about it and stop letting R babysit anymore, which also leads to her not seeing the middle aged woman again. But of course, being wanda, she knows exactly what R was feeling. By the way R squeezes her thighs, blush, and stutter, it doesn't have to take a mind reader to know. But one thing R didn't know about wanda is she can be impatient. She's wanted you for a long time, watched the way you'd wet yourself in front of her. Time will come where she would want a taste, where she'd take whatever is hers. After all, she's earned it for making R feel that way, right? So take she does and claim she will. And what a sweet, sweet R as reward could be..."

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, fingering, finger sucking, strap-on sex, R has a bit of an oral fixation, tribbing, overstimulation, Wanda being pervy, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

Masterlist with all my works.

Wanda loved watching you through your windows. She did it more often than she should, more often than it was appropriate for a woman like her, but she didn’t care. She hardly cared if neighbours saw her sneaking glances, or peaked through the windows whenever you were visible. As long as you didn’t know of her secret activities, everything else was inconsequential.

She adored to see you read your books, looking effortlessly beautiful on your recliner, waves of your hair falling around your face. She loved to see you retrieving your mail, or do some small things around the yard, dressed casually. She never missed the days when you went out, loving to see you all dolled up. On those occasions she liked to watch you and imagine that you did it all for her. That you’d put on your outfit to impress her, the make-up flawless, because you wanted to look nice for her. Not that she ever thought you needed all that. You were already perfect. But it made pride bloom in her chest to imagine, even for a bit, that you made the effort just for her.

Those were, of course, perfectly normal occasions, when she could see you. Then again, Wanda could never be satisfied with just that. She needed all of you, she craved you, she fantasized about you… She was obsessed. She felt a hunger so profound that she had to resort to more devious ways of seeing you.

Of course, inserting herself into your life wasn’t hard. She found a casual moment to meet you, introducing herself with a charming smile, then she invited you over to her house, just for coffee, finding ways to bond through mutual interests, she made sure to introduce you to her kids, her eyes sparkling at how quickly they grew to like you… It was easy, honestly. Before you knew it, she’d asked you for a favour, watching the boys for a couple of hours. A favour that grew into more of a non-committed babysitting arrangement.

That’s how Wanda learned about your schedule, about your job, how she soon got invited to your house. The two of you acted more like friends, than anything else and Wanda couldn’t be happier about it. Especially because, now that you had your guard down, she could easily get access to more personal information.

She’d ask you to join her at her house earlier than your scheduled babysitting appointment and she’d sit across from you, listening to you talk about your day. It almost became the norm. She’d sometimes ask you personal questions, but friends did that. So you had no problem to share that you’re single, that you liked women, a confession that brought a blush to your cheeks, feeling uncertain to mention something like that to the older woman, but she took it with a smile, which calmed your nerves.

In truth, Wanda almost jumped out of her skin with joy, knowing that little piece of information. That night, when she settled next to her window, eyes fixated on your bedroom, she watched with even more interest than before, since now she could picture what you fantasized about, while you lay in bed, touching yourself.

Yes, this was, perhaps, Wanda’s favorite part of her daily routine. She’d watch you from the shadows as you undressed, your curtains naively left open. Wanda couldn’t fathom, at first, why you left them so, considering anyone could spy on you, but she wasn’t going to complain, when she was the one hungrily watching.

You had such a beautiful body. She had admired that from day one. And when she found out how you liked to take care of yourself, she was hooked. She saw you splayed out on your bed, legs spread open, while your fingers moved inside you. You were such a pretty sight. Your back arched, your hair scattered across the pillow, your free hand teasing your nipples… How was she supposed to resist all that?

No, there was no way she could resist you, so she did what she had to, to make sure she could keep you close. And she quickly moved on from casual meetings and friendly outings to inviting you over for a day around the pool, sneaking countless pictures of you, while you were sunbathing, her fingers twitching every time she lathered sunscreen on you. She invited you for dinners, she left little treats for you, whenever you babysat for her, just so she could show you she cared. She gave you little back massages on the days you felt exhausted, she checked in on you, to make sure you’re ok. All that, and you still had no clue she wanted you!

Not to mention how often she tried to flirt, sitting next to you while you had coffee together, her thigh touching yours, while she talked, or her hands running over your arms, while she complimented you, her soft words of praise… God, she tried so hard, but you were so shy! She could see the blush on your cheeks, when she was close, she could tell she affected you, but not once did you respond. A fact, she found extremely frustrating. It made her resort to not only having to watch you through your windows, but also taking care of the burning need between her legs all by herself.

Now that just wouldn’t do. It was clear to Wanda that you were meant to be hers and after another night of hiding while she watched you touch yourself, her own hand mirroring your movements, she’d had enough. She wanted to know what you felt like, wanted to taste your lips, your skin, she wanted to breathe you in, wanted to have you under her fingertips, writhing. She wanted everything. And perhaps through some kind of miracle, fate seemed to smile upon her just a few days later.

She was asked to attend a conference out of town, and of course, she couldn’t think of a better person to entrust her children to, but you. She made sure that you’ll have everything you need, inviting you into her home with a wide smile and she gave you a copy of her schedule in case you needed anything, before she left, climbing into her car and waving at the three of you as she drove away.

She couldn’t help but smile at the notion, of all three of you, huddled together to see her off. It was the perfect picture of the family she hoped to one day have and she knew that she wouldn’t have it with anyone but you. You were perfect, smiling softly, as your eyes followed her movements, your arms wrapped around her boys. You looked so pretty and domestic, so delicate… God, how she longed this would be her reality.

Wanda couldn’t stop thinking of it all the way to her conference, the long hours of driving passing with her mind picturing countless scenarios, countless precious moments that you could share. It was so hard to shake off the thought that this wasn’t in fact real and that, despite her longing, you weren’t actually hers, that she had to sit in her car for a few minutes, grounding herself in the present, before she could join her colleagues.

The hours moved slowly, fraying her nerves, making her check her watch desperately the later it got. She could see the light of the day fading, fluorescent lights flickering to life in the building, as her colleagues droned on and on. It was getting clear that she wouldn’t be home on time and she used a quick break to give you a call.

“Hi, Wanda.” You greeted with a smile. “How’s the conference going?” You asked.

“Hi, darling.” She replied on instinct, the sound of your voice bringing a smile to her lips, despite her exhaustion, before she paused, having to remind herself that you’re not hers. “The conference is taking a little longer.” Wanda cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.” She confessed. “Would you mind staying a bit longer?” She asked, her voice apologetic.

“Of course, I’ll stay.” You replied with a smile. “We’ll order pizza for dinner, we’ll play some games, maybe watch a movie. You don’t have to worry about us.” You said in a calming tone, bringing instant relief to Wanda’s overworked mind.

“Thank you, Y/N! You’re a life-saver.” Wanda said with a sigh. “If it gets too late, just settle in my bedroom.” She continued. “Just make yourself at home. I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can.” She assured you, fingers picking at her phone’s case nervously.

“Don’t worry about us, Wanda.” She heard you say on the other end, calming, soft, almost making Wanda forget her reality again. “And drive safely. We’ll be just fine here.” You reassured her again, making the older woman sigh, as if a weight was just lifted.

Despite the shortness of the conversation, it was enough for her to feel more at ease. Enough to get her through the conference and as soon as she was able, she was back in her car and on her way to the three of you.

It was late, the roads dark and abandoned. She had to stop at a gas station to buy herself a cup of coffee, just so she could keep herself alert, her hope of making it home on time completely forgotten. She knew it would be way past the boys’ bedtime, but she hoped to at least see you.

When she reached her house, it was a little after midnight and the darkened rooms told her that all three of you were asleep, making her walk silently through the rooms, to make sure she wouldn’t wake you.

She checked on the boys first, cracking open their door, to see their sweet faces buried in their pillows, blissfully sleeping in their beds, each one tucked in with his favorite toy, making her heart swell with love. She was tempted to go in and kiss their little foreheads, but she didn’t want to disturb them, so she closed the door instead, walking further down the hall to her own bedroom.

She opened the door softly, peering in to find you tucked in. You had pulled down one of her pillows, cuddling it close to your chest, a leg swung over it. She knew it’s how you usually slept, she’d seen it enough times through her windows, yet emotions started to swirl within her at the sight. She wanted to replace the damned thing with her own body, to feel you against her, to be surrounded by your warmth, she wanted to feel your soft breaths as you slept, wanted to run her hands over your body. She thought of how much of your scent will be on her pillow tomorrow, thought about burying her face in it, while she touched herself, so she could imagine that she’s with you. Just the thought had her hands twitching.

Wanda hadn’t realized how dangerous it was, having you here, in her house, in her bed, vulnerable and asleep. Not really. Not until you were here and her imagination had started to run wild. Would you feel her if she climbed in with you? Would she be able to stop herself, if she allows herself this one small indulgence? Would you stir, if she wrapped her arms around you? Would you know, if she buried her face in your neck, while she ground herself against the swell of your ass?

Before she could take her fantasies any further, she saw you stir, her eyes widening in shock, as if caught doing something wrong, before she reminded herself that you couldn’t possibly know what she had just fantasized about.

“Go back to sleep, sweet girl.” Wanda whispered softly, clearing her throat when her voice came out raspy. “I’ll just grab some sheets for the couch.” She explained, as if she needed to give you a reason for being so close to your sleeping form. As if she got caught doing something terribly inappropriate.

It took you a moment to process her words, your mind hazy and tired, your voice rough, when you finally spoke.

“You can stay here.” You said, pulling away the covers. You wanted to say that she shouldn’t be forced to sleep on the couch, in her own house, but your mind couldn’t quite formulate the right words, so this sentence just had to do.

Wanda knew she shouldn’t. Knew it was a dangerous thing, letting someone like her be so close to you. She knew the temptation would be too great, that she wouldn’t be able to resist her urges, yet she couldn’t force herself to say no. She wanted this. No, she needed this. She wanted to spend tonight, pretending that you’re hers.

What Wanda didn’t know was that, despite your obliviousness to her secret activities, you were putting on your nightly shows just for her. Or, with her on your mind. Wanda was just so beautiful, so kind, so caring and sweet, that she had you from the very first day you met her. And the way she treated you certainly didn’t help. Her hands always found ways to touch you, compliments and praises spilling from her lips, as her eyes glided over your body. It was driving you crazy. She always left you little treats, wrote sweet notes for you to find, gave the best hugs. Not to mention you’d left her house with soaked panties so often, it was a miracle you hadn’t stained her couch yet. But you never dared tell her such a thing. You never wanted to fall from her good graces and lose her friendship, too scared that should you admit how desperately in love you’d fallen, you’d never see her, or the boys again. Yet tonight, fate her tested both of you and you were both too weak to resist.

Without much protest, Wanda pulled out a tank top and a fresh pair of panties from her drawers and she took the fastest shower of her life, before she changed quickly, so she could settle into bed next to you. You’d given up your cuddly pillow and it seemed you were once again sleeping peacefully and Wanda had to bite back a smirk, when you backed into her, your ass pressing into her.

It was almost too easy, Wanda thought to herself, as she put her arm around you. You were so warm, so soft, so exposed… She could feel that you had nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of panties on. This was the only barrier that stood between her and what she wanted. Some measly scraps of clothes. But Wanda took it slow, she nuzzled her face in your neck, breathing you in. She wasn’t sure if she was secretly taking her time, so you’d be properly asleep, so there’d be no witnesses to her depravity, so you’d never know how deep her perversions went, or how terribly she craved you. Another part of her wanted you wide awake, so tomorrow you wouldn’t be able to deny how good she made you feel. She wanted you to remember all the things she’d do to you.

In the end it was you, who made the first move. Your body betraying you, while you slept. Little moans and whimpers escaping your lips. At first she thought you might be having a bad dream, a nightmare, but soon she heard a word. Her ears strained to make it out, her arm tightening around you protectively, as if it would do any good, until she finally understood. It wasn’t a word. It was a name. Wanda. You were mewling her name like a little kitten, thighs squeezing together, trying to rut against nothing, seeking friction.

It was the last straw, really. The last bit of restraint she had, simply snapped like a twig and Wanda’s arm tightened even more, her hold so firm, you could hardly move, as she started to leave little kisses on your neck, whispering out your name, so she could bring you out of your dream and into reality.

She felt you wake up slowly, almost heard the gears in your head spin as you realized where you are and remembered Wanda coming home, remembered inviting her into your bed… Well… Her bed, really. Then you remembered what you’d just dreamt about, now more of an idea, an echo, of something distant, yet so powerful it made your cheeks heat up.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” You said, voice rough, body rigid, as if afraid that if you move, Wanda would be able to see every dirty fantasy that you’d just dreamt up.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Wanda said. Her voice was like liquid gold, smooth and seductive. “I can take care of you.” She continued, longing filling up her words. “Would you let me do that, sweet girl?” She asked, still holding you, still firmly pressed into you. “Would you let me help you feel good?”

“Wanda...” You gasped, utterly stunned. It was too much to process, and your mind was so hazy. Were you dreaming this up too? Would you wake up tomorrow, alone in Wanda’s bed and curse yourself for believing, or even hoping she would want you the same way you wanted her?

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” The older woman reassured you. “You were dreaming.” She explains, patient. “You were having quite the dream about me.” She continues, speaking as if she’d seen right into your head and knew exactly what you’d dreamt about. “I must have been very good, if I made you chant my name.” She says bluntly, smirking at the way your heart quickened at her words. “Can I confess something, Y/N?” She suddenly ask, making you wait for her next words with bated breath. “Even though you were dreaming of me, even when you were saying my name, I still couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Some imaginary Wanda was having something I want all to myself.” She told you, words whispered into the night air like a secret. “I want you all to myself.”

For a second there, you thought your heart had stopped beating. You could hardly believe it. But Wanda’s grip loosened a bit, allowing you to turn on your back, your eyes meeting, and you knew that this wasn’t another one of your dreams. This was real.

“Would you let me help you feel good, darling?” Wanda asked again, hips straddling your waist. She looked so beautiful, her blonde hair falling around her face, her green eyes, now darkened pools that never looked away, her lips parted, as if waiting to devour you. “Would you let me make you mine?”

“Please.” You almost whined. You were desperate, hands reaching up, caressing her cheek for a moment, before you were pulling her down.

Wanda’s response was instantaneous. As soon as she had your consent, she leaned down, those same, soft, pink lips you had just stared at, now claiming yours in a kiss.

She kissed you over and over again, hungry, like a barely-contained animal that was fighting to break free. She had her hands all over your body, desperate to feel as much of you as she could, caressing and stroking, eager to feel your naked skin, instead of the t-shirt you were wearing.

She broke the kiss just long enough to take the offensive item off, discarding it on the floor, without paying it much thought, before she was kissing you again, tongue invading your mouth and exploring eagerly.

Wanda was practically salivating. It wasn’t just the fact that all her fantasies were coming true. It was also how adorably submissive you were being, how eager you were for everything she gave you… It was that spark in your eyes. You weren’t putting on a show for her. You genuinely wanted her. Craved her. You were just as in love with her as she was with you. She just knew it.

Not wanting to lose anymore time, she sneaked a hand between your bodies, fingers caressing your pussy over the damp material of your panties. She was instantly rewarded with a moan, your hips canting up to meet her, desperate to feel more of the pleasure she was promising.

“Be a good girl and stay still, darling.” Wanda whispered against your lips, voice starting to vibrate with all the emotions that swirled inside her. “Unless you want me to stop?” She suggested, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“No, please don’t stop.” You mewled, shaking your head, hands clinging to her shoulders.

“Legs open.” Wanda commanded, pulling your thighs apart. She didn’t want you squeezing your legs and getting any pleasure that didn’t come from her. She’d seen you do that enough times and now that she was finally taking you for herself, she never wanted to see it again.

She took her time kissing you, fingers drawing patterns against your things for a bit, testing your will to follow her instructions, and when she saw that you’d behaved yourself, she started again. Stroking your clit through your panties, drawing slow, teasing circles over it. It was driving you crazy and you needed so much more, so it wasn’t a surprise when you finally broke down and begged.

“Wanda, please. Please, touch me.” You asked, your big eyes looking up at her pleadingly, your legs spreading even wider in a silent invitation.

“That’s my good girl.” Wanda praised, kissing you deeply, while she pulled your panties to the side. “That’s what I want you to do from now. Every time you want to feel good, I want you to come to me. I’ll take such good care of you.” She promised, voice seductive and low.

You nodded, swallowing thickly at the intensity in her eyes. You could tell she meant every word. But you weren’t given much time to think of what that could mean, her fingers gliding over your entrance, gathering the wetness accumulated there and dragging it up to your clit. She circled it gently, careful not to overwhelm you, building you up steadily.

Unable to resist much longer, her head lowered, taking a nipple into her mouth and circling it with her tongue while she stimulated you, feeling you squirm under her, your back arching into her touch and demanding more. You were a greedy little thing. Wanda liked that.

Between the way she sucked on your nipples and rubbed your clit, it didn’t take you long, before you felt yourself reaching the edge. You’d dreamt of being with her for so long, you’d pictured what it would be like so many times, you’d touched yourself to such thoughts more than you’d like to admit and now that it was finally a reality, you could hardly contain yourself. You held on to Wanda’s shoulders and hair, pulling her closer and moaning out her name, just as you had in the dream, desperate for a release.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Wanda detached herself from your perfect breasts just long enough to ask.

“Yes, I’m so close!” You gasped, wishing she would move her fingers just a bit faster. “Please!” You murmured on an exhale.

Wanda smirked then, starting a quick descent down your body, her slick fingers pushing inside you and filling you up perfectly. God, she loved the feeling of your walls squeezing her, fluttering around her frantically, like the wings of a butterfly.

“You feel so good.” Wanda almost growled, her fingers moving in and out of you suddenly. She couldn’t contain her excitement and quite frankly, she didn’t want to, either. “This is my pussy now.” She said with determination, refusing to give up this feeling. “No one else is allowed to touch you, you hear me?” She demanded, fingers speeding up, becoming almost rough. “Say it, baby. Say you’re mine and I’ll make you come so hard.” Wanda coaxed, her smile growing wider the more you fisted at the sheets and moaned for her.

“I’m yours, Wanda! Please, please, make me come.” You pleaded softly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she hit a particularly good spot.

Wanda’s body moved even lower, her head between your legs. She breathed in your scent shamelessly, making you try to hide your face from her in embracement, but she was intoxicated. You smelled so damn good. She could see her fingers disappear inside you, your wetness coating them, making her feel proud that she could turn you into such a mess.

“Don’t hide from me, baby.” She reprimanded, when she saw the way you covered your face. “Watch me.” She whispered, as if it was an invitation.

When you finally looked down, meeting her gaze, she lowered her head, tongue sticking out so she could taste you. Her lips wrapped around your clit, her soft, wet mouth enveloping you and making you almost scream at how good it felt. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You were on the edge and with a few delicious strokes, Wanda pushed you over it.

A tidal wave of pleasure washed over you, and you bit your lip in an attempt not to scream. It felt so good being full of her, being stroked by her tongue. It was better than what your fingers could offer, better than any other lover you’d had. And she kept moving in that same rhythm, milking every last bit of pleasure you could offer, until you were spent.

Wanda could tell you were done, but she wasn’t even close to being done with you. She had barely gotten a taste of you and her tongue continued to lap at your clit in eager strokes.

“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart, you’re ok. Let me clean you up.” She spoke softly, soothing you and quieting down your whines of protest.

She removed her fingers, but soon enough her tongue replaced them at your opening. She lapped at you gently, doing everything in her power to contain her hunger for you, but her hands held you down firmly, ready to stop any attempt for you to get away. She would bruise you if she held on any harder than that, you both knew it, but neither of you cared. You would wear her marks proudly. Just as you would take the overstimulation, if it meant she would keep touching you.

“You taste so good.” Wanda groaned, detaching herself just long enough to speak the words, before returning with renewed hunger.

You moaned when her tongue returned back to your clit and you had to force yourself to stay still, to take everything she wanted to give you. That’s what good girls do. Good girls take what’s given to them. And it wasn’t hard. The craving within you returned, growing harder to ignore with each stroke of her tongue. God, she was so damn good with her mouth.

“So good.” You sighed, when she lapped over a particularly good spot.

You could feel her smile as she looked up at you, repeating the motion over and over again, feeling your body relax under her fingers, now eager for her ministrations.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda praised, instantly spotting the way the blood rose up to your cheeks. She had a feeling you’d like it.

Her mouth returned back to your clit, feeling it twitch under her tongue in desperation. She wondered if you were always like this. Always so wet and needy. If you had been this way while she flirted with you, while she talked to you and complimented you, when her hands lingered… She wondered how you held out so long, without begging her to fuck you. But it didn’t matter. She had you now. And she could tell you were getting close again, your fingers had found their way in her hair and you were greedily pulling her closer, back arching with pleasure, your moans growing louder.

“As much as I love to hear you, darling, you have to be quieter. We wouldn’t want you to wake the boys.” Wanda reminded.

Her words made you bite your lower lip, trying to stay quiet while the pressure inside you kept building. Her tongue made circles and figure-eight’s, swirling perfectly and sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Every part of you she touched instantly responded, sending you in a spiral of neediness.

Your hands pulled her impossibly closer, feeling yourself reach the edge. Your back arched and a few strangled pleas’ fell from your lips, before you finally came, your mouth hanging open in a scream that never left your throat.

Wanda helped you ride it out, her tongue never stopping, until the hands that used to pull her closer, started to try and push her away. She did so with a smirk, crawling over your body so she could plant a few soft kisses on your face. She was tempted to keep going, just so she could show you that she decides when you’ve had enough, not you, but knowing what she had in mind for you next, she decided to take pity on you.

She moved off the bed after a minute, instantly seeing the concern in your eyes, when she left you and she smiled gently, before speaking.

“You just lie down and rest, dear. I’ll be right back.” She reassured you, discarding her top and panties and moving quickly and efficiently through the room, opening her special drawer with toys, so she could pull out a harness and her favorite dildo.

She made a show of putting it on in front of you, pulling out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer and coating the toy with it. Not that you needed it, but she liked to be safe. When she was ready, she stood beside the bed, tall and proud and ready to pounce on you.

“Legs open, darling. Show me that pretty pussy.” Wanda demanded as she stroked her strap suggestively.

You did as you were told, spreading your legs wider than they already were, so you could give her a good view, but it didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“I said, show me your pussy.” She repeated, voice growing stern.

Timidly, a little unsure, you reached down, fingers parting your pussy lips, until you were all on display for her. It felt a little obscene, a little embarrassing too, showing yourself to Wanda in such an intimate way, but she seemed to like it, a pleased smile appearing on her face.

She crawled over the bed, her eyes following the length of your legs, then your thighs, zeroing in on your pussy in a manner that could only be described as predatory. But instead of tearing you apart, she was going to fuck you, until you couldn’t cum anymore.

“Such a pretty thing.” Wanda admired you, her hand reaching out. She dragged a single finger through your wetness, her eyes fixated on yours. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” She suddenly asked. “How many nights I watched you touch yourself and dreamt it could be me. How hard I made myself cum, while you had your legs spread wide, just like this.” She emphasized, by spreading your legs even wider, watching the muscles strain. “But you’re not going to do such things anymore, are you?” She asked, as she started to drag the tip of her fake cock over your slick folds, getting it wet with your juices. ”Once I’m done with you…” She started off, leaning over you, so she could whisper the last of her words directly in your ear. “Nothing will ever be as good.” She promised, guiding the tip of her cock to your opening and pushing inside.

Your hands flew to her back instantly, your big, doe eyes looking up at her, while you nodded your agreement. You could hardly speak, the feeling of your walls parting for her, accepting her eagerly and squeezing around her was so overwhelmingly good, you could hardly even think, let alone process the fact that apparently, she’s been watching your nightly activities. All you wanted was this. For her steady thrusts to never stop, for her lips to keep exploring up and down your neck, planting kisses on every spot they could reach. You could tell she was leaving marks too, hickeys that marked you as hers. It was heavenly. And as her thrusts grew harder, your moans grew louder, your restraint entirely forgotten as you gave yourself completely to the moment.

“You need to be quiet, honey.” Wanda reminded again. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll have to gag you.” She warned. It sounded like a threat, but her eyes sparkling with excitement told you otherwise. You could tell she would love to do that and a part of you wanted to know what that would feel like. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” She noticed right away, an eyebrow arching up at the idea. “Stick your tongue out.” She demanded, one of her palms reaching up to hold your jaw, while you complied. “That’s right.” She nodded, her thumb running across your lower lip before it disappeared in your mouth. “Suck, baby.” She gasped, already feeling your eager tongue swirl over her digit, your lips closing around it hungrily.

You looked so beautiful like that, so content, so blissfully lost in pleasure. You were sucking on her thumb happily, your hands starting to claw at her back as she kept on thrusting inside you. Your legs had found their way around her too, your whole body pulling her in.

“Such a talented little mouth.” She mused, not missing the small blush that started to form on your cheeks. “I wonder what else you would like to have in there.” She pretended to think. “My nipples, maybe? They’re so sensitive, you know? I bet they’d feel amazing with your lips around them. Or maybe my pussy?” She suggested, feeling you hum happily in agreement. “I bet you love eating pussy.” She said with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll even get you to clean off my strap, when I’m done with you.” Wanda said with a spark in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like that? To suck me off. I’ll even get one of those squirting straps for you next time, so I can give you a treat after.” She thought out loud. “I bet you’d like that very much.”

All you could do was nod, eager to agree. You would love to get to taste her pussy, you would happily suck her off too. Not to mention sucking on her gorgeous nipples… The thought had you reeling. You wondered if perhaps she’d ever let you fall asleep while you sucked on them, all tucked in, with her warm blankets around you and her hot body pressed against you. That would be simply heavenly. But you didn’t dare say a word, too scared that she’ll take her thumb from your mouth and leave it empty, something you didn’t want happening at all. Especially when you felt so full right now. Both your mouth and your pussy were getting filled up by Wanda and each second was getting you closer to yet another climax.

Wanda could feel you get close and the pressure of the harness against her clit was driving her wild with desire, her pussy dripping with arousal. She wanted to come while she fucked you, picturing that she could cum inside you and fill you up. She pictured her fingers playing with the mess she left behind, pushing it all back inside, when it eventually leaks out, overstimulating your pussy. But that didn’t matter. She would make it all better… She just really wanted to be able to get off, while she fucked you, but the pressure of the base of the dildo against clit just wasn’t enough.

As another orgasm crashed through you, you were thankful for the fingers still in your mouth, otherwise you would have screamed, wave after wave of pleasure overwhelming your senses. Nothing had ever felt as good as Wanda’s touch and you were quickly getting addicted to the way she so easily managed to coax you into cumming, no matter how much you had already taken for her.

When you were done, she pulled out, carefully detaching herself from you and tossing the harness on the floor. When she climbed back over you, you thought she’d like to cuddle, or that perhaps she’ll straddle your face, a prospect that had you licking your lips in anticipation, but she straddled you instead, manoeuvring your body until, she could position her pussy on yours.

When her wet pussy first made contact with yours, you squirmed, feeling overstimulated, but Wanda only straddled you more securely, pinning you under her and using her hands to restrain you.

“Oh, don’t try to run from me now…” She said with a smirk, her pussy making contact with yours again. “I made you cum so many times tonight. Are you going to deny me, hm? Are you going to be ungrateful, sweetheart?” She asked, her words condescending and sweet.

You only shook your head, your fingers intertwining with hers in a silent agreement.

“Wouldn’t you like me to eat you instead?” You offered weakly, still hoping to spare yourself.

“No, darling, I want to feel you. I want to come just like this. I’m already close, baby.” She reassured you, even though she didn’t much care if that brought you any solace. “You can take it for me.”

“I can take it.” You nodded, voice strained and so small. She loved it. Loved the prospect of having you utterly spent and exhausted, so she could take care of you.

“That’s right. You just lay there and let me use you. I know you can take it for me.” Wanda confirmed proudly. “You’re such a good girl.” She praised, one of her hands stroking your hair lovingly. “Such a good, sweet girl, taking everything I give you. I’m so proud of you honey.” She murmured sweetly, lulling your brain into a submissive haze.

You hung on to every word she uttered, getting off on the praise and the warmth of her approval, your clit responding with a throb, when she started to rub hers over it. You loved it. The way she looked at you, the way she held you, the way she caressed you, her ministrations purposefully gentle and slow.

You could do nothing but surrender, happy to be used in this way, to see her close her eyes in pleasure as she continued to grind against you. Her breasts hung above you, full and gorgeous and begging for your attention and you lifted your head up, capturing a nipple between your lips and letting your tongue swirl over it.

Wanda’s response was a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a moan, one of her hands cradling your head as she continued to grind her pussy on yours.

“There you go.” She sighed happily. “Keep sucking, baby. You make me feel so good.”

She let you suck and lick over her nipples, loving the content expression she could see on your face as you did it. You looked so blissed out and she knew she could finally focus on getting an orgasm for herself, her hips picking up speed and grinding more firmly against you.

“You feel divine, darling.” She said, as she held you. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard.” She announced. “Don’t stop sucking.” She encouraged, pulling you even closer to herself, her fingers in your hair.

She moaned softly, excitement shooting through her at the thought of just how dirty this was. She had you all pinned underneath her, using your pussy to get off, her juices mixing with your own, while she had you sucking on her nipples.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Wanda gasped, her movements getting more frantic as she chased her high. “Are you going to come with me, baby? I want you to come with me.” She said with a note of urgency.

You tried to say something, your words muffled, as your face was being shoved into Wanda’s perfect tits. A part of you really wanted to come with her, feeling safe and protected in your current position. You felt enveloped by Wanda, by her taste, her scent, her voice, the heat of her body on top of yours. It was perfect really. Then there was the other part of you, that felt utterly fucked out already and entirely unable to take another orgasm. But as soon as you felt her body go rigid, her stuttering thrusts getting erratic and then almost stopping as she came, your body decided for you. You let go, your orgasm crashing over you and making you moan.

Wanda had to fight back a scream as she finally came, her clit twitching and throbbing as it was being rubbed over your own. She couldn’t picture a better way for herself, loving how close you were, how intimate it felt to get off like this. She loved it even more that you came with her.

Your orgasm was much shorter than hers, your whole body utterly spent already, but you held on, taking the overstimulation that sent almost painful jolts through you, and waiting for her to finish, wanting her to enjoy herself as much as she liked.

When she was done, Wanda was kind enough to pull away from your pussy, finally having mercy on you, after she saw the exhausted look on your face.

She stood up briefly, getting you a glass of water and she watched you drink it, before she returned to bed, trying to snuggle you and finally let you rest, but feeling you resist her.

“I didn’t even get to taste you.” You murmured gently, the cutest pout she’d ever seen appearing on your face and making her let out a laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get to taste my pussy too, baby.” Wanda reassured you. “You’ll get a chance to show me how good you are with your tongue. Now, rest. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.” She whispered in your ear, the arm around you pulling you closer to her.

She watched you fall asleep, eyes sparkling and full of adoration, fingers playing with your hair calmingly, until you fully relaxed in her hold, breathing evening out.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you.” She spoke softly, memorizing each detail of your face. “All mine now.”

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!reader #top!wanda #scarlet witch

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hauntingofhouses · 10 months ago

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Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #just in case... im gonna tag this as #mizukemicritical #akemizucritical #though this post isnt actually criticising the ship itself but rather fanon's portrayal of the ship and the characters #for that reason lemme also tag this as #wank.mp3 #feel free to disagree of course but please be civil #and if you need to rant about how wrong i am without any convincing evidence kindly feel free to make your own post. peace and love <3 #fandom.rtf #meta dissertations.pdf #shut up haydar #edit: for full disclosure. i do rather dislike this ship. but obviously it's fine for anyone to enjoy it. please do! have your fun!#it's just that as usual! popular fanon and fandom around a ship is what has completely deterred me from any sense of enjoyment of it #it's a shame too because i was very open and even eager for some mizu/akemi romance in the future #but out-of-character fanon + the rudeness of certain fans has definitely soured it for me #but that doesn't mean people can't enjoy it obviously! ship and let ship!!!#plus it has its appeal which i DO STILL see and enjoy!!!!#i would even go as far as to call them soulmates because their narratives and characters are LITERALLY intertwined!!!#but. yeah. my gradual distaste for this ship is indeed very unfortunate.

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bluerosefox · 7 months ago

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Masks and Moonlit Night

-Crashes through DPxDC window and sticks a new AU sticky note down on everyones foreheads-

ANGER MANAGEMENT MASQUERADE BALL AU!

Jazz is forced by her parents to go to all Masquerade ball at Vlad's, whose using Jazz as both a way to keep Danny in line (as well as Jazz, basically Danny can't fight back or he'll hurt Jazz and Jazz can't fight back because he'll also hurt Danny who he has locked up at the moment) and to 'impress' the elites (As much as Vlad wants to use Danny for the party he knows the boy would do something to embarrass him in front of them, he at least knows Jazz will keep her manners in check) with how intelligent his goddaughter is.

During the ball, Jazz (in a stunning dress and mask, think like manhwa worthy outfit tbh if you want) meets Jason (who lost the Bats/Birds most recent 'Not it' game and was made to go with Tim to Vlad's party) and both hit it off when they meet in the garden, under moonlight, both wanting some fresh air.

Jazz wants to enjoy her time with Jason but worries about Danny and thus tries to leave and figure a way to help him without tipping Vlad off she was trying to save her brother. However she notices she's being watched by some ghosts Vlad employed and no doubt would report her should she even try. So she kinda uses Jason as way to keep them being unaware of her planning... or at least that was the case until she noticed another Team Phantom member sneaking into Vlad's place and knows its only a matter of time before her brother is freed.

Within the hour she gets a text from Danny who tells her, he's out and gonna fight Vlad for locking him up, that Dani is with him too so it'll be double beat down and that he'll come get her soon.

She is pulled away from the text when Jason asks what books she likes to read and now with the weight of her brother needing to be safe, or as safe as he could be, is lifted off her shoulder she answers.

Its magical, its wonderful, and for a moment Jazz is able to actually enjoy this party, ignoring the pained hits Vlad was no doubt receiving from what she can hear with her liminal enchanced hearing, because talking to Jason, or J as he introduced himself as, was very fun and wonderful and wow he was very handsome even with his mask and-

Jazz is startled out of her wondering thoughts when she could hear someone in the party scream, no doubt Danny, Dani, and Vlad's fight probably bleed into the main hall and she could see people starting to run out.

Jazz sits on the bench as Jason goes running in, no doubt curious as to what is happening and going to get his 'brother' Tim who he came to the party with out. Jazz takes off her mask and sits it down the bench and waits before Dani appears and says they should get going, Danny is keeping an angry Vlad busy and that she can take Jazz home.

By the time Jason comes back, with a researching on his phone Tim, all he finds of the charming woman he met at the dumb ball he got dragged to was her mask on the bench.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #anger management #Jason was dragged to a ball with Tim who always has to go to these kind of parties/galas/social events #He meets Jazz in the garden under moonlight #its very out of a romance book kinda meeting #he loved talking with her #about books and things #and they just hit it off #He forgot to get her name though #He also noticed she seemed tensed for a while before relaxing after getting a text #they flirted hard #But then apparently a ghost attack happened and he went to go find Tim to figure out wth is happening #When he came back she was gone and only her mask is left behind #Jason moons over what ifs. Tim meanwhile is uncovering things about what happened #he also might had overheard things from the ghost fight #and knows the ghost boy Phantom is a good guy and this Plasmus is bad

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 8 months ago

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Hannibal Lecter X Reader: Us lonely few

Warnings: talk of loneliness, smut, kissing, rough sex, unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), drinking, no use of y/n

Word count: 2,5K

The sound of Ave Maria floats out of Hannibal's office. It makes you hesitate, your hand freezing in mid air. You weren’t supposed to be here at such a late hour but you’d lost track of time. You started working as Hannibal's secretary a month ago. He’d never found himself in need of a secretary but you'd managed to impress him. He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up as he spoke about the mysteries of the mind so he decided to keep you around.

It was nice to have someone nearby. It didn’t matter that you usually remained outside of his office as you worked, just the thought of not being alone seemed to ease Hannibal. He liked your company. You were younger than him but you shared his taste for the finer things in life. Conversation came easy when he was with you. It was almost as if you’d been made for each other.

You knock on the door waiting for a response. When one doesn't come you lean your ear against the wood trying to listen for Hannibal's footsteps. The only sound that fills your ears is music. It’s likely he can’t hear you because of the song. You can barely hear yourself as you call out for him.

“Dr Lecter, I'm coming in.”

As always his door is unlocked. You push it open with ease, momentarily balancing the books you were holding on your hips. You close the door behind you before moving to scan the room, trying to find Hannibal. He has his back turned to you but somehow he still manages to sense your presence.

“I thought you’d gone home.”

You walk over to his desk placing the books you were holding on it before going towards him.

“I lost track of time. Your books are very fascinating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them but I can't have you staying after hours.”

“You stay after hours.”

Hannibal looks up from his drawing to look at you. You meet his gaze, waiting to see how he’ll react to your comment. He stays serious for a second before smiling at you.

“I suppose you're right.”

“I usually am.”

You grin at him before turning your attention back to his sketches. You lean over Hannibal's shoulder trying to get a better view. He watches you as you observe his work. He inhales deeply trying to commit your scent to memory. You're oblivious to his actions, far too focused on the drawing before you. It's a nude portrait of a woman. You can’t help but notice the way Hannibal has drawn her. There is a sensuality to the portrait but there is also a loneliness to the woman's expression.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes she is.”

“Why’s she sad?”

“What makes you think she’s sad?”

“The way you drew her.”

You point to the image carefully so that you won't smudge the pencil.

“She's looking behind herself as if she’s searching for something but the way her arms are wrapped around herself shows she didn’t find what she wanted.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well she’s holding herself isn't she? I mean, she didn’t find someone to hold her so she had to hold onto herself. She’s lonely.”

“ I guess I didn't think about it that way.”

“Art has a way of bringing our feelings to the surface. Even if we ourselves don’t know what we're feeling.”

“Are you insinuating that I'm lonely?”

“Aren’t you?”

Hannibal eyes bore into yours as he thinks. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe that is why, after all these years, he found himself with a secretary even though he didn't particularly need one.

“It’s okay to feel lonely. It doesn't make you any less strong.”

“Do you feel lonely?”

“I’ve felt alone my whole life. So yeah you could say loneliness is something I'm familiar with.”

Hannibal placed his hand over yours causing you to look at his face. His eyes softened as he took in your features. You were a pretty thing. He’d been so impressed with your mind he often forgot you also had a beauty he hadn't had the pleasure of being graced with in a long time.

“Do you enjoy filet mignon?”

You let out a laugh at his question, eyes furring in curiosity.

“I do. Why?”

“I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“At your house?”

“Yes.”

“As long as I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all. I enjoy your company.”

Hannibal's house was very him. There were artworks scattered around the rooms and knowledge seemed to seep out of the walls. You removed your shoes and placed them by the door. Hannibal looked at you questioningly. “I don’t want to get your floors dirty.”

“If you feel more comfortable that way, be my guest.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. The kitchen is this way.”

You followed Hannibal, eyes moving over every inch of his home you could see. A small gasp left your lips as you walked into the kitchen. You always enjoyed the culinary arts but you’d never had the pleasure of owning a kitchen big enough to explore your talents properly. Hannibal watched you as you moved around the room, a small smile tugging at his lips at your unfiltered fascination.

“I take it you enjoy cooking.”

“I’ve always had a curiosity for it but I'm not very skilled. I won’t die of hunger but I've never made any adventurous recipes. Just the basics you know?”

“Would you like to sous chef?”

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful. You can start chopping the onions.”

You moved over to him grabbing the knife he handed you before moving to get the onions and a cutting board. Hannibal unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and pushed it up his arms allowing you to see his muscles. Your gaze lingered for a moment before focusing on your task once more. Hannibal moved around the kitchen with ease as he searched for the ingredients he needed. It was almost like a dance. You couldn’t help but watch him as he moved. He seemed so peaceful like this his mind completely focused on the meal he was preparing.

Your eyes started to sting as you continued to chop the onions. You sniffed quietly which caused Hannibal to look up at you. He watched as a single tear fell from your eyes before falling onto the counter. He moved over to you on instinct. You felt a hand on your cheek, turning to face Hannibal at his touch. His thumb moved over your skin, collecting your tears. It was an innocent caress but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He pulled his hand away from you, moving his thumb to his lips. He licked at his thumb, removing your tears from his skin. Your heartbeat fastened at the action.

“Let’s switch tasks dear. Can’t have you crying in my kitchen. You can cut the meat.”

He paused for a moment glancing at the piece of raw meat on the counter before looking back at you.

“Unless it’s too much for you.”

“I’m not afraid of getting my hands a little bloody Hannibal. I’ll be fine.”

He knew you didn’t mean anything but it but his mind couldn’t help but wonder what you were capable of. You seemed like the type of person who knew how to hold their own. Still he wondered how far you’d be willing to go.

Hannibal took over chopping onions as you worked on the main piece of the meal. One he’d finished he moved over to watch you. Your hands moved over the pieces of meat with an unusual softness. Despite that you seemed to be having a hard time figuring out how big the pieces should be. Hannibal sensed your struggle. He moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he reached to place his hand over yours. You twisted your head to the side to look at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not at all dear. But you can cut the medallions a bit larger. Here let me help.”

You relaxed your arm so that Hannibal could maneuver your body in the way he wished.

“There. That thickness is better.”

You turned to face him once more expecting him to be looking at the meat. Instead you found him staring at you. Your eyes dropped to his lips momentarily. You were so close to him that you could smell his aftershave. A breathy sigh left your mouth the air fanning over his lips. You wanted him to kiss you. His mouth opened but instead of kissing you he spoke.

“Could you set the table for us?”

“Oh. Yeah sure.”

“The silver ware is in the third drawer on the left.”

With that Hannibal unlatched himself from you allowing you to move over to where you needed. You walked over to the dining room. Your hands trembled as you placed the silver ware down. Hannibal's voice rang out from the kitchen.

“You can take a seat. It will be ready soon.”

“Okay.”

A couple moments later Hannibal walked in with a platter in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Do you drink?”

“Occasionally. But I'm not picky.”

“This wine was aged in a maple barrel. It has a sweet taste to it which will go perfectly with the meat.”

“Everything looks delicious.”

“I agree.”

You couldn’t help but notice Hannibal wasn’t looking at the food as he spoke, he was looking at you.

You ate until you couldn’t anymore. Hannibal filled up your cup as soon as you downed the last sip. After you finished dinner the two of you made your way to his living room. You were a little tipsy due to the wine causing you to become unfiltered. You padded against Hannibal's floor, moving to music that only you could hear. He enjoyed watching you like this. You were usually so formal around him it was nice to see you in a more relaxed manner. Hannibal observed you stumble over to his piano, hands toying with the keys before glancing in his direction.

“Do you play?”

“I do.”

“Will you play for me?”

Hannibal could never deny an audience. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, making his way over to where you stood. He sat down on the bench as you moved to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. Hannibal flexed his fingers, straightening his posture a bit before he began to play. The second his fingers began moving over the keys you became mesmerized. You walked over to the other side of the bench taking a seat beside him. You observed his fingers glide from one key to the other. He made it seem so easy. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sounds. As the song came to an end you slowly opened your eyes, a smile plastered against your face. You looked over at Hannibal only to find him already watching you.

“That was beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Your eyes softened at Hannibal's words. Your hand moved to cup his cheek. Slowly, you inched your face closer to his until your lips were inches apart. You placed a gentle kiss to his mouth waiting to see how he’d react. When he didn't pull away you kissed him again with a little more strength this time. Hannibal opened his mouth to you. Your tongues moved together as you deepened the kiss. Hannibal's hand wrapped around your hips lifting you up with ease. He placed you on his lap. Your back dug into the keys of the piano as you continued to make out. Hannibal's hands dug into the flesh of your ass causing you to whine. You bit his lip, tugging at it with your teeth as you broke the kiss. Your hands moved over Hannibal's shirt, fingers working on unbuttoning it. He could sense the desperation in your actions. He moved his hand over to your chest tugging at the buttons of your dress shirt. The buttons seemed to be toying with him. He lost his patience. Before you knew it Hannibal had ripped your shirt open. You gasped as he leaned down to kiss the valley of your breasts.

“Hannibal…”

“What is it?”

“Take me to your bed.”

The soft sheets of Hannibal's bed rubbed against your face as your body moved with his thrusts. Your fingers dug into his pillow as you screamed out his name. There was no mercy in his movements. He was fucking you so hard you were sure you wouldn’t bae able to walk tomorrow. You thought he’d stop after the first round but you’d been wrong. Once you’d gotten tired of riding him he’d flipped you around shoving your face down onto the bed before lifting your ass and continuing to pistol into your.

The bed creaked as he moved, muffling the sounds of your moans. His hands moved against your ass, fingers leaving crescent moon shapes on your skin as he continued to manhandle you. You were squeezing him so much that he was having a hard time moving in and out of you. He reached his hand to your waist lifting you off the bed. Your bare back pressed against his chest. Hannibal licked at your earlobe before biting into it. You let out a yelp causing him to shush you.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

“Hannibal i can’t-”

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

He placed kisses against your shoulder blade as one of his hands found their way to your pussy. His thumb found your clit. He grunted as he circled the small bundle of nerves. You panted against him, hands grabbing at his hair to anchor yourself. Your jaw fell slack as your orgasm washed over you. Hannibal stopped supporting your body causing you to fall forward into the bed. His grunts became more constant as he continued to fuck into you. It took a couple thrusts but soon enough he was spilling his seed into you. You heard his groan as he pulled out. You remain unmoving, still trying to recover from your orgasm. Hannibal returned to bed, laying down beside you. He tugged you closer to him. You laid your head on his chest, fingers moving to play with the hairs on his chest. He listened to you breath, his hand moving to caress your hair as he did.

“You were right.”

“Usually am. But what was I right about exactly?”

“She was lonely.”

You let out an understanding hum, comprehending what he was confessing to you.

“Is she still lonely?”

“No. Not anymore. She found someone to keep her company.”

“I’m glad. I’m sure they were just as lonely as she was.”

“It's a good thing they found each other then.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The two of you had been crafted by different artists but in your own way you’d been made for each other. If you hadn't been sure of that before you were certain of it now.

#smut #smut fanfiction #smut tag #hannibal #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen smut #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal tv show #nbc hannibal #gender neutral reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lector #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannigram

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ennabear · 27 days ago

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hehehe haii :P quick roblox with sevika blurb, inspired by lyss and pluto who are my roblox family 🤎 this is stupid and silly hehe don’t mind me i just think old woman playing video game is funny. also mutuals add me on roblox my username is sevikasgf_real!!

general:

ok so first of all, it would take FOREVER for her to make an account 😭 she does not know how to make a username and she’d probably try to enter something like “tittysucker2000” and get mad that the system says it’s not appropriate. but after a while of her struggling to come up with something that isn’t censored, she’d settle for something cute (like ennasgf_real) because you got tired of her struggling and being annoying.

her avatar would be so fucking funny!! purple skin and a bob, some random shirt that she found for free in the catalog, probably a picture of someone’s dog or something. she’d end up clicking around too much and find a way to make all of her limbs different shapes and sizes but not know how to fix it, so she just embraces the look of her avatar.

if you bought her robux she’d very likely spend it all in one place… she’d see a random costume that she wants to buy and suddenly all of robux are down the drain…

she would get banned from voice chat INSTANTLY. ignores all of the warnings that pop up on her screen for not following the guidelines. it starts with a ton of quick suspensions and then she’s just permanently in vc jail.

SCREAMS at the little kids who bully her. is not ashamed to get in a little online scuffle in order to protect her ego. nobody is about to call her ugly or old or uneducated if she can help it… this, obviously, is how she ends up getting banned.

also she gets noise complaints when she plays. multiple. from you and her neighbors both, she just completely forgets about volume when someone says that she’s probably lying about having a wife… but it is a little bit cute to know that she’s doing it in your honor.

it would take her FOREVER to figure out voice chat. she doesn’t know how to do it off the top of her head, so she googles how to do it but can’t find a straight answer. goes running around the house in search of her passport because she thinks that’s what she needs but you’re just like “babe… enter your phone number and it’ll let you… that’s all you need to do…”

dress to impress:

playing with her would be so fun because she does not know her way around anything. you’d force her on to dress to impress and she’d be so lost. is not aware that there’s a time limit or a theme to follow. by the end of the round she’s still gray and her outfit is half finished and she’s like “what is it doing?? why is there a runway??? i wasn’t done with my outfit.”

the people in the chat would respond like “bruh what is this” or “oh!” to her outfit, but you’re there to back her up and vote her 5 stars anyways <33. but if they start to get too mean, she’ll force you to tell her how to use the chat and she’ll type something like “fuck you guys at least i have a wife” which of course comes out as all ####.

and when she sees all of the tags, she’d be like “what the hell?? i didn’t type that 😭” and you’d have to gently explain to her that it’s because roblox filters certain things you say, especially like “fuck you” and probably every other thought that came to her mind when she was typing it.

ofc you and her would both get first and second place because you vote each other 5 stars, even though her outfits are… well… you know… not the prettiest…

murder mystery:

if you thought her in dress to impress was bad, it gets WORSE. no matter how many times you explain to her the rules of the game, she is LOST, as well as every single synonym for confused in the dictionary. perplexed. puzzled. stupefied. dumbfounded. all of the above.

as an innocent, she’d probably just follow you the whole time, waiting until the sheriff kills the murderer or time runs out.

as the murderer, she’d probably tell on herself IMMEDIATELY. has her microphone on in voice chat and says “what does it mean that i’ll get my weapon in 10 seconds??” and she’s shot before the round even lasts half a minute. either that or she’d keep it to herself, but walk around with her knife out the whole time absolutely cluelessly. she probably thinks that others can’t see it, or maybe she can’t see it herself.

she’d be like “babe i’m so scared :( i wonder who the murderer is…” and she’s standing in front of you like 🤷🏽‍♀️🔪 LMAOOO

as the sheriff, she’d either shoot some random person who walks past her and die for getting it wrong, or she’d freak out and spam 100 different buttons while trying to shoot the murderer. she’s jumping and running around, screaming at the top of her lungs because she’s so scared, clicking her screen in every place but where the murderer is standing.

with others:

imagine jinx and isha existing in this universe, she’d drain her whole bank account on robux for the 3 of them 😭 but, and as much as she’d HATE to admit this, she actually really enjoys playing with them.

isha is still learning how to spell, so her and jinx would cackle at everything the poor girl types coming out as straight hashtags. especially when she’s fighting with someone, they’d both watch her get heated and absolutely smash her little fingers into her ipad keyboard trying to type things out, but then comfort her when she gets too frustrated to continue.

also, if isha ever gets hit with “you’re probably a 5 year old” from someone, sevika would be like “yeah, she is 😭” but jinx would stand up for her and type out PARAGRAPHS about how isha is so young and still better than whoever insulted her. jinx 100% has memorized all of the words that roblox flags, so she has no problem facing the hashtags.

they’re also such bad influences on your wife, they manage to convince her to buy more robux for them almost every week. you’ve caught her up in the middle of the night, phone sideways in her hand running around in a new game she’s found. you try taking your family out to dinner and they all just pull out their phones (isha, her ipad, still too young for a personal phone) and hop onto some new game jinx found. it’s adorable, yes, but definitely not the best habit she’s ever formed.

#if u guys see me playing sevika obby every day… no you don’t…#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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jbaileyfansite · 1 month ago

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When it comes to long-awaited films, there are few movies with as much anticipation as Wicked. Inspired by Gregory Maguire’s best-selling novel, it became a cultural juggernaut when it transitioned to the Broadway stage. Now, one can't talk about the Wicked Witch of the West without talking about Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) and Galinda/Glinda (Ariana Grande). While the massive film has brought Oz’s witches to life like never before, it's Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey) who’s most benefitted from the stage-to-screen transition.

Fiyero's roots can be traced back to author L. Frank Baum’s original Oz lore, though the Winkie Prince himself is Maguire’s creation. On stage, Fiyero is a lovable troublemaker who flirts, and of course, dances, his way through life. The big screen version of Wicked honors this while adding a uniquely wonderful twist to his Lothario nature. When Fiyero arrives in the show, he charms Galinda in a very similar way to what he does on screen, but Fiyero’s actions in the movie aren’t solely to impress Galinda. Rather, he is out to create a real sense of joy for everyone, an effort that is made clear through his flirtation. While an ensemble number on Broadway, his stage counterpart spends the whole of the song with Galinda, where the film has him flirt and dance with a multitude of Shiz students to help them celebrate life.

While Fiyero mirrors some of cinema’s most iconic “bad boys,”one of the best changes the movie makes is his sexual ambiguity. He shares his seductive side with all of his fellow students, no matter their gender. And, what’s more, he genuinely enjoys it, sharing some of his steamiest flirtations with male cohorts. It’s a wonderful way to not only shake up the archetype but also makes Fiyero himself feel more fleshed out. But the greatest alteration comes from his relationship with Elphaba.

Elphaba Reveals That Bailey’s Fiyero Is Deeper Than He Seems

On stage, Fiyero starts to show depth in the second act, but Wicked doesn’t make audiences wait for the second film to see that there is more to the character. Both of Fiyero’s scenes with Elphaba exist on stage, but Bailey and Erivo fill their interactions with nuance. Both actors give their first meeting new meaning with the screen version. The musical usually plays this moment as an unpleasant introduction, but Erivo and Bailey play the scene as an undeniable flirtation. It’s a fantastic way to set up Elphaba’s upcoming conflict and solidify the complication that brews below Fiyero’s surface. Bailey brings a boyish charm to the scene that makes it clear he is undeniably taken with Elphaba (the first person in the film to be so), and he continues to add depth to the character after he and Elphaba free the imprisoned lion cub.

She gets under his skin in a way no one else can. While many in Shiz lust for Fiyero, no one can see his internal unhappiness except for her. When she touches him, Bailey shifts his performance and makes it clear that she is the first person to make Fiyero really look within and question what he wants out of life. It’s a beautiful way to foreshadow the conflict he will continue to face in the second part of Wicked and pulls on the heartstrings of moviegoers. He immediately goes from a lovable flirt to a relatable, deeply complicated young man who just might find himself in the woman who will eventually be perceived as Oz’s greatest villain.

Indeed, there is no denying that Wicked has used its new medium to reinvent Fiyero. From twisting an age-old archetype to Bailey’s fantastically intricate performance, he’s become a far more interesting version of the character. As audiences anticipate the next installment, it’s safe to say that Fiyero is set up for even more exploration.

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#wicked #wicked movie #fiyero #fiyero tigelaar #jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #wicked spoilers #NEW!

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

Text

playgirl | Leah Williamson x Reader

warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus, fluffy soft smut 18 + minors dni

lots of angst, smut, hurt, fluff it’s a mixed bag lol

lots of people who are wanting to see some sammy k smut so lmk if you want to see anything specific xoxo and enjoy my lovely’s!

It was no secret that Leah Williamson got her way around. No secret to her teammates, no secret to the soccer community, no secret to all of the women in North London, no secret to you. Somehow though, for some reason it had drawn her to you, you were teammates for fucks sakes, you being on loan from San Diego and her being a accommodating captain who had offered a spare room in her house to you, whilst you figured out your bearings and in what world were you in the place to say no. From day one you had been infatuated with the woman, something that Alex Morgan had warned you of, having gotten word from Tobin that Leah liked to have fun, sometimes too much fun. Your first impression of Leah was that she was lovely, accompanying the Arsenal team to pick you up from the airport and everything. Her eyes were what truly had you enamoured with her, the way that the greyish-blue pierced through anything that she looked at.

Once you’d gotten back to her house she’d showed you around, informed you that whilst she tried her hardest to cook she wasn’t very good at it, and that she went to a teammates house most nights to eat. You’d told her that cooking was no issue, that because of your italian heritage you’d grown up in the kitchen, learning your Nona’s tricks from when you could walk. Leah was elated by that news, insisting that once you’d settled in you’d have to cook for her and you’d smiled at her and agreed. Leah had been nothing but accommodating and for a little while you’d found doubt in Alex’s words, that was until a few weeks into your stay with Leah you went out on a Saturday night with the team. It had started tame, a dinner out together as team bonding, which had ended in Katie deciding on which night club for the team to hit and from then it had gotten rowdy.

The London girls were very clearly decorated partiers, you however weren’t. You hardly drank to begin with, so whilst your teammates were busy with getting wasted on their weekend off, you were not, leaving you to observe the actions of your new teammates. Leah lasted a total of fifteen minutes in the club, something that most of the girls didn’t seem to be surprised by. Fifteen minutes in she was pulling a girl from the bar out of the club with her, both of their hands roaming in places that were not acceptable for a public space. It hadn’t taken you long to realise that the night was going to end similarly for most of the girls you were with, either them picking up somebody or heading home with their partner. Alessia was hellbent on getting you drunk, something you were not a fan of, but her being one of the only girls not on the dance floor or throwing themselves all over someone meant that you’d quickly paired up, also being the newer pair to the crowd. Eventually, you got sick of Alessia’s persistent begging for you to take a shot with her, pawning her off to Katie and then calling an uber for yourself back to Leah’s apartment.

When you made it through the door of the house you were unsurprised to hear the sound of moans filling the noise barrier, coming from upstairs. Just from the sound of the illicit moans you figured out that whoever Leah had brought home with her, was very drunk and that she wouldn’t last very long. With that thought you went about my normal nighttime routine that you’d fallen into during your time in England, by the time you’d gotten through it and fallen into bed the incessant sound coming from the room next to yours seemed to have ceased.

You got up at your normal time the following morning, ignoring the small headache you had from the combination of the glass of whiskey you’d had at dinner the night before and the lack of sleep you’d gotten. Climbing down the stairs in your pyjamas and with a mess of curls that you couldn’t really be bothered with taming this early in the morning and making a beeline straight to the coffee machine. It was when you were about halfway through your first cup of coffee for the day and second slice of toast that you heard the ruckus from upstairs, that you’d patiently been waiting for. You kept your eyes on the papers that youd had been trying to read, yesterdays copy that Leah had gotten from the shops on her way home from training. As much as Leah had tried to interest you in her beloved news, you had no interest. You waited about another minute before you were rewarded with the sound of two sets of pattering feet coming down the staircase.

“Was I seriously such a bad lay you can’t remember my name?”

Ten seconds later you were blessed with the sight of the girl that Leah had brought home from the night before, making her way down the stairs, half dressed and trying to tug her dress that left hardly anything to the imagination and struggling to pull her shoes on whilst Leah tried to grab for her.

“Lina, fuck, Lila, I’m sorry, you were great.”

The girl stopped at the foot of the stairs, glaring up at Leah. It was like watching a sitcom, except this was real life and it was all unravelling horrifically in front of your eyes.

“My fucking name is Lisa, if you gave to shits you’d know that. Fucking athletes.”

The girl turned back around, batting away at Leah’s hands that were trying to grab for her wrists. The girl made it to the front door, bringing her middle finger up towards Leah and slamming the front door behind her.

Leah stayed paused in front of the door for a few seconds before muttering,

“Good morning and good fucking riddance.”

She trudged her way into the kitchen, walking straight to the kettle and starting it, one of the things you’d learnt about Leah whilst staying with her was that the woman was hardly functional without her morning coffee and you couldn’t expect her to get anything done without her having consumed her beloved caffeine.

“Is that how all of your one night stands end?”

There was cheek in your voice, something you weren’t apologetic for but a little bit scared of, this was uncharted territory for you and Leah. You had heard her have girls over, she kept it fairly quiet though, sneaking them in well after you were supposed to be asleep and sneaking them out in the middle of the night or waiting for you to go on your morning run before disposing of them.

“Not normally, no.”

Leah’s voice held a little bit of humour, but mainly shock, her body language still reflecting her complete disbelief over what had just happened.

“Who would have thought, the mighty Leah Williamson being humbled so early in the morning. Forgetting her name? That’s amateur shit.”

Leah looked up at you, her eyes hooded with disapproval of your words but also not outright denying your words.

“We were both so drunk, I’m not even certain she gave me her name. She was a good lay but god was she whiny, glad she’s gone.”

Leah finished preparing her coffee and sat down in the seat beside you at the kitchen table. Tugging the paper she knew you had no interest in reading over to her side of the table so she could actually read it.

“How do you know that she wasn’t just whiny because you were a shit lay.”

You didn’t even know where that cockiness had come from, you bit your lip as your far older, and scarier teammate looked up from her paper at you, a little bit of a smirk playing across her face.

“Trust me honey, I’m not the problem and half of London could confirm that.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah, taking another bite of your toast and watching her very quickly become infatuated with whatever she’d stumbled upon in the papers. You took a sip of your coffee before saying anything, letting her words sit in the room and mellow out.

“Doesn’t count if you are fucking them all when their drunk, intoxication increases the amount of endorphins your brain is producing Williamson, so science says that even if you are a good lay, half of what those girls are feeling is the alcohol.”

Leah didn’t look up from her paper, but smirked as soon as the words left your mouth, giving you enough of an indication that she’d heard your words. She finished her page, taking her time reading over the words whilst you sipped dutifully from your mug. When she finished her page she flipped over to the next one, but looked up at you, her head cocked just a little bit.

“Baby, trust me, alcohol or not I’m the best lay any of those girls have had, there’s a reason why my phone is always buzzing.”

It was something that you’d noticed in your weeks at Leah’s house, whether you were sitting on the couch watching a movie together or eating dinner, her phone was always vibrating and she was always staring down at it, typing furiously like a six year old and any time you tried to ask her about it she always brushed you off.

“Is that not just because you go for the straight ones though?”

Leah choked on the sip of her coffee that she’d taken during the brief break of time between her previous words and your rebuttal. She swallowed her coffee before letting out a chesty laugh, there was condescension in it though, something unknown hidden behind it.

“Straight or not they’re all screaming my name honey.”

Leah’s voice held so much confidence, it was entertaining. Listening to her talk herself up so much, you couldn’t help but try and take her down a peg or two.

“Yeah screaming your name on the way out the door when you forget their name.”

You finished your breakfast, standing up and taking your dishes to the sink and washing them off, not taking your eyes off of Leah for a second, even whilst you stacked your dishes in the dishwasher.

“Sweetheart, I’m telling you right now, that if you got lucky enough to have me, then you’d be screaming my name all the same.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah, staying composed in front of the woman.

“So cocky Williamson, the self obsession really must be getting to your head.”

You sat yourself on the kitchen counter, watching as Leah washed her own dishes and loaded them up next to yours before turning to look at you. Normally Leah had a significant height advantage over you, but with the height of the counter you were sitting on you were set face-to-face with her.

“It’s not cockiness sweetheart, it’s self awareness. I’m a good lay, I’ve been told it many times by many different women, sober and not sober. You don’t have to hide behind the jealousy, you wanna go don’t you? Can’t really blame ya, everyone wants a bite.”

You rolled your eyes effortlessly at Leah, trying your very hardest to obtain all of the composure you’d held. You shoved her playfully on the shoulder, more as a warning than anything, because if she stayed in your personal space bubble much longe4 then you weren’t sure if you’d be able to uphold your facade anymore.

“It’s cute that you think I’m into you, considering you don’t even know who or what I’m into.”

Leah smirked at you, licking her lips as she reentered your personal space bubble, practically confining you to your spot on the counter, her hands placed on either side of your body, gripping onto the counter and looking at you with a little sparkle in her eyes.

“Tobs told me that you dated Sonnett, so I know that you aren’t straight and she told me that you're single, so that ticks those boxes. You dated Sonny, which means you have a thing for attractive blondes with a personality, I think I tick those boxes.”

You rolled your lips between your teeth before biting down on the bottom one, mainly for show more than anything.

“Bold of you to assume that you have a personality and you're attractive. It’s cute that you think you’ve got a shot.”

Leah smirked, toying her tongue between her teeth and rolling it between her lips.

“Don’t I?”

You knew where this was going, and it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, because you definitely were. But you also knew Leah’s reputation. She didn’t do relationships, she was a casual sex person and there was nothing wrong with that, but you weren’t interested in that. You also knew she was riding on her own endorphin high now, a mixture of post sex haze and hangover that you couldn’t trust.

“Baby, I’m not interested in casual sex, something Tobin should have told you. I liked Sonny, but she was a casual sex girl and I’m not doing that again, so you can have your fun with your walk of shame girls and I’ll have my fun, okay?”

You were mocking her a little bit, giving her a fake pout that she was clearly offended by. You hoisted yourself off of the bench before she could say much more, bounding towards the stairs and running back to your room to throw on my training gear.

The topic wasn’t brought up for a few more weeks, you let Leah bring her girls into the house at whatever time she pleased and Leah did her best to ignore the yearning that had developed in her gut for you.

It was all fine, all going well until you’d managed to get yourself injured. You’d had a really good run, becoming a starter on the team and scoring a few goals in some important games. Until a Chelsea player had taken your ankles out from under you and done some ligament damage, it wasn’t anything major, a few weeks at most, but you’d been recommended to wear a boot for the first few weeks, just to make sure you weren’t putting any unnecessary pressure on your foot. You hadn’t minded to begin with, but in a very short amount of time you became very frustrated, with the boot, with not playing soccer, with being sidelined without a definitive time to when you’d be back. You very quickly went from being the bubbly, happy teammate to being someone that the girls had to walk on eggshells around. Everyone took notice of your sudden mood change, but it was clear none of them knew exactly how to tackle it, none of them knew you all that well considering you were new to the club, besides Leah.

She’d tried approaching you a few times, at training, in the rehab centre, at home. Yet every single time you’d shut her down with some kind of false sarcasm, a laugh and the insistence you were fine. She was getting sick of it, getting sick of having to watch you repetitively deny help from anyone. Your attitude towards yourself and other people was shit and she could tell it was really affecting you.

She’d just gotten back from training one night, you’d opted out considering that you had done your rehab in the morning, using the excuse that you wanted to talk to some of your US teammates on a organised skype call. When Leah had gotten home the house was silent, something that she’d come to find abnormal since you’d moved in. There was always some background noise, the sound of the tv, or your music filling the house. Yet, when she walked through the door, slinging her bag onto one of the hooks near the door, she heard absolutely nothing.

She tiptoed through into the kitchen, her eyes searching the communal space before locating you. You were sitting on the sofa, looking down at your laptop, completely and utterly absorbed by whatever you were looking at and either purposely ignoring Leah or too enraptured by whatever was on your scream to have noticed her.

“Y/n.”

Leah’s words were enough to break you from your daze and when you turned to look at her Leah recognised the red rims that were painted along your waterline and the semi dried tear tracks on your face.

“Sorry, fuck, I was supposed to sort out dinner, give me a second and I’ll get it started.”

You were reaching for your crutches almost immediately, time having slipped away from you in Leah’s absence, Leah’s words stopped you though.

“No, don’t worry about it, we’ll order in, just stay sitting.”

Leah smiled at you, walking over towards the couch and picking up your crutches from your hands and placing them down on the floor, before sitting down on the couch beside you. She left enough space that you weren’t physically touching but stayed close enough that you could feel her presence.

“Is everything alright, Y/n?”

It was uncharted territory between the two of you, Leah had seen you upset, she’d been the one who’d had to drive the two of you home after doing your ankle and it hadn’t been pretty. But you’d never allowed her in, never allowed her to see you emotionally vulnerable besides that, and even when you’d done your ankle you’d tried your hardest to keep your composure, until you were lying in your bed that night by yourself and you let it all out. Leah could hear your sobs from the other side of the wall, just as you could hear the sound of the moans of whatever woman she’d booty called that night to help her deal with the itch in her body that came every time she had to watch her team take the pitch without her.

“Alex called, San Diego is trading me, so when my loan is over I’m going straight to Angel City. They said that they weren’t prepared to deal with ankle problems, that it’s for the best and that when the official trade period comes I’ll be gone. Angel City is going to honour my loan, until the season ends and then I have to go back home but I won’t even be going back home.”

Leah did her best to remember the basic American geography she’d learnt in highschool, trying to map out the two points on a map.

“Angel City’s based in Los Angeles isn’t it? You won’t be that far away, it’ll be a two hour drive.”

Leah’s voice fell on deaf ears, you were too busy biting down on your lip to even think about what she was saying. Because yes, technically she was right, it wasn’t like you were being traded to the other side of the country, but you’d been playing for San Diego for the whole of your senior career, it was your home, and they were just pawning you off like any other player.

“Plus, aren’t Christen, Ali and Alyssa at Angel City?”

You could feel more tears stemming in your eyes, you looked up in an attempt to conceal them, not wanting to embarrass yourself any further in front of your captain.

“Leah, you don’t get it. How would you feel if Arsenal had traded you when you’d done your ACL? San Diego has had me since I was 16. If I am going home I don’t want to go home to anywhere but there, I don’t want to have to play anywhere other than San Diego, the wave is my home, Alex is my fucking home and they are just turning me away because I’ve had some ankle problems. So what’s the point in me even putting the effort into fucking doing this recovery if even when I do it I’m going home to nothing.”

You’d left Leah a little bit speechless. She thought about it, thought deeply about putting herself in your shoes, something she’d never really done and she got what you were saying.

“So don’t go home, stay here.”

Your eyes looked at Leah, filled with something she couldn’t even try to pin down.

“Because Arsenal is really interested in having to deal with bidding for me and taking my contract. They probably want me even less than fucking San Diego does right now.”

Leah was a little bit shocked by the amount of aggression behind your words, never having seen this side of you, it hurt her heart a little bit.

“Turn around.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at Leah’s random request.

“Excuse me?”

“Turn around, back facing my chest.”

It took you a few seconds to realise she was completely serious, and hell, what did you have to lose at this stage? You did as she’d asked and jolted slightly as her hands found their way to your shoulders, starting to very gently massage into the tense skin across your back. Leah was shocked to feel the sheer amount of tension that must have built up over the past few weeks across your shoulders, clearly you’d been pushing down your feelings for a little bit too long.

“Arsenal loves you, the whole team loves you, if you wanted to stay you’d be very welcome. Ankle injury or not, if the Wave valued you, they wouldn’t have traded you, so I know it sucks but if they really valued you as a player they would keep you, they clearly don’t and you deserve better than that.”

It was unnerving to you how good Leah’s hands felt, rubbing gently across your back, slowly diffusing the mounds of knots that had developed across the surface of your back and shoulders.

“Do they teach you how to massage in adultery school?”

It was a weak joke that had Leah snickering just a little bit.

“Y’know that I’m not the heartless playgirl that everyone paints me out to be. I like sex, sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a human with functioning feelings, I still care for people, I care for you.”

Her words made you feel a little bit guilty, because you had kind of pictured her that way in your head, the woman had a girl in her bed almost every night. You couldn’t help but hear the vulnerability and honesty in her words though and you wanted to believe her words, or you wanted her to explain her words to you.

“Your hands feel good, really good.”

You could feel Leah smirking from her spot behind you on the couch.

“They’re good for more than massages.”

Her words were murmured, meant for you, not that there was anyone else in the room to hear them. At her words you were turning yourself on the couch, so you were face to face with the blonde. She was staring back at you with hooded eyes and a faint smirk on her eyes. Maybe if you hadn't been so emotional you wouldn’t have felt your breath catch in your chest as you took her in. Maybe if she hadn't been smirking at you in the ‘I dare you’ way, you wouldn’t have leant in. Maybe if she’d never gotten the opportunity to put her hands on you in the first place she never would have gotten so greedy as to have them back on you. Maybe if none of it had happened you both wouldn’t have leant in to kiss, or maybe it still would have happened.

The kiss was sweet, soft and tender. Leah pulled me gently into her lap, pulling me up and over so you were straddling her hips, giving you a little bit of leverage in the kiss.

“We can’t turn back once we do this, are you sure you want to?”

Leah’s words were murmured against your lips, as she took a little break to get her point across.

“We’ll figure it out afterwards, I just need to feel something, I need to feel loved.”

Leah’s forehead nodded against your own.

“Hold on.”

You didn’t have enough time to comprehend her words before she was hoisting you both up off the couch and towards the stairs.

“Leah, your knee.”

You murmured the words into her neck as you approached the steps, you didn’t want her to put you down but you also didn’t want her to hurt herself.

“It’s fine, I’m back in a few weeks anyways, it’s back to normal now.”

You were surprised when, with much ease Leah managed to get the both of you up the stairs without much struggle, her beelining directly towards her room. She very quickly sat the two of you down on her bed, resuming the kiss you had both previously been occupied with. Her lips were soft, everything about how she was treating you was so uncharacteristically gentle for you and you loved it, loved how she was accommodating you.

“Lee.”

Your words had Leah’s eyes cracking open quickly, a little bit of fear painted across her clear blue eyes.

“Yes, sweet?”

Her voice was so kind, practically dripping with tenderness.

“Need you to touch me, please.”

Leah smiled against my lips.

“Mm, where do you need me?”

Normally, you probably would have felt self conscious having to admit something like that, but with Leah everything felt different, you just didn’t feel the normal insecurity that came from sex.

“Fuck, pussy, please.”

Leah smirked again against your lips.

“Because you asked so nicely.”

Leah’s hands travelled down to the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging down under your ass, and once you’d hoisted yourself up, down and your right foot with ease. The left one was a little bit harder, with the moon boot and just as she’d been about to undo the velcro to remove the boot completely you stopped her.

“Just leave it, please, I just need you.”

Leah was smirking wildly at request, forgetting your sweatpant leg and letting her hand trail back up to the edge of your panties, a black lace thong that was one of your favourites. Your arms find their way over Leah’s shoulders, tangling at the back of her neck as her lips attach to your neck in synchronised harmony with her fingers finally making contact with your heat. You moan shamelessly as Leah brushed your panties to the side and works her fingers in and out of your wetness, her thumb finding its way to your clit and one of her fingers making its way down to the source of your wetness.

“So wet baby, all for me?”

Leah’s words vibrated against the skin of your neck, a place that she had busied herself with littering little marks along, trying to figure out which spot got the most sinful noises to leave your mouth.

“Fuck, yes.”

Leah smirked a little bit more, absolutely drunk off of the feeling that she had you in her arms, not some random girl that she didn’t care about.

“Mm, you feel so good sweet, can I finger your precious hole, is that something you want?”

She was hiding the question of consent in her words, something that was a major requirement for Leah, she might have been a bit of a nymphomaniac but that didn’t mean she didn’t have rules for herself, one of them was to always ask for consent.

“Fuck, please Leah, please.”

Your moans and pleads were enough consent for Leah, allowing her to very gently work one of her fingers into your pussy, slowly working in each knuckle. You were desperate though, pushing yourself down against her finger, aching for more.

“Leah.”

The word was murmured out between moans as Leah found your pulse point and bit down on it, soothing the bite with her saliva and gentle licks.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

Leah had quickly realised that you liked praise, and whatever little nicknames that she could form off the top of her head.

“More, please, harder.”

Leah bit her lip at your words, it took every bit of self control she had not to cum right there on the spot.

“So desperate baby girl, you're doing so well for me aren’t you, I think I can give you some more.”

Leah, slid another one of her fingers into your hole, when she felt no resistance she started to very gently move her fingers in and out of you, searching for that certain spot and when she had located it, gently curling her fingers against it. The sounds that left your mouth were hellish enough for even the devil to find them sinful. Leah resonated in it, bathed in the sound of your pleasure as she continued her assault of your neck.

When she could feel you beginning to clench against her fingers she placed the pad of her thumb against your clit, pushing the hood of it back to give her full access to the sensitive nub.

“Le-Leah, fuck, fuck, I’m so close.”

Leah nodded into your neck, gently brushing her finger against your spot and pumping her fingers just a little bit harder into you, elated at the way your hips met her fingers on every single thrust, your juices dripping all over Leah’s sweatpants.

“Cum whenever you're ready sweetheart, go ahead.”

It didn’t take you long, a few more swipes from Leah’s finger against your clit before you were catapulting over the edge of pleasure. Leah felt you clench tightly around her fingers and when she did he gently laid your body down against her pillows, withdrawing her fingers but replacing them with her mouth, pressing her tongue gently to your hole and coaxing you through the shakes and spasms. When you finally did come down you tried pushing Leah’s head away, frightfully aware of how sensitive you had become, but Leah continued her ministrations.

“Lee, fuck.”

You could feel your body arching up against the sheets once again, your arousal already building up again as Leah very gently laid her tongue out against your pussy. She pushed her hand up to your mouth.

“Suck.”

You obeyed her, letting her push the two fingers into your mouth and being blessed with the taste of your own pleasure against your tongue. You sucked Leah’s fingers dry as she continued to suck and lick her way across your pussy, like she was a starved woman.

“One more pretty girl, give me one more.”

Her wish was your command. You relaxed against the pillows, allowing yourself to feel every single little detail of what she was doing. You were a goner as soon as she started to suck on your clit, it was over sensitive from the previous orgasm and it didn’t take you very long to build back up to the edge again.

“Leah, fuck, Leah.”

Leah seemed to understand what you were saying, without you saying it.

“Come pretty girl, I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m here, you're safe.”

Another suck to your clit and you were done. Leah very gently lapped up your juices whilst you came down shakily from your high. Once she’d lapped it all up she clawed her way up to you, meeting you in another soft kiss, her tongue invading your mouth and giving you another taste of yourself. She collapsed down on the pillows beside you, one of her arms coming to rest around your torso as she tugged her own sweatpants off, which were now soaked in your juices.

You were spent, splayed across her pillows and Leah was certain she’d never seen a more perfect sight.

When she got up to go and fetch some supplies you groaned.

“Don’t leave me.”

Leah smiled sadly at your response, it was clear that you had been feeling alone for a while now, and now that she knew it she wasn’t going to let you feel that way, ever again.

“I’m not leaving sweet, I’m just going to fetch a few things, I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

She finished her statement by pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline, before getting up from the bed and making her way down her stairs, as fast as she could whilst staying at a safe pace.

When she returned to her bedroom you were in the exact same position, orgasm drunk, splayed across her sheets. She’d managed to retrieve your crutches, two glasses of water, a granola bar and a warm face cloth. You groaned as she got you to sit up against the pillows, she didn’t want to disturb you but she also knew there were some things that had to do, just to make sure that you felt better.

“C’mon sweet girl, take some sips of the water for me.”

You rolled your eyes at Leah, her fussing over you was something you hadn’t expected. She has tasked herself with the job of undoing your boot, removing your sweatpants and replacing them with a pair of her sleep shorts.

“More than that, the whole glass, please, and the granola bar.”

You rolled your eyes at her, you’d very discreetly tried to put the glass back down on your bedside table after taking two measly sips but Leah didn’t seem to be having a bar of it.

“Who would’ve known Leah Williamson would be such a mother hen.”

Leah looked at you, completely dead pan.

“I take aftercare very seriously, if you don’t feel safe or well then I would want you to tell me, I know what we just did wasn’t exactly intense but sex should always feel good, and if it didn’t I’d want to know.”

There was so much care in Leah’s words, and even if she was only a few years older than you, you suddenly felt like the age gap was so much bigger than that.

“Leah, I feel safe and good, you were perfect.”

She nodded, seemingly happy with your answer and returning to her task. She was so gentle with your ankle when she finally did undo the velcro, gently lifting it up and the sweatpants off of it before strapping it back into the boot and gently lifting a pair of her shorts over your ass. It was perfect and nothing that you’d imagined with Leah, you’d imagined her being cocky and showy, everything about her. But in this moment she was so vulnerable, so tender and warm and it made you feel so guilty for ever thinking anything else of her.

After she’d watched you consume the water and granola she’d seemed to become a little bit more at ease, changing quickly into a pair of sleep shorts and taking off her hoodie, substituting it for just a sports bra, so she was matching with me. After she was done getting dressed she slipped into the sheets beside you, one of her arms finding its way around your bare torso immediately, the skin on skin contact sending shivers up your spine.

“You are so loved y/n/n, here or back at home, there are so many people around that would do anything for you.”

Leah’s words were murmured into your ear as she threaded her fingers into your hair, tugging lightly on the hairs at the nape of your neck.

“M’ sorry that you didn’t get anything in return.”

Leah shushed you as soon as the words left your mouth.

“Hush, I don’t need anything, knowing that you felt good is all I need.”

There was so much sincerity in her words that it made you crumble just a little bit.

“You're not a heartless playgirl bitch and I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I thought of you that way. You are fucking perfect and just as good as you had said.”

Leah laughed a little bit from her spot behind you, the warmth of her breath against your neck making the hairs along your body stand up.

“I’m not too bad, huh?”

You flipped over in the bed, so you were face to face with her.

“I don’t want to be one of your one night stands who’s name you forget.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but when she realised the genuinity behind your words her eyes softened.

“Good, because I don’t want that either, y/n Williamson sounds pretty good, if you ask me.”

You snorted effortlessly at her.

“Wow a proposal on night one, do you do that to all of your bedmates to charm them, Williamson?”

Leah smirked, pressing her lips to your own.

“No, I think you’d have to be the first, what did you say about endorphins again, they must be getting to my head or something.”

You leaned in to stop her stupid babbling, pressing your lips to hers to silence her.

“I’ll never forget your name and I’m never letting you feel alone again, I promise.”

You smiled against her lips, so tied up in the serenity you were feeling, the peace away from everything that was going on in your life.

“I could never feel alone when I’m with you Leah Williamson.”

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