#your voice is really calming and cozy vibes >.<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jupiterpilgrim]

Sex Cage: Big Breasts and the Ordinary Modern Life

Eunbi x Somi x male reader

word count: 12K

previous chapter

Eunbi’s room is decked out like a gamer’s fever dream now. The RGB lights are set up just right, throwing a chill neon glow around, lighting up her face a bit. She’s parked in her plush gaming chair, legs tucked under, hunched over the mic. She’s rocking a baggy gray sweatshirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, showing a peek of her white tank top, and some soft black shorts. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, a couple strands hanging loose around her face. The camera’s got her in frame, the ring light smoothing out the hype written all over her expression. On-screen, “Rubydden’s Realm” overlays the corner of the stream—a hastily made, slightly clunky logo she insisted on designing herself. Below it, a scrolling bar reads, “First-ever stream! Let’s see if I survive TLOU!”

Her hands grip the controller nervously as the familiar PlayStation startup chime fades. The chat explodes before she even gets to the main menu.

StarGazer48: OMG, first stream vibes!!!

ButterflyEffect: She’s so cute 😭

ClickClackJack: Does she even know what’s coming??

MossyUnderwear: If she doesn’t cry at the start, she’s a robot.

"Wow! Okay, okay, hold on, chat!" Eunbi laughs, her voice carrying that particular mix of giddiness and terror. She leans forward, squinting at the second monitor to keep up with the flood of comments. “First of all, hi, everyone! Thank you for showing up… I thought there would be like… five people?"

She glances toward you, sitting just off-camera, as if for reassurance. You flash her a thumbs-up, silently mouthing, “You’ve got this.”

Her nervous laugh lingers as she picks up the controller, her fingers already fumbling with the buttons. “So, here’s the deal. This is my first-ever stream, obviously. And we’re starting with The Last of Us because… well, apparently, it’s a classic, and I don’t know much about it other than… it’s supposed to be really dramatic?” She draws out the last word like it’s a question, her doe eyes widening.

The chat erupts again:

GameDork98: Oh, honey, you have NO idea.

HatGuy69: She’s gonna cry in the first 15 minutes, guaranteed.

EllieLuv: Protect Ellie at all costs 😭

"Wait, what? Cry?!” Eunbi’s head jerks up, her gaze darting to the chat. “Nobody said anything about crying! This is just… an apocalypse thing, right? Like zombies and stuff?” Her voice rises an octave as she tries to sound calm.

The game menu appears, the soundtrack's desolate guitar fills Eunbi's ears through headphones. She adjusts in her seat, pulling the hoodie tighter around her like armor. “Alright, alright. I’m not scared. I got this. I mean, if I can handle weird requests in my DMs, I can handle… this… scary music…”

She navigates to “New Game,” as the opening cinematic begins, her expression shifts from nervous to curious. “Oh, wow. The graphics are pretty good. Look at this house! So cozy—oh no, is this where the drama starts?”

The chat explodes with laughter, cryptic emojis, and ominous hints.

ClickClackJack: This is the calm before the storm.

CryingAlpaca: Everyone, place your bets. Does she cry in 5 minutes or 10?

Eunbi leans closer, totally engrossed in Sarah wandering through the house. “Aw, this kid is so cute. Wait—she’s the main character, right?”

The chat collectively groans.

DadJokes24: Oh, sweet summer child…

“Wait, wait! Why are you guys groaning?!” she exclaims, pausing the game, eyes darting to the chat. “Don’t tell me! No spoilers, okay? Let me be innocent and enjoy this!”

She presses play again, her lips pursed as she concentrates. The moment Joel bursts through the door, Eunbi squeals in surprise. “Oh my god, what’s happening?!”

As the chaos unfolds—the infected neighbor, the car chase—she grips the controller so tightly her knuckles whiten. “THIS IS NOT ZOMBIE STUFF! WHY IS EVERYTHING EXPLODING?!”

DoomBoom: Chat, she’s losing it. This is GOLD.

NoContextGary: Just wait until the emotional sucker punch.

When the gut-wrenching scene with Joel and Sarah hits, Eunbi falls silent. Her eyes stay glued to the screen as her mouth drops open slightly. The soft sound of a sob escapes her lips as the scene fades to black, and she quickly wipes her eyes with her sleeve, laughing awkwardly. “Okay. Fine. You win. I cried. Are you happy now?”

CryingAlpaca: 16 minutes. I called it.

EllieLuv: And that's just the fucking prologue!!

ClipThis: Clip it, chat!

Eunbi sits back, letting out a shaky breath. “I need a second. That was brutal. And you guys… you knew. This whole time, you knew!” She waves a finger at the camera, mock-accusingly.

Her laughter turns genuine as she takes a sip from her water bottle, holding it dramatically like an Oscar. “Alright, let’s keep going. But if the game keeps hitting me like that, I might need therapy. And snacks. Definitely snacks.”

The chat goes wild with love and teasing, and Eunbi seems to relax, her natural charm shining through. When you see that she has everything under control, you sneak out of the room to let her focus on the game. She adjusts her hoodie, leans into the mic, and smirks at the camera. “Okay, chat. Let’s see what other heartbreaks you’ve got lined up for me. Bring it on.”

—

The stream winds down with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion radiating from Eunbi. The game’s pause menu glows on the screen as she swivels her chair toward the camera, resting her chin in her hands with a bright, satisfied smile.

“Alright, chat. That’s it for today!” she announces, her voice warm and a little hoarse from three hours of near-constant talking. “I can’t believe we actually survived this far… well, mostly. Let’s just ignore all the times I accidentally ran straight into danger, okay? You guys are seriously the best for sticking with me through that chaos.”

The chat explodes with a flurry of messages:

StarGazer48: BEST STREAM EVER!

ButterflyEffect: You were so much fun, Ruby! Can’t wait for Friday!

ClickClackJack: First stream? Nah, you’re a natural.

RubyFan326: She’s learning fast chat, we stan a chaotic queen!!

Eunbi beams, hugging her knees to her chest like she can’t contain her excitement. “You’re all making me blush. Seriously, thank you for hanging out with me. I’m back Friday at 7 PM—mark your calendars, okay? Same game, same chaos, but hopefully with fewer ‘oops I died’ moments.” She flashes a cheeky grin and winks at the camera.

“And don’t forget to follow if you haven’t already! I mean, unless you hate fun. In that case… I don’t know what to tell you.” She laughs, leaning back in her chair and making finger guns at the screen.

The chat fills with emotes and farewells, hearts and inside jokes from the stream.

MossyUnderwear: WE LOVE YOU, RUBYDDEN!

DadJokes24: Don’t forget snacks for next time!

MovieBuff88: Stream was fire 🔥. See you Friday!

Eunbi waves a final time, her smile stretching wide and genuine. “Bye, guys! See you Friday! Be good, okay?” She clicks the “End Stream” button, the chat disappearing into a frozen feed of her grinning face.

The room falls silent except for the faint hum of her PC. Eunbi leans back, letting out a long, breathy laugh, hands pressed to her cheeks. “Oh my god… that was insane,” she mutters to herself, still buzzing.

Without a second thought, she bolts from her chair, nearly tripping over the cord of her headset. She sprints to your room, throwing the door open with the force of a hurricane.

“BABE!” she screams, launching herself onto the bed where you’re sprawled out, scrolling on your phone.

“Jesus!” you exclaim, startled, but there’s no time to process because Eunbi is already on top of you, straddling your waist and peppering your face with a barrage of kisses.

“Did you see that?!” she babbles between kisses, her words tumbling out like they’re fighting for first place. “They loved me! They actually loved me! The chat was so sweet, and everyone was so funny, and I didn’t even cry that much, right? Okay, maybe a little, but that was the game’s fault, not mine!”

You laugh, hands instinctively finding her waist as you steady her. “Slow down, babe! I can barely understand you!”

She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “I can’t slow down! I’m too excited! It went so much better than I thought it would, and they were so nice, and I didn’t mess up too badly, right?”

“Are you kidding me? You killed it,” you assure her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You were funny, adorable, and totally yourself. No wonder they loved you.”

Her grin widens, and she dives back in, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips—anywhere she can reach. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” she teases, but her voice is thick with happiness.

“Maybe,” you admit, catching her face in your hands to slow her down and plant a proper kiss on her lips. “But I’m also right. You were amazing.”

She melts into the kiss for a moment before pulling back, practically vibrating with energy. “I have so many ideas for Friday! Like, maybe I can do a snack tier list during breaks? Oh, and I should definitely figure out how to make those pop-up notifications cooler—like, fireworks or something every time someone subscribes!”

You laugh, letting her ramble, loving every second of seeing her this happy. “Whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. I’ll help you set it up.”

“Ugh, you’re the best,” she says, flopping down beside you, her head resting on your chest. She’s still buzzing, her fingers drumming lightly against your ribs. “This was the best day. I didn’t think I’d love streaming this much, but it’s so fun! And everyone was so nice! Did I already say that?!”

“Only like ten times,” you tease, wrapping an arm around her.

“Well, it’s true!” she says, tilting her head to look up at you, her smile softening. “Thanks for believing in me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Always,” you say, pressing a kiss to her temple. The two of you lie there in a comfortable silence, her excitement slowly giving way to contentment as she curls closer to you.

—

The gym is quite crowded today. The faint scent of rubber mats and sweat hangs in the air, but it’s far from unpleasant—it’s the smell of effort! Eunbi and Somi stand by the dumbbell rack, mid-chat, stretching in between sets.

Eunbi’s dressed in a black sports bra and high-waisted lavender leggings that hug her figure, her small waist accentuated by the snug fit. Her hair’s tied up in a messy ponytail, a few strands already sticking to her forehead from the light sheen of sweat. Beside her, Somi towers, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek braid that sways with every movement. She’s wearing a cropped white tank top, leaving her toned stomach exposed, paired with tight, navy blue biker shorts. The cut of her tank makes her generous chest all the more noticeable, matching Eunbi’s proportions, but on a taller frame.

“You really crushed that stream, Eunbi,” Somi says as she adjusts her stance for a set of squats. She picks up a kettlebell, testing its weight. “Three hours and you still looked fresh by the end? You’re a beast.”

Eunbi laughs, grabbing a smaller kettlebell for herself. “Fresh? More like barely holding it together.”

“Yeah, but that’s part of your charm,” Somi teases, dropping into her squat. Her form is flawless, back straight, glutes engaging as she lowers herself smoothly. “You’re just… you. And people love that. They eat it up.”

Eunbi mimics the movement beside her, her squat not quite as smooth but serviceable. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. But the chat was so supportive… like, weirdly supportive? I half-expected trolls, but they were sweet.” She pauses, glancing at Somi with a grin. “Kind of like you, always hyping me up.”

Somi straightens, laughing as she rests the kettlebell against her hip. “Of course I’m hyping you up. You’re killing it, Eunbi. You deserve all of it—the success, the love. And let’s not forget about your boyfriend. I swear, he’s like… the blueprint for ‘sweet and supportive.’”

Eunbi rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “Yeah, he’s pretty great. You should’ve seen him after the stream. I practically tackled him with excitement, and he just took it like a champ.”

Somi smirks, switching to lateral raises with a pair of dumbbells. “I bet. He’s head over heels for you—it’s obvious. You lucked out, girl.” She glances at Eunbi out of the corner of her eye. “And he’s cute. Just saying.”

Eunbi snorts, picking up her own weights and joining in on the raises. “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego’s big enough already.”

“Mm, doubt it. He seems too grounded for that,” Somi says, her voice casual but carrying a playful undertone. She pauses, lowering the dumbbells. “But seriously, Eunbi… I’m glad you’ve got someone like him in your corner. Relationships are hard enough without the added… unique challenges of your job.”

Eunbi sets the weights down, exhaling as she stretches her arms over her head. “Yeah. It’s not always easy, but we make it work. Honestly, he’s been a lifesaver. I don’t think I could do this without him.”

Somi’s expression softens, and she leans against the rack, studying Eunbi for a moment. “You’re lucky. But so is he. You’ve always been brave, you know? Even when you first started… this whole thing, you owned it. And look where you are now.”

Eunbi chuckles, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone. “I don’t know if I’d call it brave. More like… desperate with a side of cluelessness.”

“Stop it.” Somi nudges her shoulder with a laugh. “You’ve got guts, and I respect that. Honestly, it’s inspiring. And maybe… I’ve been thinking about trying it, too.”

Eunbi freezes mid-stretch, blinking at Somi. “Wait. What?”

Somi shrugs, her braid bouncing. “Not, like, diving headfirst or anything. But I’ve been curious. You make it look fun. Plus…” She hesitates, glancing at Eunbi with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You and your boyfriend are both… ridiculously attractive. Just throwing that out there.”

Eunbi bursts out laughing, bending over to catch her breath. “Oh my god, Somi. Are you serious right now?”

“What?” Somi grins, unrepentant. “I’m just saying. If you ever wanted to collaborate… you know I’m game.”

Eunbi straightens, still laughing but with a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. “You’re insane. But I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Somi winks, picking up her dumbbells again. “You do that, princess. Now, come on. We’ve got one more set to crush.”

The two of them dive back into their workout, the conversation hanging in the air like a secret they’re both in on. It’s become routine now—Eunbi and Somi hitting the gym together, sweating it out between sets, always slipping into these raw, intimate talks where the masks drop. They’re best friends, no bullshit, just two girls who get each other completely. The gym’s their safe zone, a sweaty, clangy haven where they can flex their muscles and their honesty, laughing about life, love, and whatever wild ideas Somi’s cooking up next—no judgment, just vibes.

—

The door bursts open, and Eunbi and Somi stumble in, laughing so hard they’re practically leaning on each other for support. Both are flushed from the workout, faces glowing and slightly damp, strands of hair sticking to their foreheads. Eunbi kicks off her sneakers near the door without looking, while Somi collapses onto the couch, her braid swaying as she falls back with a dramatic groan.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the coffee table, a damp cloth in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. The faint scent of citrus cleaner fills the room. You glance up, eyebrows raised, as the two whirlwind into the apartment like they were in a park.

“Well, look at you,” Somi says with a teasing grin, sitting up and gesturing toward you with a lazy wave of her hand. “The perfect house boyfriend. Cleaning up while we’re out breaking a sweat. It’s adorable, really.”

Eunbi, still giggling, grabs a water bottle from the counter and takes a long sip before pointing at you with mock sternness. “Seriously, babe. You’re making the rest of us look bad. Stop being so domestic—it’s embarrassing.”

You straighten, crossing your arms, cloth dangling from one hand. “Excuse me for trying to keep this place from becoming a pigsty. Somebody’s got to do it.”

Somi leans forward, her elbow resting on her knee, and gives you a sly look. “Somebody’s gotta earn that ‘house boyfriend’ title, huh?”

Eunbi snickers, joining in as she sets her water bottle down. “He’s good at it, though. I should get him an apron.”

“I draw the line at aprons,” you deadpan, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your tone.

The laughter dies down, but there’s something in the air now—a faint charge, like static before a storm. You catch a glance between Eunbi and Somi, quick and loaded, followed by matching smirks. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” Eunbi says, her tone light but her face too innocent. She grabs Somi by the arm, dragging her toward the kitchen. “Come on, let’s make a snack before this ‘house boyfriend’ kicks us out for dripping sweat everywhere.”

You watch them disappear into the kitchen, your gaze lingering as they start pulling things from the fridge. There’s something about the way they move around each other, the subtle touches and shared grins. You shake your head, trying to dismiss it, but the thought sticks.

As you finish wiping the table, you hear Eunbi’s voice, quiet but not quiet enough to miss.

“So, should I tell him, or do you want to?”

Somi laughs. “Oh, I think you should warm him up first. Wouldn’t want to scare him off.”

Now you’re curious—and a little uneasy. You toss the cloth and spray bottle onto the counter and make your way toward the kitchen.

Eunbi’s standing by the cutting board, slicing apples, while Somi leans against the counter, munching on a carrot stick like it’s a cigarette. They both glance up when you walk in, and there’s that same look between them again.

“Alright,” you say, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

Eunbi pauses mid-slice, looking at Somi for a beat before turning to you with a sheepish smile. “Okay, so… Somi said something interesting at the gym.”

“Interesting how?”

Eunbi sets down the knife and crosses her arms, mirroring your stance. “She said she might want to… collaborate with us. Like, on a video.”

“She wants what?”

Somi steps in, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “I mean, no pressure or anything. I just thought… you two are obviously comfortable with this stuff, and I’ve been curious. Plus…” She shrugs, flashing you a playful grin. “You’re cute. She’s cute. It seemed like a no-brainer.”

You blink, your mind scrambling to process this new development. “Uh… Somi, you’re… a friend. This is kind of… unexpected.”

Somi laughs, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “Oh, I get it. It’s weird, right? But hey, Yujin wasn’t exactly a stranger, was she?”

“That’s… different,” you say, struggling to find the words.

“Why? Because I know you better?” Somi steps closer, her smile softening. “Look, I’m not saying you have to decide right now. Just… consider it, okay?”

Before you can respond, she leans in, planting a quick kiss on Eunbi’s cheek, then yours. It’s light, playful, and far more disarming than it has any right to be.

Eunbi’s face lights up, a mix of amusement and something more as she watches your reaction. “Wow,” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like someone’s had their eye on us, huh?”

Somi winks, grabbing an apple slice from the cutting board. “What can I say? You two are hard to ignore.”

Eunbi laughs, her hand brushing yours as she reaches for another apple slice. “Well, babe, what do you think? Somi’s always been bold, but this might be her boldest move yet.”

You glance between them, the weight of their playful smiles making your head spin. “I… think I need to sit down,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck.

Somi’s laugh rings out, warm and teasing. “Take your time, house boyfriend. No rush. I’ll just… let that idea simmer for a bit.”

Eunbi grins, handing you an apple slice like it’s a peace offering. “Welcome to my world, babe. It’s never boring.”

You take the apple, biting into it as you watch the two of them exchange another loaded look.

Never boring, indeed.

—

Eunbi starts planting the idea subtly, like she’s threading a needle through the gaps in your resolve, pulling the thread just tight enough to make you notice but not enough to make you pull away. It starts with offhand comments, playful teases wrapped in casual conversation.

“You know,” she muses one night, sprawled out on your chest while idly scrolling through her phone, “Somi’s got this unreal body. Like, actually unfair.”

You glance down at her, raising a brow. “And this is relevant to me because…?”

She tilts her head up, lips twitching with amusement. “Because you have eyes? And also because I know you like a nice tight ass, and hers is—well, come on.” She flicks her screen, and suddenly, she’s holding it up to you, a picture of Somi in a tiny bikini dominating the screen. The straps are minimal, the fit snug, every curve accentuated by the sun-kissed glow of her skin, especially the cleavage of her breasts—god, those breasts...

You swallow. Hard.

“Okay,” you admit, trying to play it cool. “She’s hot. What’s your point?”

Eunbi grins, sensing the crack in your composure. She flips to another picture—this time, one of her and Somi at the gym, both clad in skin-tight leggings that leave little to the imagination. Somi’s in navy blue, Eunbi in lavender, their toned legs and hips pressed close together as they pose in the mirror.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. Eunbi notices.

“My point,” she continues, voice smooth as silk, “is that we’d look good together. Don’t you think?”

You exhale, pressing your head back against the pillow. “I think you like messing with me.”

She laughs, her breath warm against your collarbone as she shifts, draping herself over you like a cat basking in its favorite spot. “Obviously. But I also know you. And I know you’ve thought about it.”

Your silence is answer enough.

Eunbi doesn’t rush you—she never does. She lets the idea marinate, simmering on the edges of your thoughts, dropping little breadcrumbs every so often. A comment here, a lingering glance there. One night, she casually asks, “Wasn’t it fun with Yujin?” as she trails kisses down your neck. Another time, she accidentally leaves her phone unlocked on the bed, a chat with Somi open—Somi, who’s sent a winking selfie captioned, “So when are we making this happen? 😘”

You pretend not to see it.

But pretending doesn’t stop the thoughts. It doesn’t stop the way you start noticing Somi more—the way her tank tops ride up when she stretches, exposing that sliver of taut stomach. The way she playfully bumps your shoulder when she walks past, always just a little too close. The way her laughter lingers a second longer when she catches you watching her.

Then comes the night Eunbi corners you—figuratively, of course. She’s sitting in your lap, straddling you, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your shoulders.

“Babe,” she murmurs, lips inches from yours, “are you really gonna make me beg?”

You exhale slowly, hands gripping her waist. “This is crazy.”

She tilts her head. “Is it? You trust me, don’t you?”

That question hangs between you, heavier than the warmth of her body against yours. Of course, you trust her. That was never the issue. The issue was the part of you that already knew where this was heading.

You take a breath, slow and measured, but the weight of Eunbi’s gaze makes it feel shallow, like there’s not enough air in the room. She’s watching you, waiting, her fingers still tracing those absentminded patterns along your shoulders, nails just barely grazing your skin.

And then, finally, you exhale.

“…Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

Eunbi’s lips curl into something victorious, but not smug—no, this is softer, warmer. She cradles your face in her hands, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as she studies you like she’s memorizing this moment.

“See?” she murmurs. “That wasn’t so hard.”

You huff out a laugh. “Says the woman who spent weeks working me over.”

She grins, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy it.”

Your grip on her waist tightens slightly, enough for her to notice, enough for her to smirk as she leans in again, lips barely brushing yours as she whispers, “It’s gonna be fun.”

—

So the day finally arrives.

You're in your room, eyes glued to the laptop screen, hunched over the desk, a spreadsheet open, cells filled with numbers that look like they’re mocking you with their sheer volume. Eunbi’s earnings have skyrocketed since she started streaming, and between that and her other content, the bank account has become a lot healthier than you ever expected. It’s great—amazing, really—but it’s also overwhelming.

You mutter under your breath, adjusting a formula that doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Managing finances was never something you planned on doing full-time, but here you are, crunching numbers like you’re auditioning for an accountant job you don’t want.

The faint sound of Eunbi’s voice filters in from the living room, energetic and full of life as she wraps up another stream. You smile, proud of her. She’s thriving, and you love helping her behind the scenes, but… there’s still that nagging feeling. The one that whispers you’re not doing enough, even though she’s insisted a million times that you’re her rock, her partner, her everything.

Before you can spiral too deep into your thoughts, the door swings open with zero warning, and in walks Somi. No knock, no announcement—just an entrance like she owns the place. Her damp braided blonde hair clings to her shoulders, and she’s wearing what you generously call pajamas: a loose tank top that barely clings to her chest and shorts so tiny they might as well be a suggestion rather than clothing.

“Hey, house boyfriend,” she says, flopping onto the bed like a cat claiming territory. “What’s got you all serious in here?”

You glance up, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on the way her tank top shifts as she settles in. “Numbers. Money stuff. Trying to figure out what to do with all this cash Eunbi’s making.”

Somi tilts her head, propping herself up on one elbow. “Ooh, let me guess. She’s still hopeless with money?”

“Completely,” you reply, smirking despite yourself. “She tried to tell me her budget was ‘don’t buy anything unless it’s on sale.’”

Somi bursts out laughing. “Classic Eunbi. So what’s the plan? Stash it under the mattress? Blow it all on RGB lights?”

“Ha. Ha,” you say dryly, gesturing at the screen. “I was thinking investments. Something stable but with a decent return. Problem is, I’m stuck on this formula, and Google’s no help.”

She hops off the bed and strides over, peering over your shoulder. “Let me see.”

You lean back, letting her get a closer look. Her proximity is… distracting. The scent of her shampoo, light and floral, drifts into your space, and her damp hair brushes your arm as she leans in.

“Ah, I see the problem,” she says. “You’re trying to calculate compound interest on a rolling deposit. You need to nest the formula differently.”

You blink. “How do you even know that?”

Somi grins, tapping her temple. “Numbers are my thing. Did Eunbi ever tell you that I made money in high school by doing other students' math homework?”

“No, but now it makes sense why you’re so annoyingly good at everything,” you say, shifting to let her take the keyboard.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she quips, typing away with swift, assured keystrokes. Within seconds, the formula is fixed, and the numbers fall into place like obedient soldiers.

“There. Problem solved,” she says, stepping back with a flourish.

You stare at the screen, genuinely impressed. “Okay, that’s actually amazing. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “So, what are we investing in? Stocks? Crypto? A small island in the Caribbean?”

“Let’s start with something less risky, like index funds. We can work our way up to the private island.”

Somi nods sagely. “Smart. And when you get the island, don’t forget who helped you make the down payment.”

“Noted,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

She plops back onto the bed, stretching out like she’s lived here her whole life.

“So,” she says, her voice teasing, “you ready for tonight?”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. “I guess? Still wrapping my head around it, to be honest.”

“Relax,” she says, her tone softening. “It’s just us. Nothing’s going to change. I’m still Somi, Eunbi’s still Eunbi, and you’re still… well, house boyfriend.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mutter, but there’s a faint smile on your lips.

She sits up, her expression unusually earnest. “I mean it. You don’t have to overthink this. We’re friends first, okay? The rest is just… extra.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks, Somi.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, standing and stretching, her arms reaching above her head. She catches your gaze for a moment, a playful glint in her eye. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to raid your fridge. Got to fuel up for the big night.”

She saunters out, leaving the faint scent of her shampoo behind. You exhale, staring at the now-organized spreadsheet. Somi might be right about not overthinking, but something tells you this night is going to be anything but ordinary.

The hours pass and you’re sprawled out in your room when the door swings open with that familiar creak. Eunbi struts in, and fuck, she’s got that look—like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Her oversized hoodie’s slipping off one shoulder like always, showing off that thin strap of her tank top, and those soft black shorts are riding up just enough to make your brain short-circuit. She’s got this sultry little smirk, all suggestive and playful, as she leans against the doorframe. “Everything’s set for the recording,” she says, like she’s dangling something you can’t resist. You push yourself up from the chair, stretching a little, but there’s this hesitant buzz in your chest—like you’re excited but still wrapping your head around what’s about to go down. “How’d the stream go?” you ask, scratching the back of your neck, trying to play it cool. She lights up, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my god, it was awesome. Chat was hyped, I had a blast, and The Last of Us? I’m obsessed. Joel’s breaking my heart every five minutes.” Her energy’s infectious, and you can’t help but grin—she’s killing it, and you’re genuinely stoked for her. She steps closer, grabs your face with both hands, and plants a soft, quick kiss on your lips. “You okay, babe?” she asks, tilting her head, those big eyes searching yours. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, nodding, and it’s true, even if your pulse is kicking up a notch. She flashes you that smile that always melts you, grabs your hand, and tugs you toward her room like she’s on a mission.

You follow her down the hall, her fingers laced with yours, and when you step into her space, it’s like walking into a different world. The RGB lights are dialed up, casting a soft purple-red glow over everything, and her streaming setup’s still warm from earlier. Somi’s perched on a stool by the desk, finishing her makeup, a little compact mirror in one hand and a fluffy brush in the other. She’s still rocking that barely-there tank top, the fabric stretched tight over her chest, and those tiny shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Her blonde hair’s loose now, falling over her shoulders in messy waves, and when she spots you, her face lights up like she’s been waiting for this all day. “There’s our star,” she says, tossing the brush down and hopping off the stool, all long legs and confidence. You give her a half-smile, feeling the air shift—thicker, heavier with whatever’s about to happen. You head over to the camera on its tripod, double-checking the battery. Green light’s solid—plenty of juice. Everything’s good to go, and you drop onto the edge of the mattress, rubbing your hands on your jeans, trying to shake off that nervous edge.

Eunbi doesn’t waste a second—she slides right onto your lap, straddling you, her thighs pressing against your hips. The weight of her feels so fucking good, familiar but electric with the vibe in the room. Somi plops down next to you, close enough that her bare knee brushes yours, and she leans in with this sly little grin. “Alright, let’s break the ice,” she says. Before you can even process it, Eunbi turns her head, grabs Somi by the neck, and pulls her into a kiss. Holy shit—it’s hot. Like, instantly hot. They’re both gorgeous, lips soft and glossy, moving against each other like they’ve done this a million times, even though you know they’re just good friends pushing boundaries. Eunbi’s hands slide up Somi’s arms, then cup her massive tits through that flimsy tank top, squeezing just enough to make Somi moan into her mouth—a low, needy sound that hits you right in the gut. You can see Somi’s nipples hardening, poking through the fabric, and your jeans are getting tight as hell. Your cock’s waking up fast, straining against the zipper, and you shift a little under Eunbi, trying to play it off, but she’s gotta feel it.

Somi’s not holding back either—her hands slip under Eunbi’s hoodie, pushing it up to expose the smooth curve of her waist and the edge of her tank top. She grabs Eunbi’s tits, thumbs brushing over where her nipples are probably hard as fuck under the layers, and Eunbi lets out this breathy little gasp that makes your head spin. The hoodie’s bunched up now, showing off her flat stomach, and the way they’re groping each other is straight-up pornographic—except it’s real, and it’s happening two feet from you. They break the kiss, both of them flushed, lips shiny with spit, and Eunbi turns to you, cheeks pink, eyes dark. “What’d you think, babe?” she asks, voice all husky. You swallow hard, throat dry as fuck. “Yeah, uh, I liked it,” you manage, and she smirks, shifting her hips just enough to grind against your boner. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and that smile says she’s loving every second of it.

Then Somi leans in, her hand resting on your thigh—way too close to your dick—and says, “My turn.” Before you can even think, her lips are on yours, soft and warm and tasting faintly of cherry lip gloss. You’re so fucking horny it’s ridiculous, and you kiss her back harder than you mean to, tongue slipping into her mouth, hands grabbing her waist on instinct. She’s pressing herself against you, her tits squished against your chest, and it’s like every nerve in your body’s on fire. Eunbi’s still on your lap, watching with this mesmerized, horny-as-hell look, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Somi pulls back, breathing fast, and you’re both a little wrecked—her hair’s a mess from your fingers, and you’re pretty sure your brain’s offline. Eunbi’s voice cuts through the haze, soft and teasing. “So? What’d you think of that?” You’re panting a little, cock throbbing under her weight. “Fuck, I liked it,” you say, and she giggles, leaning in to give you a quick, sloppy kiss—more tongue than necessary, like she’s staking her claim.

She slides off your lap, adjusting her hoodie, and claps her hands together. “Alright, we’re ready to start filming,” she says, all business now, but her eyes are still gleaming with lust. Somi’s smirking, wiping a smudge of gloss from the corner of her mouth, and you’re just sitting there, hard as a rock, trying to catch your breath.

Eunbi’s got that glint in her eye as she picks up the camera from the tripod, her fingers brushing yours as she hands it over. “You’re on POV duty, babe,” she says. The weight of the camera settles in your hands, solid and real, and you adjust your grip, already picturing how this is gonna look through the lens. Somi’s rummaging through the little box of props by the desk, pulling out this old black masquerade mask—the one Eunbi used to wear back when she was still anonymous. Somi slips it over her eyes, the elastic snapping into place, and it’s just these two thin straps of fabric cutting across her face, leaving her mouth and jaw exposed. The way it frames her cheekbones and makes her lips pop is unreal. Eunbi steps back, tilting her head to check her out, and grins. “Fuck, you look sexy as hell like that,” she says, all casual like she’s complimenting Somi’s gym outfit or something. Somi strikes a little pose, popping her hip, and smirks. “Yeah? Good, ‘cause I’m ready to fuck shit up.”

You adjust yourself on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, the mattress dipping under your weight. The camera’s in your hands, lens pointed down at your lap for now, and you can feel your pulse hammering in your throat. “Alright, I’m gonna start recording,” you say, thumb hovering over the button. Your voice comes out steadier than you feel, which is a minor miracle. You hit record, and the little red light blinks on. Eunbi and Somi drop to their knees between your legs, smooth and synced like they’ve rehearsed this shit. The carpet’s soft under their knees, and the RGB lights paint their skin in shifting hues—purple bleeding into red, then blue. Eunbi’s hoodie’s still bunched up from earlier, showing off that sliver of her stomach, and Somi’s tank top is clinging to her curves, the mask giving her this mysterious, badass vibe. You angle the camera down, framing them just right, their faces filling the shot.

Eunbi kicks things off, leaning into the mic moment like she’s still streaming to her chat. “Hey, everyone,” she says, all bright and charismatic, her voice slipping into that flirty, playful tone she’s perfected. “Got a special treat for you tonight. Say hi to my gorgeous friend here—she’s joining us for some fun.” She gestures at Somi, who flashes a wicked grin, lips glossy and parted. “Hey, y’all,” Somi says, her voice low and raspy, dripping with excitement. “I’m fucking pumped to be here—let’s make it a good one.” She doesn’t say her name, obviously—Eunbi’s keeping it vague, letting the mask and the vibe do the talking. The camera catches every detail: the way Eunbi’s hair falls messily over her shoulders, the slight sheen of sweat on Somi’s collarbone, the way their knees press into the carpet as they shift closer to you.

Eunbi’s hands move first, reaching for your belt with this practiced ease. The metal clinks as she unbuckles it, her fingers brushing your stomach through your shirt, sending a jolt straight to your dick. Somi’s right there with her, tugging at the button of your jeans, popping it open with a little flick. “Teamwork makes the dream work,” Somi mutters under her breath, and Eunbi snickers, the sound all throaty and real. They yank your jeans down together, a little rougher than necessary, the denim scraping against your thighs as it slides off. Your boxers go next—Somi hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls, slow and deliberate, like she’s unwrapping something she’s been dying to see. Your cock springs free, already half-hard from all the buildup, and the air feels cool against your skin for about two seconds before their eyes lock on it.

Somi lets out this low whistle, leaning in closer, the mask making her look like some sexy bandit sizing up her prize. “Holy shit, dude,” she says, voice full of awe. “This thing’s even bigger in real life. The videos don’t do it justice.” Eunbi smirks, proud as hell, like she’s showing off her favorite toy. “Told you he’s packing,” she says to Somi, then glances up at you through the lens, winking. Your grip on the camera tightens, trying to keep it steady as they both reach out. Eunbi’s hand wraps around the base, her fingers warm and firm, while Somi’s slides up the side, her touch lighter, almost teasing. They stroke you together, not hard, just enough to make your breath hitch. The sensation’s fucking wild—two different rhythms, two different grips, and you’re already fighting to keep your shit together.

Eunbi leans in first, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, slow and wet, leaving a shiny trail that catches the light. She’s got this way of flicking her tongue that’s pure torture, and you angle the camera down to catch it—her lips hovering, her eyes flicking up at you through her lashes. Somi’s watching her like she’s taking notes, then dives in on the other side, her lips brushing the shaft, soft and sloppy. Her mask shifts a little as she moves, but it stays put, the black fabric stark against her flushed cheeks. They’re working you together now, mouths sliding over your cock like they’re sharing a goddamn meal. Eunbi’s sucking lightly on the head, her cheeks hollowing out, while Somi’s tongue traces a slow, lazy line up the side, her breath hot against your skin. You groan low in your throat, the sound rumbling out before you can stop it, and Eunbi hums in response, the vibration hitting hard.

Somi pulls back for a sec, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning like a kid who just stole candy. “This is fun as hell,” she says, voice all husky, then dives back in, her lips wrapping around the middle while Eunbi works the tip. They’re trading off, syncing up without even trying—Eunbi’s hand stays at the base, pumping slow and steady, while Somi’s tongue swirls around the shaft, messy and wet. Spit’s starting to drip, pooling on the carpet between your legs, and you can hear it—the slick, sloppy sounds mixing with their little gasps and moans. The camera’s catching everything: the way Eunbi’s hair sticks to her neck, the way Somi’s tank top rides up, showing off the curve of her hips, the way your cock glistens under the lights, slick with their spit.

Eunbi pulls off, her lips shiny, and looks up at you—or the camera, really—grinning like she knows she’s driving you insane. “Having fun up there, babe?” she asks, all coy, her hand still stroking you, keeping the pressure just right. Somi doesn’t stop, her mouth sliding lower, kissing and sucking along the base, her mask slipping a tiny bit and you catch a flash of her eyes—dark, wild, loving every second of this. You grunt out a “Fuck yeah,” voice rougher than you mean it to be, and they both laugh, the sound muffled against your skin. Eunbi leans back in, her tongue flattening against the underside, dragging up slow and deliberate, while Somi’s lips meet hers at the top, their mouths brushing each other as they take you in. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and so fucking hot you’re gripping the camera like it’s your lifeline.

Somi’s hand slips under your shirt, nails raking lightly over your stomach, and Eunbi’s free hand digs into your thigh, grounding herself as she works you harder. They’re all in—knees pressed into the carpet, bodies leaning into you, mouths and hands everywhere. The camera shakes a little in your grip, but you keep it focused, the POV lens is drinking it all in, every filthy detail lit up by the shifting RGB glow—purple washing over their skin, then red, then blue, like some horny neon fever dream. Eunbi’s on her knees, her messy bun bouncing slightly as she moves, and Somi’s right there with her, that black masquerade mask sitting snug over her eyes. It’s one of those fancy ones, like you’d see at a ball—curved and sleek, hugging her face, with little swirls cut into the edges that make her look like some mysterious seductress.

Eunbi shifts lower, her hands gripping your thighs as she ducks her head and goes for your balls. Her tongue’s hot and wet, lapping at one, then the other, slow and sloppy like she’s savoring every second. She sucks one into her mouth, gentle at first, then harder, her cheeks hollowing out as she pulls just enough to make your breath catch. The sensation’s insane—warm and tight, her spit dripping down. She’s humming against you, this low, needy sound that vibrates straight up your spine, and you can’t help but groan, the noise rough and loud in the quiet room. The camera catches her from above—her hoodie’s still on, bunched up around her shoulders, and her eyes flick up at you through the lens, dark and teasing, like she knows she’s got you by the balls, literally.

Somi’s up higher, her hands wrapped around your cock, stroking it slow and deliberate while her mouth does the real damage. She’s in love with it, you can tell—her lips slide over the shaft, kissing it like it’s her favorite thing in the world, her tongue darting out to trace every inch. She’s messy with it, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin as she works you. That masquerade mask makes her look dangerous, the black fabric stark against her flushed skin, and when she pulls back for a sec, panting, she grins up at you. “Fuck, this thing’s a masterpiece,” she says, before diving back in. Her tongue swirls around the tip, flicking over the slit, and your hips jerk involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth. She moans around you, encouraging it, her hands pumping the base while her lips suck you down, wet and tight.

They’re a fucking team, trading off like they’ve got a playbook. Eunbi’s still sucking your balls, her tongue rolling over them now, sloppy and warm, while Somi’s got your cock in a death grip with her mouth. Then they switch it up—Eunbi pulls back, licking her lips, and Somi dips lower, kissing along the base while Eunbi’s hand takes over the shaft, stroking you fast and slick. The camera’s shaking a little in your hands, but you keep it locked on them, catching the way Somi’s mask slips just a fraction, and the way Eunbi’s hoodie rides up, flashing more of her stomach. It’s raw, chaotic, and so damn hot your head’s spinning.

Then they do something that nearly fucking kills you. Eunbi slides up, her mouth brushing the side of your cock, and Somi leans in from the other side. They sandwich the tip between their lips, kissing each other around it, their tongues tangling as they slide over you. It’s wet, messy, and loud—spit everywhere, their moans mixing with the slick sounds of their mouths working you over. Eunbi’s tongue flicks against Somi’s, then against you, and Somi’s sucking hard on one side while Eunbi mirrors her on the other. Your cock’s trapped in this perfect, sloppy vise, and you can’t hold back the moan that rips out of you—low and guttural, echoing in the room. The camera catches it all: their lips pressed together, your tip caught in the middle, glistening with their spit, the RGB lights painting their faces in streaks of color.

They keep going, relentless, their mouths sliding back and forth, trading sides, kissing around you like they’re starving for it. Eunbi’s hands dig into your thighs, nails leaving little half-moons in your skin, while Somi’s fingers tease the base of your cock, brushing your balls every now and then, sending jolts through you. Your dick’s soaked now, dripping with their spit, slick and shiny under the lights. Eunbi pulls back for a sec, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, her eyes glinting up at you. “Look at that,” she says, smirking, nodding at your cock like it’s some kind of trophy. Somi giggles, her mask shifting as she leans back, her chin wet and gleaming. “Yeah, we fucking drenched it,” she says, sounding proud as hell.

Eunbi sits back on her heels, grabbing the hem of her hoodie and yanking it over her head in one smooth motion. It lands in a heap on the floor, leaving her in that white tank top, the fabric stretched tight over her tits, puffy nipples poking through like she’s been hard this whole time. Somi follows suit, peeling off her tank top and tossing it aside—her massive chest bounces free, skin flushed from the heat of the room, and she adjusts her masquerade mask like it’s a crown, smirking at you through the lens. They’re both kneeling there, their bodies glistening with a light sheen of sweat, ready to take it up a notch. You lower the camera slightly, framing their tits in the shot, knowing damn well they’re about to give you a titjob that’ll blow your fucking mind.

Then Eunbi’s hands move to the bottom of her white tank top, fingers curling under the hem. She peels it up slow, teasing, like she’s putting on a show just for you—and the lens. The fabric stretches, then slides over her head, her massive tits bouncing free as she tosses it aside. They’re fucking huge, round and heavy, nipples hard and pink against her pale skin, catching the shifting RGB lights—purple, red, blue—like some kind of pornographic kaleidoscope.

Eunbi shifts closer, her knees digging into the carpet, and she leans in, cupping her tits with both hands. “Ready for this, babe?” she asks, eyes locked on yours through the camera. You nod, swallowing hard, your cock twitching at the sight of her. “Fuck yeah, I am,” you say, voice rough, already imagining how those soft, warm mounds are gonna feel. She smirks, adjusting her grip, and presses her tits together, sliding your slick, spit-soaked dick right into the valley between them. The first touch is insane—soft, plush, and hot, her skin wrapping around you like a glove. It's a feeling that always surprises you, no matter how many times you've experienced it. She starts moving, slow at first, bouncing her tits up and down, the friction building as your cock slides through. It’s wet from all their spit, slick and slippery, and the sound—fuck, it’s filthy, this soft, squishing noise every time she squeezes you tighter.

“Goddamn, babe,” you groan, angling the camera to catch every bounce, the way her tits jiggle and press against each other, trapping you in that perfect pocket. She giggles, low and dirty, loving how wrecked you sound. “Feels good, huh? My big fucking tits all over your dick?” she teases, picking up the pace, her nipples brushing your stomach every time she dips down. You’re losing it a little, hips twitching up to meet her, and she moans softly, getting off on how much you’re into it. “Yeah, babe, fuck my tits,” she murmurs, squeezing them harder, her thumbs brushing her own nipples like she’s teasing herself too. The camera’s catching it all—her flushed cheeks, the way her hair swings, the little beads of sweat starting to dot her chest. You’re in heaven, no lie, those massive, soft mounds swallowing your cock like they were made for it.

Somi’s watching from the side, her own hands drifting to her chest, kneading her tits absentmindedly as she bites her lip. “Shit, that’s hot,” she says, voice all breathy, her mask slipping a tiny bit as she leans closer. Eunbi glances over at her, smirking, and slows down, letting your cock slip free for a second. “Your turn,” she says, scooting over, her tits still heaving from the effort. Somi doesn’t hesitate—she shuffles into place, long legs folding under her, and grabs her own breasts, pushing them together. Hers are just as big as Eunbi’s, maybe a little perkier, with darker nipples that stand out against her flushed skin. She wraps them around your cock, and fuck, it’s a different kind of tight—firmer, her skin cooler from the air, but still so damn soft. She starts moving, quick and eager, her tits bouncing hard as she slides you in and out.

“Holy fuck,” you groan, head tipping back for a sec before you force yourself to focus on the camera again. The POV shot’s gold—her masked face tilted down, lips parted as she pants, blonde hair swinging, and those huge tits working you like a machine. “You like this, huh?” she says, grinning up at you, her voice all teasing and sharp. “My fat tits fucking your big dick? Better than you dreamed, right?” She squeezes tighter, and you hiss, the pressure insane, your cock disappearing completely between her mounds every time she pushes up. “Fuck yes,” you manage, voice tight, “you’re killing me with those things.” She laughs, throaty and smug, and leans forward more, letting the tip of your cock peek out at the top, brushing her chin. “Good,” she says, “I wanna ruin you for anything else.”

Eunbi’s shifted to the side now, kneeling close, her eyes glued to Somi’s tits bouncing around your cock. She’s biting her lip hard, one hand slipping under her shorts, rubbing herself through the fabric. “Fuck, babe,” she breathes, voice shaky with heat, “you look so good like that. Somi’s tits are eating you alive.” She’s horny as hell, you can tell—her cheeks are red, her breathing’s all over the place, and the way she’s touching herself is making her squirm. “You loving this?” she asks, leaning in to kiss your neck, her lips hot and wet against your skin. “Yeah, fuck, I’m losing my mind,” you say as Somi keeps going, her pace relentless. Eunbi moans against your neck, her hand moving faster under her shorts. “God, I love watching her fuck you with those,” she whispers, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

Somi slows down a little, teasing now, letting your cock slide out halfway before burying it back between her tits. “You’re so fucking hard,” she says, looking up at you through that mask, her eyes dark and wild. “These big-ass tits making you crazy?” She jiggles them a little, playful, and you can’t help but laugh, wrecked as you are. “Yeah, Somi, they’re fucking unreal,” you say, and she beams, proud as hell, picking up the pace again. The camera’s shaking more now, your hands unsteady, but you keep it on her—those bouncing mounds, the way her skin glistens with sweat, the little smirk she throws you every time she catches you staring.

Eunbi’s practically panting now, her hand moving in tight little circles under her shorts, her other hand reaching out to grab Somi’s arm. “Switch back,” she says, voice needy, almost desperate. Somi pulls back, letting your cock spring free, slick and shiny from all the spit and sweat, and Eunbi’s on it in a heartbeat. She presses her tits around you again, faster this time, her movements hungry. “Missed this,” she mutters, her voice all breathy as she works you, her nipples dragging against your stomach. “Love feeling you between my tits, babe.” You groan, the heat of her skin driving you wild. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” you say, and she grins, all smug and turned on, her tits squeezing you tighter.

Somi’s not just watching anymore—she’s leaning in, whispering in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Bet you could fuck these tits all day, huh? Me and her fighting over your dick like this?” Her hand brushes your thigh, teasing close to your balls, and you’re so wound up it’s a miracle you’re still holding the camera. “Yeah, shit, I could,” you say, voice cracking, and they both laugh, loving how gone you are. Eunbi slows down, dragging it out, her tits sliding up and down so slow you can feel every inch of her. “You’re ours tonight,” she says, looking up at you, her eyes dark and possessive through the lens. Somi chimes in, “Damn right,” her fingers tracing little patterns on your leg, keeping you on edge.

It’s too much—those two massive pairs of tits, the teasing, the way they’re feeding off each other’s energy. You’re drowning in it, loving every second of their soft, warm skin all over you, their dirty talk bouncing around your head like a fucking echo chamber. The camera’s still rolling, capturing every bounce, every squeeze, and you’re just trying to hang on, lost in the best kind of chaos.

But Eunbi got this sixth sense about you—knows you’re teetering right on the edge, your breaths getting ragged, your grip on the camera tightening like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. She stops slowly, deliberate and torturous, letting your dick slip out inch by inch until it’s just resting between her breasts, throbbing against her warm skin. “Alright, babe, think we’ve teased you enough with these,” she says, giving her tits one last squeeze around you before letting go. Your cock springs free, hard as steel, and she sits back on her heels, smirking up at you through the lens ‘cause she knows she’s got you on the edge.

You clear your throat and stand up, legs a little shaky from the buildup. “Alright, ladies, on all fours.” Eunbi and Somi don’t even blink—they’re already peeling off what’s left of their clothes. Eunbi kicks her soft black shorts to the floor, revealing those curvy hips and thick thighs, her pussy glistening under the lights. Somi shimmies out of her tiny pink shorts, tossing them aside with a flick of her long legs, her tighter, rounder ass popping as she stretches out. They scramble onto the bed, giggling and shoving each other playfully, then settle on all fours, side by side, asses up and ready. The mattress creaks under their weight, and you adjust the camera angle again, ready to record every damn second of this.

You step closer, taking it all in. Somi’s taller, her body more defined—long, lean legs leading up to that firm, sculpted ass, tight and high like she’s been squatting for years. Her pussy’s peeking out, wet and pink, framed by those sharp tan lines from the gym. Eunbi’s softer, all curves and plushness, her ass rounder and juicier, jiggling a little as she shifts her weight. Her skin’s pale and smooth, her pussy just as soaked, lips puffy and begging for it. You can’t resist—your free hand swings down, smacking Somi’s ass first, the crack echoing in the room. She yelps, then moans, arching her back more. Then you slap Eunbi’s, harder than you meant to, and she gasps, her flesh rippling under your palm. “Fuck, babe,” she mutters, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“So,” you say, voice rough, camera panning over their perfect lineup, “who’s first?” Eunbi tilts her head, her messy bun wobbling as she nods toward Somi. “Guest gets the honors,” she says, all generous and teasing, her eyes flicking to Somi’s ass like she’s proud to share. Somi wiggles her hips, looking back at you through the mask, grinning. “Yeah, come on, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.” You don’t need more invitation than that. You step up behind Somi, lining yourself up, the camera in one hand catching the way her pussy shines, already dripping from the buildup. You grab her hip with your free hand, steadying her, and slide the tip of your cock along her slit—slow, teasing, feeling how wet she is. She shivers, pushing back against you, impatient. “Fuck, don’t play with me,” she groans, and you laugh, low and dirty, before pushing in.

Her pussy’s tight, hot, clamping around you as you sink in deep, inch by inch. The stretch is fucking unreal, her walls gripping you like a vise, and you groan loud, the sound bouncing off the walls. The camera’s right there, POV perfect, catching the way her ass presses against your hips, the little dimples in her lower back flexing as she adjusts. “Holy shit,” you mutter, pulling back slow, watching your cock slide out, slick and shiny, before slamming back in. She moans, sharp and needy, her elbows digging into the bed as she rocks back to meet you. “Yeah, fuck me hard,” she says, and you oblige, picking up the pace, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her ass jiggles with every thrust, tight and round, and you smack it again, leaving a red handprint that the camera zooms in on. She’s loud—gasping, cursing, loving every second—and you’re losing yourself in it, hips snapping, the wet squelch of her pussy driving you wild.

Eunbi’s right next to her, watching, her own ass still up, swaying a little like she’s jealous. “Fuck, babe, you’re killing her,” she says, laughing, but there’s heat in her voice, her fingers twitching like she’s dying to touch herself. You pull out of Somi after a few more thrusts, her pussy clenching around nothing as you leave, and she whines, glancing back with a pout. “Don’t stop,” she says, but you’re already moving, shifting over to Eunbi. You know this pussy—soft, warm, familiar—but it’s no less fucking amazing. You line up, camera steady, and push in slow, savoring the way she opens for you, wet and ready. “Oh my god,” she moans, head dropping to the bed, her voice muffled against the sheets. She’s softer inside, her walls fluttering around you, and you grab her hips, pulling her back onto you hard. The camera catches it—the way her ass ripples, the curve of her spine as she arches, her pussy swallowing you whole.

“Fuck, Eunbi, you feel so good,” you say, voice gritty, and she hums in response, pushing back against you, matching your rhythm. Her pussy’s sloppy wet, the sound louder than with Somi, all slick and messy as you fuck her deep. She’s quieter than Somi but just as into it, her breaths hitching every time you bottom out, her fingers clawing at the sheets. You smack her ass too, lighter this time, and she giggles through a moan, glancing back at you. “Harder, babe,” she says, and you give it to her, slamming in so the bed shakes, her curves bouncing under your hand. The camera’s got it all—her soft flesh, the way her pussy grips you, the little beads of sweat rolling down her back.

You can’t choose, though—why should you? You pull out of Eunbi, her groan matching Somi’s earlier one, and slide back into Somi, quick and rough. “Fuck, yes,” Somi gasps, her tighter pussy squeezing you as you pick up where you left off, pounding her hard. The switch is seamless, the camera panning between them as you fuck a little of each, back and forth. Somi’s ass slaps against you, firm and loud, then Eunbi’s softer curves take over, her pussy sucking you in deeper. You’re grunting now, lost in the rhythm, the way their bodies feel so different but so fucking perfect. “You’re both insane,” you say, laughing through a groan, and Somi throws back, “Yeah, and you love it, don’t you?” Eunbi chimes in, “He fucking lives for it—look at him go.”

You keep going, a few thrusts in Somi—her tight, athletic heat—then back to Eunbi’s softer, wetter grip, the camera catching every switch, every angle. Somi’s moaning loud, her mask slipping a bit, while Eunbi’s quieter, panting into the bed, her ass wiggling every time you leave her. You slap both their asses again, just because you can, and they yelp in sync, then laugh, egging you on. “Which pussy you like more, huh?” Somi teases, glancing back, and Eunbi lifts her head, smirking. “Yeah, babe, pick a favorite.” You just groan, shaking your head, too caught up to answer, fucking them both like you’re trying to memorize every inch.

You’re deep in the groove now, the camera trembling in your hand as you pull out of Eunbi’s pussy, her soft, wet heat clinging to you like it doesn’t want to let go. She’s panting into the sheets, ass still up, all plush and inviting, and you’ve got an idea brewing. You shift your grip on the camera, angling it to catch the way her curves glisten under the RGB lights—purple fading into red, her skin slick with sweat. “Babe,” you say, “gonna switch it up.” She glances back, her messy bun half-undone, strands sticking to her neck, and smirks like she knows what’s coming. You line up, the tip of your cock brushing her tight little asshole, and push in slow. She moans loud, this deep, throaty sound that hits you right in the gut, her body tensing for a split second before she relaxes into it. She’s used to this—loves it, even—and you can tell by how easily she takes you, her ass stretching around you, hot and tight as fuck.

“Goddamn, princess,” you grunt, sinking in deeper, the camera catching every inch as you bury yourself in her. Her ass jiggles with the intrusion, soft and round, and she arches her back more, pushing back against you like she’s begging for it. You start fucking her hard, no warm-up needed—she’s already loose enough, her hole gripping you like a vice as you slam into her. The sound’s filthy—skin slapping skin, her moans bouncing off the walls, the bed creaking under the force. “Fuck, yes, babe, pound my ass,” she gasps, her voice all wrecked, fingers clawing at the sheets. You grab her hip with your free hand, digging in, keeping her steady as you rail her, the camera shaking but locked on her bouncing ass, the way it swallows your cock over and over. The RGB lights paint her in streaks of color, her pale skin glowing, sweat beading down her spine.

Somi’s right next to her, still on all fours, her tighter, rounder ass swaying a little like she’s waiting her turn. She’s watching you fuck Eunbi, her masked face turned just enough to catch the action, and you can see the jealousy flaring in her posture—shoulders tense, hips twitching. “Hey,” she says, voice sharp and pouty, “don’t hog him. I want that too.” She wiggles her ass at you, firm and perky, the tan lines from her shorts making it pop even more under the lights. Eunbi laughs through a moan, glancing at Somi. “Greedy bitch,” she teases, but there’s no malice—she’s too caught up in getting her ass pounded. You pull out of Eunbi, slow and deliberate, her hole winking at you as you leave, and she groans, half-protesting, half-catching her breath. “Don’t worry,” you say, smirking, “plenty to go around.”

You shift over to Somi, camera in hand, lining up behind her. Her pussy’s still dripping from earlier, but you’re aiming higher now. You slap her ass first—harder than you did Eunbi’s—and she yelps, then giggles, arching her back to give you better access. “Come on, fuck my ass already,” she says, all impatient and bratty, glancing back through that masquerade mask, her eyes dark and daring. You press the tip of your cock against her asshole, and she tenses, not as used to it as Eunbi, but she’s horny enough from everything else that it’s not a total fight. You push in, slow at first, and she hisses through her teeth, her tight ring stretching around you. “Fuck, that’s big,” she mutters, voice tight, but she doesn’t pull away—instead, she rocks back a little, testing it. You groan, the heat and squeeze insane, tighter than her pussy by a mile, and start moving, shallow thrusts to get her used to it.

“Shit, Somi, you’re so fucking tight,” you say, voice gritty, the camera zoomed in on her ass as you sink deeper. She moans, high and needy, her long legs trembling as she adjusts, her firm cheeks jiggling with every thrust. You pick up the pace, fucking her harder, and she’s louder now, gasping and cursing. “Yeah, fuck me, wreck my ass,” she pants, her bratty tone melting into something desperate. The camera catches it all—her toned back flexing, the way her ass bounces against your hips, the sharp contrast of her tight hole gripping you compared to Eunbi’s softer give. You smack her ass again, leaving another red mark, and she squeals, loving it, pushing back harder.

Eunbi’s not just watching anymore—she’s shifted closer, her hand slipping between her legs, rubbing herself as she stares at you railing Somi. “Fuck, babe, you’re destroying her,” she says, voice breathy and hot, her fingers moving fast. “Looks so good.” You grin, too caught up to reply, and pull out of Somi after a few more thrusts, her ass clenching as you leave, a little gape left behind. She whines, glancing back, but you’re already moving back to Eunbi. “Your turn again,” you say, sliding into her ass easy this time, her body welcoming you like an old friend. She moans loud, her softer curves shaking as you fuck her hard, the camera panning between her jiggling ass and Somi’s tighter frame next to her.

You’re in a rhythm now—fucking Eunbi’s ass for a few deep, brutal thrusts, then switching back to Somi’s, keeping them both on edge. Eunbi’s looser, her hole taking you with this sloppy, wet ease, her moans low and guttural as you pound her. “Fuck, I love your cock in my ass,” she groans, her voice muffled against the bed, her hips rolling back to meet you. Then you’re back in Somi, her tighter grip making you work for it, her gasps sharp and needy as you stretch her out again. “Harder, fuck, make it hurt,” she begs, and you oblige, slamming into her so the bed shakes, her firm ass rippling with every hit. The camera’s catching everything—the way Eunbi’s softer flesh bounces versus Somi’s tight, athletic jiggle, the sweat dripping down their backs, the little red marks blooming on their skin from your hands.

They’re egging each other on now, too. “Look at her take it,” Eunbi says, glancing at Somi, her voice all husky as she rubs herself faster. Somi fires back, “Yeah, well, your ass is swallowing him whole, slut.” They laugh, breathless and wrecked, loving the competition. You keep switching—Eunbi’s plush heat, Somi’s vise-like grip—your hips snapping hard, the room filling with the sound of flesh smacking flesh, their moans blending into this horny symphony. The RGB lights keep shifting, painting their bodies in wild colors, Somi’s mask glinting every time she looks back, Eunbi’s hair a tangled mess swinging with every thrust. You’re grunting, sweating, too caught up to care how shaky the camera gets, just focused on fucking these two perfect asses like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

But viewers need more. A few more hard pumps and you slow down, giving her ass one last firm squeeze, your fingers sinking into the flesh. “Fuck, babe,” you say, voice rough and winded, “time for you to ride me now.” She moans, low and needy, her head dipping as she catches her breath, her messy bun swaying. You pull out slow, her hole clenching around nothing as you leave, and she glances back with a smirk, knowing what’s next. You shift, placing the camera on the tripod on the side of the bed for a new angle. You go back to bed, lying flat on your back, head propped on a pillow, cock standing tall and slick under the RGB lights. The bed’s a mess, sheets twisted, sweat stains blooming, but you don’t care. Somi and Eunbi are already moving, giggling like they’re plotting something dirty, their naked bodies glowing in the shifting colors—purple, red, blue.

Somi’s first—she straddles you quick, her long legs folding under her, that tight, round ass hovering over your hips. “My turn to fuck you silly,” she says, voice all bratty and hot, grabbing your cock with one hand and lining it up. She sinks down fast, her pussy swallowing you whole, tight and wet and so fucking good you groan loud, hands flying to her hips. She starts riding you hard, no buildup, just straight to it—her ass slapping against your thighs, her massive tits bouncing like crazy, the motion wild and free. The camera’s off to the side, catching her from an angle—those firm mounds jiggling, her toned stomach flexing as she rolls her hips, her blonde hair swinging loose. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she moans, tossing her head back, her mask glinting in the light. “Filling me up—shit, I love this.”

Eunbi’s not just watching—she’s all over you, her hands sliding across your chest, nails raking over your abs like she’s marking territory. “God, look at you,” she murmurs, leaning down, her tongue flicking out to tease your nipple. She sucks it hard, teeth grazing the edge, and you hiss, the sensation sharp and electric. Her fingers dig into your sides, her curvy body pressed close, her breath hot against your skin. “You liking this, babe?” she asks, voice dripping with heat, her lips brushing your ear. “Somi’s tight little pussy fucking you good?” She’s playing with you, egging you on, her hands roaming while Somi keeps bouncing, the slap of skin loud and rhythmic. “Fuck yeah,” you grunt, voice tight, “she’s killing me.” Eunbi laughs, sucking your nipple again, her tongue swirling as Somi rides you harder, her moans getting louder, her tits practically hypnotizing with every bounce.

Somi leans forward, hands braced on your chest, her nails digging in as she grinds down, her pussy clenching around you. “Shit, your cock’s perfect,” she pants, smirking through the mask. “Eunbi’s lucky she gets this all the time—bet she brags about it.” Eunbi pulls back from your nipple, grinning up at Somi. “Damn right I do,” she says, all smug. “He fucks me so good—wait ‘til you see him wreck me next.” Somi laughs, breathless, her hips slamming down faster. “Oh, I’m watching, bitch—gonna steal some moves.” Their dirty talk’s bouncing around you, filthy and raw, and you’re just soaking it in, hands gripping Somi’s hips tighter as she rides you like she’s trying to break you.

Then it’s Eunbi’s turn. Somi slows down, reluctantly climbing off, her pussy leaving you slick and throbbing as she flops beside you, panting. “Your girlfriend’s up,” she says, smirking, brushing her sweaty hair back. Eunbi straddles you quick, her softer, curvier frame settling over your hips, her big tits swaying as she gets comfy. She grabs your cock, guiding it to her pussy, and sinks down slow, letting out this long, shaky moan as you fill her up. “Fuck, babe,” she breathes, her voice all soft and needy, “always so good.” She starts riding you, her movements smoother than Somi’s, her hips rolling in deep, lazy circles that make her massive tits bounce, heavy and full. The camera’s still catching it—the way they jiggle, her nipples hard and pink, her pale skin glowing under the lights.

Somi’s not idle—she shifts closer, her hand sliding up Eunbi’s thigh, then leaning in to suck on one of her bouncing tits. Her lips wrap around the nipple, loud and wet, sucking hard as Eunbi moans sharper, her rhythm faltering for a sec. “Oh fuck,” Eunbi gasps, her hands tangling in Somi’s blonde hair, pulling her closer. Somi pulls back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against Eunbi’s skin. “Fuck your girlfriend, dude,” she says, glancing at you with that masked grin, “she’s dying for it.” Then she dives back in, sucking harder, her tongue flicking over Eunbi’s nipple as Eunbi rides you faster, her pussy squeezing you tight.

“Goddamn, babe,” you groan, hands gripping her hips, feeling the softer give of her flesh compared to Somi’s firmness. “You’re so fucking wet—love watching you bounce on me.” She smirks down at you, her eyes half-lidded, all lust and heat. “Yeah? Love your cock splitting me open,” she says, Somi’s right there, her mouth switching to Eunbi’s other breast, leaving the first shiny with spit. “Shit, look at her go,” Somi mutters between sucks, “fucking your girl like a pro.” Eunbi laughs, breathless, grinding down harder. “He’s mine, but I’ll share—just keep sucking my tits like that.”

“You’re so fucking hot riding him,” Somi says, pulling back to slap Eunbi’s ass lightly, making it jiggle more. “Bet he’s losing his mind.” Eunbi fires back, “He fucking loves it—look at his face.” And she’s right—you’re gritting your teeth, groaning, caught up in the heat of her pussy, the bounce of her tits, Somi’s mouth all over her. Your hands roam, sliding up Eunbi’s sides, brushing Somi’s arm, keeping them both close as they tease and fuck you senseless. Then Eunbi slows down, rolling her hips a little more on your cock before pulling out and passing the turn to her friend.

Somi’s still buzzing from her last ride, her skin flushed and sweaty as she climbs back onto your lap, that mischievous glint in her eyes flashing through the masquerade mask. “Yes! My turn again,” she says, grabbing your cock with a quick, firm grip. “And this time, I’m taking it in my ass—I fucking loved that shit earlier.” She’s not messing around, already lining you up, the tip brushing her tight hole. You groan as she sinks down slow, her ass stretching around you, hotter and tighter than before, her long legs trembling as she adjusts. “Fuck, yes,” she hisses, tossing her blonde hair back, her firm, round ass pressing against your hips as she takes you all the way in. The sensation’s unreal—her walls clamping down hard, her moans sharp and needy as she starts moving, slow at first, testing it, then picking up speed. Her massive tits bounce with every roll of her hips, the slap of her skin against yours loud in the room, the RGB lights painting her in wild streaks of color.

You’re lying flat, hands gripping her thighs, but your mind’s already racing ahead. You glance at Eunbi, who’s kneeling beside you, her curvy body glistening, her pussy still dripping from riding you earlier. “Babe,” you say, voice rough, “sit on my face—I wanna eat you out.” Her eyes light up, a dirty smirk spreading across her lips. “Fuck, yes,” she says, scrambling over quick, her thick thighs straddling your head. The camera on the tripod next to the bed is angled masterfully—a perfect side shot of Somi riding your cock in her ass and Eunbi lowering her pussy onto your mouth. The red light blinks on, capturing everything as Eunbi settles in, her wet, puffy lips brushing your mouth, her scent hitting you hard—sweet and musky, all sex and heat. You dive in, tongue lapping at her folds, tasting her, and she moans loud, her hands bracing on your chest as she grinds down.

Somi’s riding you harder now, her ass bouncing fast, the tight grip driving you wild as you thrust up to meet her. “Shit, your cock’s stretching me so good,” she pants, leaning forward, her tits swaying with every move. Eunbi’s rocking her hips on your face, her juices coating your chin, and you suck on her clit, making her gasp, her fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck, babe, eat me—don’t stop,” she groans. The camera’s got it all—Somi’s toned frame slamming down on you, her ass jiggling, Eunbi’s softer curves grinding on your mouth, her big tits bouncing as she rides your face. The side angle’s perfect, the lights shifting from purple to red, their bodies glowing like some X-rated art piece.

Then it gets hotter—Somi leans forward, grabbing Eunbi’s face, and they crash their lips together, kissing sloppy and deep. Their tongues tangle, moans muffled against each other’s mouths, and their hands are all over each other’s tits, squeezing hard. Somi’s fingers pinch Eunbi’s nipples, tugging them just enough to make her whimper into the kiss, while Eunbi’s hands cup Somi’s bouncing mounds, kneading them rough. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Somi mutters between kisses, her voice wrecked, her ass still slamming down on your cock. “Love watching you ride his face,” she adds, smirking against Eunbi’s lips. Eunbi pulls back just enough to gasp, “Yeah? Love how he’s fucking your tight little ass—slut.” They laugh, all breathy and lust-drunk, diving back into the kiss, their hands groping harder, their moans syncing up.

You’re in deep—Somi’s ass is relentless, squeezing you with every thrust, her rhythm fast and brutal, her firm cheeks slapping your hips. Your tongue’s buried in Eunbi’s pussy, lapping at her clit, sucking hard, her thighs trembling around your head as she grinds down. “Shit, babe, you’re killing me,” Eunbi moans, her voice hitching, her nails raking across your chest. Somi’s not letting up either, her hips rolling faster, her ass taking you deeper. “Fuck, he’s so big—feels insane,” she groans, glancing down at you, her masked eyes wild with heat. The camera’s catching every second—Somi’s blonde hair swinging, Eunbi’s messy bun bouncing, their tits pressed together as they kiss, the wet sounds of your tongue and Somi’s ass mixing with their gasps and curses.

“Goddamn, you two are filthy,” you mumble into Eunbi’s pussy, your words muffled but enough for them to hear. They break the kiss, laughing, Somi slapping Eunbi’s ass playfully. “Says the guy tongue-deep in his girlfriend while I fuck his cock,” Somi fires back, grinning, her hips grinding down harder, making you groan into Eunbi’s clit. Eunbi shudders, her hands gripping Somi’s shoulders now. “Keep going, babe—fuck, I love your mouth,” she says, her voice all raw and needy, her pussy soaking your face as she rocks faster. Somi leans in again, kissing Eunbi’s neck this time, sucking a little mark there. “He’s fucking you so good with that tongue, huh?” she teases, her hands squeezing Eunbi’s tits again, thumbs flicking her nipples.

Their dirty talk’s bouncing off the walls, all around you—Somi’s bratty edge cutting through Eunbi’s softer, desperate tone. “Shit, Somi, squeeze her harder—she loves that,” you say, pulling back just enough to catch your breath before diving back into Eunbi’s pussy, your tongue circling her clit fast. Somi listens, pinching Eunbi’s nipples rough, and Eunbi yelps, her hips bucking harder on your face. “Fuck, yes—like that,” she gasps, her voice breaking. Somi’s riding you like a damn machine now, her ass slamming down so hard the bed’s creaking loud, her moans turning into sharp little cries. “God, I’m gonna—fuck,” she stutters, her hands braced on your thighs as she grinds down, her ass clenching tight around your cock.

Eunbi’s right there with her, her thighs shaking around your head, her pussy pulsing against your mouth. “Babe, don’t stop—fuck, I’m so close,” she pants, her voice high and frantic, her hands tugging at Somi’s hair now, pulling her back into a messy kiss. Their lips crash together, tongues sloppy, moaning into each other’s mouths as they grope and squeeze, their bodies trembling. You feel it—Somi’s ass tightening hard, Eunbi’s pussy quivering against your tongue—and then they’re both gone, hitting it together. Somi’s hips stutter, her moans turning into a loud, “Fuck, yes!” as she shakes on top of you, her ass gripping you like a vice. Eunbi’s right behind, her thighs clamping down, her juices flooding your mouth as she cries out, “Babe—shit!” her whole body shuddering, her tits bouncing wild as she grinds through it.

The camera’s still rolling, catching it all from that side angle—Somi’s firm frame shaking, Eunbi’s softer curves trembling, their lips locked, hands all over each other’s tits, the RGB lights flashing over their sweaty, spent bodies. They break the kiss, panting hard, laughing through the aftershocks, Somi slumping forward a little, her ass still on you, Eunbi catches her breath while stroking your hair, her pussy still hovering over your mouth. “Fucking hell,” Somi mutters, grinning, “that was insane.” Eunbi nods, breathless, “Best ride ever, babe.” They’re a mess, and you’re right there with them, soaked and grinning.

finally Somi climbs off you, her ass leaving your cock slick and throbbing, and Eunbi slides off your face, her pussy dripping down your chin. You’re sprawled on the bed, chest heaving, the RGB lights pulsing over their flushed, trembling bodies—purple bleeding into red, then blue, like some kind of filthy rave. “Alright, babe,” Eunbi says. “time to make you cum—give us that fucking load.” Somi’s already nodding, her masquerade mask glinting as she brushes her sweaty blonde hair back. “Yeah, dude, we’re draining you dry,” she adds.

You sit up quick, grabbing the camera off the tripod with a shaky hand, flipping it back to POV mode. The little red light is still on, and you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, planting your feet on the carpet. Your cock’s standing tall, slick with their juices, twitching under the lights, and the girls don’t waste a second—they’re on their knees between your legs, a perfect mirrored pair of lust-drunk chaos. Eunbi’s softer, curvier frame presses close on your left, her huge tits brushing your thigh, while Somi’s taller, tighter body slides in on your right, her firm mounds already nudging your skin. They’re a sight—Eunbi’s pale skin glowing, her nipples hard and pink, Somi’s tan lines sharp, her darker nipples perked up, both of them sweaty and glowing, ready to finish you off. You angle the camera down, catching their faces—Eunbi’s sultry smirk, Somi’s masked grin—then lower, framing their tits as they scoot closer.

“Gonna give you the best fucking double boobjob of your life,” Eunbi says, her voice dripping with heat as she cups her tits, squeezing them together. Somi mirrors her, pressing her own boobs tight, her fingers digging into the flesh. “Yeah, these big-ass tits are gonna milk you stupid,” she chimes in, smirking up at you through the mask. They slide in sync, each pair of breasts hugging one side of your cock—Eunbi’s soft, plush mounds on the left, Somi’s firmer, perkier ones on the right. It’s a goddamn dream, your cock swallowed whole between them, the heat and pressure insane as they start moving. They bounce together, slow at first, finding a rhythm—Eunbi’s tits jiggling more, Somi’s staying tight and controlled, the contrast driving you fucking wild. The camera’s catching it all—the way your cock disappears between their sweaty, bouncing flesh, the little beads of sweat rolling down their chests, the wet squish every time they press tighter.

“Fuck, look at that,” Somi mutters, glancing down at your cock sandwiched between them. “Our tits are eating you alive—bet you’re dying to blow all over us.” Eunbi laughs, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. “Come on, babe, give it to us—paint these fat fucking tits with your cum,” she teases, squeezing her mounds harder around you, her nipples brushing your shaft. You groan, your hands gripping the camera tighter as they work you, their movements syncing up—up and down, slow then fast, their spit and sweat making it slick and messy. “Goddamn, you’re so hard,” Somi says, her tone needy, almost whining, “fucking love feeling you throb between my boobs—cum for us, please.” Eunbi leans in closer, her breath hot against your cock as it peeks out the top. “Yeah, we’re your dirty little whores—begging for that thick load all over us,” she purrs, her eyes locked on yours through the lens.

They’re relentless, tits sliding faster now, the friction building, your cock trapped in this perfect, sweaty vise. Eunbi’s softer flesh molds around you, Somi’s firmer grip keeping it tight, and the combo’s got your head spinning. “Shit, you two are unreal,” you groan, voice cracking, the camera shaking as you fight to keep it steady. “These tits—fuck, I’m in heaven.” Somi smirks, leaning forward so her chin brushes the tip of your cock on the upstroke. “Heaven, huh? Wait ‘til you cum—gonna drown us in it,” she says, her hands squeezing her tits tighter, making you hiss. Eunbi’s not letting up either, her fingers tweaking her own nipples as she moves, her voice all desperate and slutty. “Come on, babe, give us that fucking cum—we need it, want it all over these big, juicy tits—please, fucking please.”

It hits hard—your whole body locks up, a growl ripping out of you as the first spurt shoots out, thick and hot, splattering across Somi’s right tit, then Eunbi’s left. They moan together, loud and pornographic, their tits still bouncing, milking you as you unload. “Fuck, yes!” Somi cries, her masked eyes wide as cum streaks over her chest, dripping down between her mounds. Eunbi’s gasping too, “Oh my god, babe—keep going, coat us!” and you do—spurt after spurt, ropes of it flying, hitting their tits, their necks, a stray shot catching Somi’s chin, another splashing Eunbi’s collarbone. It’s a fucking mess, white and sticky, pooling between their breasts, dripping down their stomachs, and they don’t stop—still sliding their tits around you, slower now, dragging it out.

“Shit, so much,” Somi mutters, her voice wrecked, her hands smearing the cum over her tits, rubbing it in like lotion as she keeps moving, her nipples shiny with it. Eunbi’s right there with her, her own chest a canvas of your load, her fingers scooping some up, grinning at you through the camera. “Fuck, babe, you hosed us—look at this mess,” she says, her tone all proud and filthy, her tits still pressed against your cock, milking every last twitch. Your eyes roll back, a groan escaping as they keep going, relentless, their soft, cum-soaked flesh squeezing you dry. “Goddamn, this is so fucking good,” you rasp, barely coherent, the overstimulation hitting hard as they wring out every drop, their hands slick, their moans echoing.

Then they shift—Somi leans over, her tongue darting out to lick a streak of cum off Eunbi’s tit, sucking her nipple clean with a wet, sloppy sound. Eunbi gasps, giggling through it, then returns the favor, her lips wrapping around Somi’s cum-covered nipple, sucking loud and messy. “Fuck, you taste good with his cum on you,” Somi mutters, smirking, her hands kneading Eunbi’s chest as she licks more, their tongues swapping your load back and forth. Eunbi moans, “Yeah? Then eat it all, you greedy whore,” and dives back in, her tongue lapping at Somi’s tits, both of them giggling and groaning, lost in the naughtiness. The camera’s catching every second—their slick, shiny bodies, the way they’re devouring each other, cum streaking their lips, dripping off their chins.

Finally, they pull back, panting, grinning, their chests heaving as they kneel there, a cum-drenched mess. Eunbi wipes her mouth, smirking at the camera, and leans into Somi, who adjusts her mask with a playful wink. “Well, fuck, that was wild,” Eunbi says, her voice all warm and cheeky, “hope you guys enjoyed the show—thanks for watching us get fucking wrecked.” Somi nods, giggling, “Yeah, you pervs—hope you came as hard as he did. See ya next time!” She blows a kiss, and Eunbi waves, all cute and bubbly despite the filth, their cum-streaked tits still front and center. “Bye, loves!” Eunbi chirps, reaching over to hit the stop button, ending the video with their naughty, beaming faces etched in the frame. The room falls quiet, just their heavy breaths and your pounding heart.

You slide the camera onto the nightstand, the little red light finally off, and flop back onto the bed, your body still buzzing from the insane high. The sheets are a tangled, sweaty mess beneath you. Eunbi and Somi are already up, giggling like kids caught doing something naughty as they rummage through the drawer by the desk. Eunbi pulls out a pack of wet wipes, ripping it open with her teeth, and tosses a couple to Somi. “Alright, cleanup crew,” she says, stepping over to Somi with a smirk. They start wiping each other down, the wipes gliding over their cum-streaked tits, leaving their skin shiny and clean. Somi’s giggling hard, swiping at Eunbi’s chest, her fingers brushing her nipples just enough to make Eunbi yelp and swat her hand away. “Fuck, stop teasing, you perv,” Eunbi laughs, smearing a wipe across Somi’s collarbone, chasing a stray drip that’s trickled down from her chin.

“So,” Eunbi says, tossing a used wipe into the trash by the bed, “what’d you think, Somi? First time getting railed on camera with us—rate it.” Somi pauses, peeling off the masquerade mask slow, revealing her full face—sharp cheekbones, big eyes, a grin that’s equal parts smug and dazed. She tosses the mask onto the desk, shaking out her blonde hair, and flops onto the bed next to you, her head landing on your chest like it’s her personal pillow. “Fucking loved it,” she says, stretching her long legs out across the sheets. “You two are hot as shit—like, I knew it’d be wild, but that was next-level. My ass is still tingling, and those titjobs? Goddamn.”

Eunbi laughs, grabbing her phone off the nightstand and sliding onto the bed beside you, her warm, soft body pressing against your side. “Glad you had fun, you little freak,” she teases, nudging Somi’s leg with her foot. Then she turns to you, her head resting on your shoulder, her messy bun tickling your neck. “What about you, babe? How was it?” You stretch out, one arm sliding under her, the other resting on Somi’s back as she snuggles closer. “Fucking awesome,” you say, grinning up at the ceiling, your voice still rough from all the groaning. “Hands down the best titjob of my life—those four massive tits all over me? I’m dead, bring me back just to do it again.” Eunbi snickers, her hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. “Yeah, we fucking killed it,” she says, all proud and smug, her breath warm against your collarbone.

Somi shifts, reaching over to the nightstand and snagging her vape, the sleek little device glinting under the lights as she takes a long pull. She exhales a cloud of sweet-smelling mist—strawberry or some shit—and settles back, her head on your chest again. “You know,” she says, her voice all mellow now, “we should do this again. But like, no cameras next time—just us, fucking for the hell of it. Pure pleasure, no script.” She smirks, blowing another puff of vapor toward the ceiling, the haze curling in the shifting lights. Eunbi hums in agreement, her fingers still wandering over your abs. “Fuck yeah, I’m in,” she says, glancing up at you with a lazy grin. “No pressure, just us getting nasty—sounds perfect, right, babe?” You nod, your hand sliding down her back, resting on the curve of her ass. “Hell yeah, count me in. Cameras are fun, but sometimes you just wanna fuck without the spotlight.”

Somi’s grinning now, taking another hit from the vape, the tip glowing blue as she inhales, then passing it to Eunbi, who waves it off with a laugh. “Nah, thanks—I'm into fitness now,” she says, snuggling closer to you instead. Somi shrugs, keeping it to herself, the faint buzz of the device humming as she lounges there, her long legs dangling off the edge of the bed. The room’s settling into this cozy, post-sex vibe—everyone’s loose, sweaty, satisfied, the tension melted away into something softer. Eunbi’s thumbing through her phone now, her head still on your shoulder, and suddenly her eyes light up, a little gasp slipping out. “Oh shit, check this,” she says, holding the screen up so you and Somi can see. It’s an Instagram DM from Sana—profile pic all sultry and artsy—inviting Eunbi to her podcast later this month. “Hey babe,” it reads, “loved your last vid—wanna come chat on the pod? Yujin told me a lot of good things about you and your boyfriend. You’re blowing up, girl.”

Somi leans over, squinting at the screen, her vape forgotten for a sec. “Wait, who’s Sana?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she props herself up on one elbow, her hair spilling over your chest. Eunbi grins, scrolling up to show Sana’s profile—tons of followers, clips of her podcast episodes, and a few spicy TikToks that Somi instantly recognizes. “Oh, she’s another adult content creator,” Eunbi explains. “Super hot, super chill—does solo stuff mostly, but her podcast’s huge. Talks about the industry, sex, all that jazz. Gets big names on there too.” Somi nods, her eyes lighting up. “Oh fuck, yeah—I’ve seen her on TikTok! That one where she’s in the red sexy dress, vibing to some trap beat? She’s fire.” She takes another pull from the vape, exhaling slow, then grins at you both. “Damn, you guys are legit climbing the ranks—congrats, you sexy fuckers.”

Eunbi’s beaming now, her cheeks pink with pride as she sets her phone down and curls up tighter against you, her hand slipping to rest on your thigh, casual but possessive. “Thanks, babe,” she says to Somi, then looks up at you, her eyes soft but sparkling. “It’s fucking wild, right? Like, we’re actually doing this—people are noticing.” You squeeze her ass, pulling her closer, your chest swelling with that same excitement. “Hell yeah, it’s dope,” you say. “You’re killing it, Eunbi—proud of you.” She smiles, all shy for a sec, then kisses your neck, her lips lingering like she’s savoring it. Somi watches, smirking, blowing a playful ring of vapor your way. “Aw, you two are cute—gross, but cute,” she teases, then settles back, her head on your chest again, the vape humming as she takes another hit.

And you’re lying there, a little smirk on your face, feeling good about finally saying yes to the threesome. At first, you weren’t sure—thought it might be awkward, maybe mess up what you and Eunbi had. But now, with them both next to you, all sweaty and chill after that insane session, you’re glad you went for it. It didn’t feel weird at all—just worked, like they both fit right in. Somi brought the crazy, Eunbi kept it familiar, and it was honestly a blast. No regrets—turned out way better than you figured.

The three of you are just crashed out, all tangled up, The RGB lights keep changing, throwing colors on the ceiling, and it’s a nice wind-down—relaxed, cozy, everyone still feeling it. Eunbi’s messing with your skin, drawing little shapes, Somi’s head’s on your chest, breathing slow, and you’re just taking it in. Eunbi’s rising fame mixes with how wild tonight was. It’s a solid night—real solid—and the idea of doing it again, cameras or not, lingers thick in the air like the sweet haze from Somi’s vape.

[nymphoniah]

one of these nights | logan howlett

pairing: old man!logan x afab!reader

AN: just a little drabble while i work on an ask! i can’t stop thinking about lazy evenings with old!man logan. he loves to rough up his girl, whether she likes it or not <3

content/tags: NSFW, minors DNI (18+ only!), suggestive content, hair pulling, teasing, old man!logan, age gap (reader is in their 20’s) kinda dom/sub vibes if you squint, daddy kink, assplay (spanking, but gently), pet names (princess, darling, sugar, etc.), dirty talk, mark leaving (hickeys)

you’re sprawled out on the couch, cozy with your head rested on his lap. he’s seated, reading a book, elbow propped up against the armrest, prescription glasses slowly drooping down his nose bridge.

with his free hand, he’s playing with your hair, ruffling it up the same way you do with his. his fingers intertwine lazily with your hair, twisting at the strands that frame your face

“c’mon logan!” you whine, pushing his hands away playfully, “i just curled my hair, wanted to look nice for you”, you quipped, emphasizing the last word by nuzzling your face deeper into the plush of his thighs in frustration.

“don’t worry,” he coos, letting out a deep chuckle. you enjoy the way his chest vibrates against you, a wistful sign of his affection; a small tell that only you can decipher.

“you look absolutely pretty this way, doll,” he lulls, folding the corner on the page of his book, placing it on the nightstand.

his firm hands move to the curve of your waist, slowly creeping their way downwards. you grunt in response, your impish way of saying as if!

he pats the flesh of your ass with a rhythm—gentle and slow, the same way you’d pat a baby’s back to help them fall asleep. it was soothing, calming, it kept you grounded.

you loved being pampered by logan. it never mattered to him if he was busy reading, working late in his study. he always made time for you.

he played with the hem of your skirt, tugging ever so slightly—teasing you back. he knew of your intentions, knew how needy you were the second you laid down next to him.

he gives you one last gentle smack on the ass, serving as a punctuation of some sort. “c’mere darling,” he murmurs, his tone low and sultry with the natural timbre of his voice.

you slowly crawl your way into his lap, gently slotting yourself between his thighs, his thick muscles now caging you in.

logan was an absolute sight— tired, disheveled, tie half way loosened. despite his age, he filled out his button-up shirt quite well, his muscles barely contained by the cotton.

“you really think i look pretty like this?” you ask innocently, tilting your head to the side. your hair still a tangled mess from his absentminded fiddling.

“’course you do, doll,” he responds with no hesitation, placing wet kisses along your neck, his salt-and-pepper beard tickling the sensitive skin.

his hands run along your sides, slipping them underneath your nightgown. you moan at the way his cold hands work at your sensitive nubs, graciously molding your mounds.

he playfully tugs at them, and you let out a little his. the corner of his mouth curls, a tight smirk now forming across his face.

“need to ruin you, sugar”, he groans against you, now planting kisses against your collarbone, sucking ever-so slightly to leave those purple bruises you both desired.

“fuckin’ need to make a mess outta you,” he drones on, intoxicated by the way you react to his touch; a simple whimper or small whine that escaped your lips made his cock twitch.

he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging slightly to make sure your eyes meet his. his stern gaze meets your lust blown pupils, and she shakes his head in dismay.

“now let your daddy rough you up a lil’ bit more, princess…”

[alaiasole]

🍸welcome to solè’s bar.🍸

tonight’s special: onyankopon — rage practice & head therapy

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→footballplayer!onyankopon x black!reader

→ smut | modern au | he’s mad after practice. you handle it.

→ tags: f!reader,oral (f!giving),unprotected sex,dirty talk aftercare

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

it’s a chill evening. you’re curled up on the couch in your little pajama set soft, thin, the tv hums low in the background, something you’ve half-watched while scrolling on your phone. you’re relaxed. cozy.

then you hear the front door unlock.

your head lifts slightly.

click.

he steps in.

onyankopon.shoulders broad and jaw sharp, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing that tight black compression shirt and some low-hanging grey sweats that sit just right. his skin’s still glistening slightly from the cold night air. he kicks the door closed with his heel and just stands there for a second.

he looks pissed.

is it bad that your first thought is: damn… he looks so good like this.

he sees you on the couch and makes his way over without a word. his face is tight, unreadable, but his body moves on muscle memory he leans down, kisses your cheek, pulls you into a one-armed hug that lingers longer than it should for someone that mad.

you blink up at him, all sweet.“rough day?” you ask.

his jaw tightens. he nods once. “you could say that,” he mutters. his voice is low,.“i’m gonna shower.”

he walks off. jaw clenched, back tight, arms swinging just a little harder than usual. the bathroom door shuts with a solid click.

and you just sit there.

…kinda turned on.

like, why did that make your coochie jump?

you bite your lip. a little smirk creeps in. this man is fine all the time, but angry? frustrated? chest rising, lips pressed into a hard line, talking with that heavy silence like he’s trying not to take it out on anyone?

yeah. that does something to you.

you glance toward the bathroom. you wait.

and then you get up and walk over to your shared bedroom.

he’s mad. but he’s your man. and you’re about to turn that steam into something productive.

you’re laying on the bed, phone in hand, half-scrolling, half-listening to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

minutes pass.

then the door opens.

onyankopon steps out hair damp, towel slung low around his waist, water dripping from his chest, trailing down the dips and lines of his abs. he doesn’t say anything. just walks straight into the closet. you peek at him through your lashes, pretending to still be on your phone.

he comes back out dressed in some loose grey sweats and a plain t-shirt, still drying off his neck with the towel. he climbs into bed next to you, grabbing his phone, but he’s not really on it. his face is tight again. not as sharp as before, but still heavy.

you study him quietly for a second, then slide your phone onto the nightstand. roll onto your side and press into his warmth, eyes soft. you scoot closer, watching him for a second you press a soft kiss to his shoulder, your voice calm. “what happened at practice?” you ask gently. “why you so mad?”

he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to keep it together. “coach was on bullshit again,” he mutters. “talking down. blaming me for shit that wasn’t even mine. i’m not stupid i know what it is. he’s picking at me.”

you run your fingers along his arm, soothing. “you don’t deserve that, baby.”

he looks at you, eyes tired. “it’s just frustrating. i work too hard to be treated like that. and it’s not even just me. it’s the whole team. the energy’s fucked up now.”

“and you feel all of it,” you say quietly,”cause you’re sensitive. you feel everything. it gets in your body.”

he nods. “we’re connected. if the vibe’s off, i feel it.”

you press another kiss to his jaw, your voice warm. “yeah, but baby… you gotta protect yourself too. you can’t hold all that weight all the time.”

he doesn’t answer. just breathes a little deeper.

you slide your hand over his stomach, fingertips brushing the hem of his shirt. “you need to stop stressing,” you whisper. “it’s not good for you.”

his voice is soft now. “i’m trying.”

you smile, eyes still on him. “let me help.”

you drag your fingers lower, slow and gentle, caressing the dips of his abs. his muscles twitch under your touch. he watches you, lips parted like he’s about to say something, but then your hand drifts even lower, tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants.

“you gotta start relaxing,” you say, featherlight. “let me take care of you.”

you cup him through his sweats—he’s already heavy, warm. your palm presses in slow, rubbing soft.

he hisses between his teeth. “baby…”

you smirk, voice dipped in honey. “shh. just relax.”

you tug the waistband down and his cock springs free, hard and waiting. you look up at him from between his legs, big eyes gleaming.

“let me help you forget everything.”

you lower your head, licking a slow stripe from base to tip, your tongue warm and wet and teasing. his hips jerk, breath catching in his throat.

“fuck…”

you wrap your lips around his tip, suck gently, then sink down deeper, inch by inch, until you feel him hit the back of your throat.

“shit, just like that…”

you moan around him low and deep and the vibration makes him groan, his hand finding your hair. you bob your head slow at first, building rhythm, spit dripping down onto your hands, your chest, your sheets.

your throat’s stuffed full but your eyes never leave his. he’s falling apart under you head back, chest rising, abs clenching every time you sink lower.

“goddamn,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “that mouth… baby…”

you gag on it a little, spit sliding down your chin, but you don’t stop. you want him dizzy. soft. putty. he grips the sheets groaning.

you pull off with a pop, spit connecting your lips to his tip. and then you go right back down—ready to make him forget every single thing but the way your mouth feels wrapped around him.

you use both hands, twisting at the base while your mouth works his tip, spit dripping down your wrists. his thighs tense, one hand on the back of your head, pushing—not too hard, but enough to let you know he’s close.

“fuck, baby… i’m bout to cum…”

you keep going. sucking deeper. faster. your eyes roll back as you moan around him, and he groans so loud it echoes off the walls. he bucks his hips once, twice and then he’s spilling down your throat. hot. thick. salty. you swallow it all like a good girl, slow and greedy.

before you can even wipe your mouth, he’s pulling you up “c’mere”grabbing your waist and sliding you into his lap, straddling his thick thighs.

he kisses you. full tongue, no hesitation. hand in your hair, breathing hard, like he’s trying to taste himself on your lips.

you melt into it. moaning into his mouth.

and then he flips you. like nothing. strong hands gripping your hips, spinning you so you’re under him. he kisses your neck, trails his mouth down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin like he wants to mark it.

“you so fuckin’ sweet,” he murmurs between kisses. “sittin pretty on this bed, actin innocent… you was just suckin me like you tryna snatch my soul”

his hand slips under your shorts, fingers rubbing slow, soft circles over your clit.

you gasp. hips twitching. “ony…”

he kisses you again, deeper this time. two fingers rubbing your clit just right, and you’re moaning in his mouth, legs already shaking.

“you needed this, huh?” he breathes. “wanted me all mad so i’d fuck it outta you?”

you whimper. “maybe…”

“mmhm.” he pulls your shorts down slow. you take off your shirt. bare now, under his heavy gaze.

“turn over,” he says, voice dark and low.

you obey.

he slides in slow, groaning as he bottoms out. your pussy tight, wet, hugging every inch. he stays there for a second, hand on your ass, hips flush against yours.

“this how you wanna relieve my stress?” he mutters, grinding slow. “with that perfect lil pussy?”

you moan, face buried in the sheets. “yes.”

he starts to move. deep, strong strokes. the kind that clap loud, that make the bed knock against the wall. you arch your back, biting your lip, trying to fuck back like he wants.

“c’mon,” he grunts, slapping your ass. “fuck back for me. lemme feel that shit.”

you try. hips moving. but he’s too deep, too good. your body starts to fold under the pressure.

“i can’t,” you whine.

“yes you can,” he says, grabbing your waist, drilling into you harder. “this what you wanted, right?”

you nod into the mattress, moaning like crazy. “mhm yes fuck, yes.”

he puts one leg up on the bed, foot planted, and starts to fuck into you deeper. harder.

“yeah,” he groans. “take it.”

you moan out. not even words. just a mess of sounds and whimpers as his cock stretches you out, fucking into the softest parts of you.

you start trying to crawl forward, weakly. he grabs your hips and yanks you back.

“where you goin’?” he pants. “nah. take it.”

you’re rolling into the sheets, fingers clawing at the bedspread. “ony baby i can’t—”

“yes you can.” his strokes get deeper. more punishing. “you made me feel better, right? now i’m returnin’ the favor.”

he hits your spot so good it makes your toes curl. your whole body trembling.

“shit, this pussy so fuckin’ good,” he grunts. “got me ready to lose my mind.”

and then he pulls out with a groan, stroking himself fast.

you barely turn your head before you feel it—thick ropes of cum hitting your ass, warm and wet, painting your skin in heavy, hot streams. so much. way more than expected.

you blink, dazed, trying to catch your breath.

he leans over, kissing your back. “damn…” he whispers. “you drained the fuck outta me.”

you laugh, breathless. “you’re welcome.”

he kisses your shoulder. “you good?”

you hum

he disappears for a moment, and you feel the bed shift as he comes back with a warm towel. he’s quiet, focused, gentle cleaning you up like you’re something delicate. something he treasures.

“thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft, lazy, still swimming in the afterglow.

he tosses the towel to the side and slides back into bed, pulling you into him. his arms wrap around you, broad and warm, and you sink into his chest like it’s the only place you’re supposed to be.

fingers trace slow patterns along your spine. the room is quiet now, just the soft hum of the tv and your steady breathing. you rest your head on his shoulder.

“so…” you whisper, lips brushing against his skin. “did i relieve your stress?”

he chuckles low, kissing your forehead.

“yeah,” he says. “you did. more than i knew i needed.”

you smile to yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

mission accomplished.

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[risuola]

LOOKS LIKE WE'RE SNOWED IN FOR THE NIGHT — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, with whom you got stuck in a cabin

A fireplace, a nice blanket, a bunch of snow and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… for some it might sound like a perfect way to spend the night during the festive season, but not when you’re stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your biggest enemy. And it’s cold.

cw: smut, enemies to lovers, oral (f. receiving), angst-ish vibe, death mentioned (I put it as a warning, but honestly, if you're into jjk you're probably used to it, just sayin'), reader discretion is advised — 2,9k words

kissmas masterlist

“Looks like we’re snowed in for the night,” Choso pointed, making few futile attempts to push the doors open. “I can force the way out but I doubt you’re gonna survive it.” He added, venomous tone evident in his otherwise calm and low voice.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. This is horrible, you thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse than that. The cabin, secluded and nestled deep in the woods, once a welcoming refuge from the cold, was now a claustrophobic cage trapping you and Choso inside. The doors, blocked by the snow piled high behind them were impossible to open and the windows – old and grime-stained – covered with ice, offered no escape. The interiors, now cleared out of the cursed spirit that resided in here scaring the owners away, were as cozy as they could be with warm colors of the creaking wooden floors and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, that funny enough was the only thing that still was working inside. The furniture was faded and worn-down by the humid air, the cobwebs decorating every corner.

The task at hand was simple enough – get in, exorcise, get out – but the snow and the cold were making everything more difficult, not to mention the man you had to share the experience with. It was a part of introducing the Death Painting into the jujutsu society and a silent attempt to make the two of you fonder of each other, but the result proved itself to be starkly different, when you got stuck with him for the night, or god knows how long.

“Damn,” you groaned finally, realizing there’s nothing you can do to make the situation better. No escape, no signal, not even a goddamn kettle that would work.

“Looks like you’re really screwed, huh?” Choso mocked you, a smirk twisting his features because he knew – he just knew that you’re not gonna make it through the night and though he enjoyed the idea of watching you freeze to death, he involuntarily threw some more wood into the fire to keep it alive.

“I’m perfectly fine, fuck you,” you snapped, glaring at his stupid handsome face from your place across the room, hoping silently that maybe once in this world a glare could kill.

You and Choso had always been on opposite sides. Your fights always end up in blood, there was little to no respect between you two, and though in a fight you two were able to work together, outside of it, it was a much different story. You just couldn’t stand each other, you could never put a finger on the reason why, but you just never clicked. Always having different opinions, always too stubborn to let go and not even once agreeing on a plan of work. You trusted him just enough to know he will most likely not kill you in your sleep.

Now, as the sound of the howling wind outside was constantly reminding you on the dire situation, the storm outside showing no signs of letting up, the pressure between you and him seemed to reach a breaking point. At first, you moved through the cabin, walking back and forth, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to ignore the fact you were trapped together. “Sit quiet and stop being annoying,” you growled at him, hating the way he was sprawled comfortably on the little sofa while you were feeling more and more cold as the hours were passing by. Kamo and his damn temperature regulation.

You had been fighting constantly since you arrived, each blaming the other for the predicament you were in. You argued and hurled insults at each other, both trying to assert dominance over the other. You were constantly on the edge, you bickered until both of you were that close to exploding. You fought about everything, from the mission to the tiny space you were forced to share. You could barely stand the sound of each other’s breathing, much less the sight of each other’s faces and the constant, near proximity. It was only a matter of time one of you snapped.

It felt claustrophobic, nearly – the way only four walls were surrounding you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite navigate yourself through the treacherous environment. You had no idea what exactly was oh-so wrong with this place. A desolate cabin with nothing but cold air and the palpable tension between you and Choso was slowly taking a toll on you. Harsh winter wind howled outside and it was clear that your spirits matched its bitterness. The twinkling, colorful lights adorning the mismatched Christmas tree in the corner did nothing to warm up the bleakness of the place.

Hours passed and you got tired of the banter. Choso noticed how slowly you became, quiet, less talkative. It became easier and easier to outsmart you as the cold was taking a toll on your body. Your retorts were less sharp, a little delayed as the temperature went even lower along with the night progressing.

“You’re gonna die in here?” He asked, his tone as nonchalant as ever, but it was getting to him that you might actually die that night. It was fun while it lasted and you did an excellent job in making him believe that you’re gonna survive the night, that you’re fine. He allowed his eyes, that up until that point were closed as he was resting on the sofa, to look at your form. You were shivering, seated on the furry carpet near the fireplace and though you were as close to the heat as it was possible, it didn’t do much to help you. Your breath was visible and you were constantly rubbing your hands together in hopes to stop them from going numb.

“I’m fine,” you said again, your voice much punier than you intended it to be and Kamo found it amusing how you forced yourself to sound strong, when in reality, you were so small and weak and vulnerable.

“Oh, are you?” The question had mocking qualities that Choso couldn’t hold back. “You know, all it takes is for you to ask nicely and I might consider warming you up.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, you were so stubborn. He shrugged and kept observing you.

The cabin fell quiet. The air was thick with tension and the only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the ceiling, crackling of fire in the fireplace and the soft tickling of a clock. The rattling of the windows in the wind accompanied the cacophony.

“Isn’t the big, strong sorceress now uncharacteristically quiet?” He joked once again, and you could have sworn that even in the freezing cold, he had an ability to make your blood boil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I miss the times when paintings were not talking,” you retorted, wrapping yourself tighter in the imitation of a blanket you found laying around. “You have no idea how much I’d love to exorcise your half-cursed ass.”

“As if you were ever gonna be strong enough to put a harm onto me,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. “Besides, you might wanna pick your words carefully. You’re at my mercy right now.”

“I’d rather be eaten by a polar bear than be at your mercy.”

“Oh, that would be a cool death, right?” He laughed, a taunting tone piercing the air and your soul, it seemed. “Or a curse. It would sound much better in the report later if I told your friends that you lost your life in battle, with bravery and strength, yeah? For sure it’s more appealing than a lame reason like freezing to death.”

“Oh, shut up…” you sighed, leaning your cheek on one of your knees. You kept them tightly pressed to your chest, a desperate attempt of storing any leftover heat along your torso, but it did little to nothing. “Come on, get your ass over there.”

“I already told you, you have to ask me nicely.”

“That’s as nice as I’m gonna get.”

“So that’s as close as you’re gonna get me,” he smirked, teasing you beyond decency, well aware of how delicate was a situation you were now in. To him, cold was nothing more than an inconvenience. In all honesty, he could break the doors open and just go through the snow during night and he would be just fine, but you… it was a different story and truth is that he stayed in the cabin only because of you.

“Choso, please, don’t be a dick, I’m freezing to death, literally,” you whined, forgetting about your pride and prioritizing the survival. “Please?”

“Much better,” Choso chuckled and moved from the sofa to the floor, sitting behind you with his legs on both sides of your frame. “Loosen up a little,” he ordered, throwing away your blanket and as his arm sneaked around your waist, he pulled you into himself, your back now pressed against his chest.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, shifting your position and wrapping yourself around him. He was hot and it felt like the heat was emitting from him, seeping onto you the moment you made contact with his muscular frame. You pushed your face against his neck, nuzzling your cold nose into his warm skin.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” He commented, putting on an indifferent, snarky mask but inside, he was feeling things. It was odd, it was new. He wasn’t exactly an expert in romantic situations, in fact besides few really brief adventures with women, it was the first time he was actually somewhat intimate. Choso’s mind was in a limbo, trying to fight the thoughts of his body which were going crazy. The way your frame fit so closely to his, the way you turned your face and melted into him… it was almost too much. Thoughts raced around his head a mile a minute.

“Aren’t you a scrooge for letting me freeze while you’re that hot?”

“Well, I’m your partner on the job, not your personal heater,” he shrugged, allowing his hand to run along the curves of your waist and hip. “Also, I’d assume that the low temperature is a natural habitat for a cold bitch like you.”

“Ouch,” you acted hurt but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I have a great idea, why don’t you shut up?”

“Oh, did that sting you, princess?”

„I’m serious, you should shut the hell up,” it was a mumble, an unharmful one, but Choso must have gotten a different impression.

It was a flash. It took you few seconds to even register what just happened and once you did, you were already helpless beneath him. The soft, furry carpet now tickling you in the face as Choso kept you, chest down and pinned to the ground. It annoyed you how easily one of his hands kept both of your wrists pushed up above your head. You felt his weight on top of your thighs, his crotch pressed tightly to your ass and his other hand supporting his weight on the wooden floor.

“Now, if you’re gonna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you as one,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear as he leaned down and gathered some of your hair to the side to uncover your face to his eyes. Your hopeless pulls and wriggles did nothing to loosen up his hold. If anything, his fingers only tightened their grip around your wrists.

“Get off me,” you groaned, trying to find your way out of the situation, but the movements of your body seemed to make it worse. The man hummed darkly, aiming a mean slap at your ass.

“Stop wiggling,” he warned, smirking at the way your body tensed for a moment. He couldn’t tell what’s gotten him into such a playful mood. Maybe it was all the thick air between you two finally exposing its true colors – something once filled with anger and hostility, now crackled with an undeniable sexual tension.

“Did you just slap me?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d sooner be dead than you’ll admit out loud that it somehow felt good.

“I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You whined you’re cold, huh? Well, guess I’ll have to warm you up for real,” Choso added, now grinning mischievously. “Be a good girl, I know you can do it. Now I’ll let go of your hands and you’ll turn around, yeah?”

You hummed in response, not really sure what’s gotten into him but you were far from minding it so you flipped to your back as soon as he gave you a chance. Still on top of you, Choso kept a controlling grip over your hip, his touch burning your bare skin over there.

The fire crackled and flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows on the two of you but you couldn’t tell if the sparkle in his eyes was a reflection of it or just pure lust. The latter, you thought, catching his gaze as it scanned your form, paying a little more attention to your lips, chest and the little strip of skin that showed from underneath your blouse.

Kamo was enticed by you, fascinated even, by the way his body was suddenly yearning for you. The unusual desire overflown his senses and he found himself inching closer and closer, until he was just one, mere breath away from your mouth. He could feel you gasp, see the look of your eyes and if he wouldn’t know better he would be convinced there was lust in them too.

“Nervous?” He whispered, with a slight shadow of teasing painted all over his stupidly handsome features. His nose, now brushing against yours initiated the touch, a prelude of sorts to what was going to come and Choso chuckled at the lack of response from you. It was, in a way, an opening for you to push him away, to set a boundary, to lay down the consent but you made no effort to do any of that. Instead, you let your fingers to find his hair and once you pulled at them, there was no going back.

His lips pressed into yours. The kiss and the heat from your bodies warmed the cold air around you, melting the icy tension that lingered between you as you, too, melted below him. The time seemed to slow down and the melody of howling wind and fire was now a white noise to the soft sounds and whimpers you were making. Your mouth parted and Choso took the invitation eagerly, running his tongue along your lower lip and reaching yours. They twirled and twisted, danced and explored each other and you swore at the moment that the world around you had fallen away.

It didn’t take long since you were bare, completely exposed underneath his muscular body; the cold air around you a stark contrast to the extreme heat that was coming off of Choso. He was all around you, exploring your shapes with touches so tender, you couldn’t help but feel worshipped. The way he touched you, the way he kissed and drank every inch of your skin made your heart rumble against your ribcage. He went down, tracing the ups and downs of your figure with wet, sloppy stamps of his lips until he reached your thighs – both of which he kissed with as much attention.

It was intoxicating. Kamo felt as if everything around him twirled and he was drowning in the soft feeling of your plush skin. The curves of you filled every bit of his mind. Addicting, you were, so addicting he couldn’t find a strength to pull back and before he knew it, his tongue was already lapping at your clit. The beautiful melody of your moans filling his ears as he worked his mouth over the puffy bud, sucking and licking simultaneously. Waves and waves of pleasure you felt, spreading from your core and reaching every part of you. It was hot, it was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh god, Choso~” you were whining, a surprise to you cause up until this time you would swear you’re not the one to make such lewd noises during sex. All of that went out the window when it came to the man between your legs. He was flicking his tongue, twirling it and pressing it flat; every movement centered and focused, sharing one objective – to abuse the most sensitive, sweet spot on your body. He took his time, it was wet and sloppy, it was messy. The silky sensation of his tongue, warm and soft… oh, man has a talent.

Your breath was stuttering, hands grabbing the fluffy fibers of the carpet as your thighs were trembling and the urge to squeeze them over Choso’s head was slowly becoming irresistible. The way he was making out with your clit drove you insane, it brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You came undone and you came hard. He wasn’t stopping, just slowing down and leading you through the high as if it was his job and the very core of his existence.

“Feeling warmer?” He asked, once slowly coming back up above you. His face was now a real painting, covered with your essence and his lips, swollen and wet, stretched into a grin of satisfaction as he was taking in the sight of your breathless form. You nodded, barely registering the subtle teasing undertone he had in his voice. “Good. But I’m going to make you even hotter.”

[gottencents]

FLAMENCO - Jennie Kim

pairing. idol!jennie x bp!added member!reader

synopsis. Jennie drunkenly confesses her long-time feelings for Y/N

The after-party was in full swing, and the cozy vibe of the private lounge was filled with laughter and music. Blackpink had decided to celebrate the end of their promotions with a small, casual gathering. It was supposed to be a chill night, but after a few drinks, it was clear that things were about to get a lot more interesting.

You were sitting on a couch, sipping water while watching the scene unfold. Lisa was dramatically performing a dance routine in the middle of the room while Jisoo cheered her on, filming everything for blackmail purposes. Rosé was leaning back on an armchair with a glass of champagne, laughing at Lisa’s antics.

And then there was Jennie.

Usually calm and collected, Jennie had been sipping wine quietly for most of the night… until now.

“Y/NNNN!” Jennie’s voice called out, louder than usual, as she made her way toward you with slightly unsteady steps, a bright, goofy smile lighting up her face.

You blinked in surprise. “Jennie? Are you okay?”

Jennie plopped down beside you, immediately snuggling into your side, her head resting heavily on your shoulder.

“I’m perfect,” she slurred with a giggle. “Actually, no… I’m not perfect. But you are. You’re so pretty, Y/N. Like, stupidly pretty.”

You chuckled, glancing at Rosé, who raised an eyebrow and smirked behind her glass. “Uh… thanks, Jennie.”

Jennie sat up slightly, her face just inches from yours. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and fondness. “Nooo, you don’t get it. I’ve been thinking it forever—you’re the prettiest person in the whole world. And I see a lot of pretty people!”

“Wow,” Rosé chimed in, grinning. “She’s really laying it on thick, huh?”

“Shhhh, Rosie!” Jennie waved her hand in Rosé’s direction, missing entirely and nearly falling back onto you. “Don’t interrupt me. I’m confessing important things right now.”

Rosé leaned forward, clearly enjoying the show. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare stop you. Go on, Jen. Tell Y/N everything.”

You laughed nervously, trying to calm Jennie down. “Okay, okay. Maybe you’ve had enough to drink?”

Jennie pouted dramatically, clutching your arm like a lifeline. “Nooooo, don’t send me away! I’m cozy here. And you smell nice.” She nuzzled into your shoulder, mumbling something about how soft your sweater was.

Rosé nearly choked on her drink, covering her mouth as she tried to contain her laughter. “Oh my god, Jennie’s in full clingy mode. You’re in trouble, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” you said, patting Jennie’s back gently.

Jennie looked up at you with wide, slightly glassy eyes. “Y/N… do you like me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “W-What?”

“I like you,” Jennie said, her voice barely a whisper. “A lot. Like, more than friends.”

Rosé’s eyes widened, her grin growing even bigger. “Ohhh, this just got interesting.”

“Rosé!” you hissed, your face heating up.

“What? I’m just here for moral support,” Rosé said innocently, taking another sip of her champagne.

Jennie didn’t seem to notice the chaos around her. She just kept looking at you with those soft, earnest eyes. “I’m serious. You’re my favorite person, Y/N. You make everything better.”

Your heart melted a little at her words, even if they were fueled by alcohol. “Jennie, you’re… really sweet. But maybe we should talk about this when you’re, you know, sober?”

Jennie nodded slowly, her eyelids growing heavy. “Mmm… okay. But only if you promise not to run away from me tomorrow.”

“I won’t run away,” you promised softly. “I’ll be right here.”

Satisfied, Jennie let out a content sigh and snuggled back into your shoulder, completely at ease. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady.

Rosé leaned over, giving you a knowing look. “Well, that was cute.”

“Cute and chaotic,” you muttered, adjusting Jennie so she was more comfortable.

“Hey,” Rosé said with a wink, “if she remembers this tomorrow, you’ve got a love confession on your hands.”

You glanced down at Jennie’s peaceful face and smiled. Maybe this night wasn’t so chaotic after all.

The kitchen was peaceful—until it wasn’t.

Jennie sat across from you, her face a mix of embarrassment and quiet panic, still trying to process everything Rosé had just exposed.

“I… meant it,” Jennie finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve liked you for a while now. I guess I’ve just been too scared to say anything—until last night, apparently.”

Before you could respond, Lisa strolled into the kitchen, munching on an apple. “Ohoho, what did I just walk into?” she asked, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Jennie’s confession part two,” Rosé answered with a mischievous grin, leaning casually against the counter.

Lisa gasped dramatically, nearly dropping her apple. “Wait, she remembers confessing?”

“Kind of,” Jennie muttered, shooting Rosé a half-hearted glare. “And you’re not helping, by the way.”

Jisoo appeared next, still in her pajamas, clearly intrigued by the growing commotion. “What’s going on? Why does Jennie look like she got caught stealing snacks at midnight?”

“She confessed to Y/N last night,” Rosé said, her eyes twinkling. “Very clingy, very cute. And apparently, she meant every word.”

Jisoo’s face lit up. “Finally! I was wondering how long it would take for one of you to say something!”

You blinked. “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course!” Jisoo said, plopping into a chair beside you. “Jennie’s been obvious for months. Every time you walk into a room, she starts smiling like an idiot.”

“Do not,” Jennie protested weakly, covering her face again.

“Do too,” Lisa chimed in. “Remember that one time Y/N brought you coffee, and you couldn’t stop talking about how thoughtful it was—for, like, two days?”

“That was just nice!” Jennie said defensively.

“Sure it was,” Lisa teased. “Totally normal to write a thank-you text that long for a coffee.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the warmth of the moment easing any lingering tension. Jennie peeked through her fingers again, her eyes meeting yours. Despite all the teasing, there was still something earnest in her gaze, waiting for your reaction.

“Well,” you said, leaning your elbow on the counter, “since it’s apparently a group meeting now, I’ll just say this: I like you too, Jennie.”

The room went quiet for a split second—then chaos erupted.

Rosé clapped her hands together excitedly. “YES! Finally!”

Lisa whooped, holding her hand out for a high five with Jisoo. “It’s about time! We’ve been waiting for this plot twist.”

Jisoo smirked. “I knew it. I should’ve made a bet on this.”

Meanwhile, Jennie’s face went from shocked to shy, her lips curling into a soft smile. “You… really like me?”

“I do,” you said, your voice steady despite the noise around you. “I’ve liked you for a while too. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

Jennie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Wow. Okay. This is… good. This is really good.”

“Oh, it’s great,” Lisa teased, slinging an arm around Jennie’s shoulders. “Our Jennie finally got the girl!”

“Now we just need to come up with a cute couple name,” Rosé added, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yennie? J/N?”

“Can we not?” Jennie groaned, though her smile betrayed her.

Jisoo tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Oh no, it’s happening. We’ll workshop it.”

As the playful bickering continued, Jennie leaned closer to you, her voice dropping just low enough for only you to hear.

“I’m really glad I said something,” she admitted softly. “Even if it took a little liquid courage.”

“Me too,” you replied, your smile mirroring hers. “But next time, maybe skip the wine and just tell me, okay?”

Jennie chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Deal.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of laughter and teasing, but through it all, Jennie stayed close, her hand occasionally brushing yours under the table.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly right.

[pinkslipxox]

heyyy how are u??

i have a request but pls just ignore this if you think its gonna be boring: for tattoo artist!billie we go to her studio (we could be nervous for it or confident idk u decide. maybe the tattoo is really meaningful to the reader? like a medusa tattoo? or it can be random if u don't wanna write that obviously). we get along really well, and it's all a little flirty and we have her number by the end of it. overall its just really soft and wholesome and cute.

hola, mami! Im good and you? Ugh yes of course! Hope you like it 🙈❤️

——————————————————————————

You walk into the tattoo parlor, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach. It's your first tattoo, and though you know exactly what you want—a Medusa, with the snakes wrapping around your arm, looking both fierce and beautiful—you can’t help but feel a little anxious. But as soon as you step inside, the nerves begin to melt away.

The shop is quiet, almost calming, with dark walls and dim lights giving off a cozy, intimate vibe. And there, behind the counter, is Billie. She’s leaning against it, wearing a loose hoodie and a beanie, but even in the casual look, she exudes an undeniable coolness. She gives you a soft smile when she sees you. Her eyes are warm, the kind that immediately makes you feel like you’ve known her for much longer than just a few seconds.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says with a light, teasing grin. “You here for your first tattoo?”

You nod, a little embarrassed by the flutter in your chest at the way she calls you “sweetheart.” It’s silly, but it makes you feel… special.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling your hands twitch nervously at your sides. “I’ve been wanting this for so long, but I’m kinda nervous.”

Billie steps toward you, her demeanor softening, her voice becoming gentle. “It’s totally normal to feel nervous. I’ll take good care of you, promise.” She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch light but warm, making your heart race in the most unexpected way. “Why don’t you come sit in my chair? I’ll show you the design I have in mind for your Medusa.”

You follow her to the back of the shop, where the tattoo station is set up. The buzzing of the machines fills the air, but Billie’s presence is so calming that the sound feels distant, almost like white noise. She pulls up the design on her tablet, showing you the intricate details—the sharp eyes of Medusa, the curling snakes that seem to almost move on the screen.

“That look good to you?” Billie asks, leaning in a little closer, her breath warm against your skin. You feel her gaze on you, studying your expression carefully, waiting for your approval.

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. “It’s perfect.”

“Good,” she says softly, stepping back. “I’ll get the stencil on you and then we can get started, alright?”

The process begins, and as she works, you’re surprised by how gentle she is. Her hands are steady, her movements sure, and she talks to you softly, keeping your mind distracted from the slight sting of the needle.

“Tell me if you need a break,” she says, glancing up at you. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. You’re so brave.”

You blush at the sweet compliment, the heat creeping up your neck. She notices, a knowing glint in her eye, but she doesn’t tease. Instead, she smiles at you with so much warmth, it feels like the room is brighter just because she’s near you. Her fingers brush against your skin as she adjusts the stencil, and the small touch sends a thrill through you.

As the session progresses, the two of you chat easily, laughing about silly things, trading stories. It’s almost like you’ve known each other for ages. And every now and then, Billie will drop a playful comment, like when she calls you “sweetheart” in that soft, melodic voice, or when she nudges you lightly with her elbow.

“You’re being so good, sweetheart,” she murmurs after a while, her tone affectionate, almost proud. “I swear, you’re making this way easier than it should be.”

Your heart skips again, a little faster this time, but you try to brush it off as the tattoo begins to take shape on your arm.

By the time she finishes, you’re in awe of the work. The Medusa looks as fierce and beautiful as you’d imagined. Billie steps back, looking at it with a satisfied smile. “How do you feel?”

“I love it,” you say, looking at your arm, your heart soaring. “It’s perfect. You’re amazing.”

She grins, that same affectionate, slightly mischievous look in her eyes. “Well, I do have a bit of a talent for making things perfect,” she says with a wink, but her voice is soft, warm. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.”

She grabs a piece of paper and jots down her number. “In case you need anything else, or if you just wanna chat. I can always be your tattoo emergency contact.” She hands it to you with a wink, and your heart flutters again.

You smile, a little shy. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

Billie gives you a soft, affectionate smile, her eyes full of something unspoken. “I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart. Take care of that tattoo, yeah?”

You nod, still floating from the way she makes you feel, from the way she’s treated you—so kind, so soft, so genuinely sweet. “I will,” you reply, and as you leave the shop, you feel a warmth that goes beyond the tattoo, a warmth that feels like the start of something special.

And you can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of a beautiful, unexpected connection between the two of you.

[luvt0kki]

005 | the morning after

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

I can't stop and look the other way 'Cause I know what could be, babe And you never feel the same You'd be thinkin' 'bout it every day Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies

🎧: you right - Doja Cat

previous | 005| next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader

w.c : 8.4k ( sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , peeping Tom! Wooyoung, masturbation, footjob, footsies, edging, some fluff ig, orgasm denial

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : CHAPTER 5! I FINALLY WROTE A VERSION OF CHAPTER 5 that I LIKE!!! Sorry for the long wait. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I AWAIT YOUR REACTIONS HEHEH. make sure to leave comments about your thoughts and reactions! You can do this in my askbox too huhu!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Seonghwa flinched at the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. He couldn’t even sip his morning coffee at the clamor in the kitchen, the usual cozy peace he had before everyone else woke up was disrupted. Usually, the chef was quiet, gilding around the kitchen with ease as he made breakfast for the crew.

But today, he was…off.

Seonghwa placed his coffee mug back on the dining table before turning his gaze to the kitchen, seeing the cause of the noise appearing frustrated yet spaced out at the same time. Some kind of weird autopilot.

What was up with him?

Usually, the vice-captain would ask what’s wrong but Wooyoung’s knitted brows and expression of deep yet stressful contemplation made him believe it was best to just observe him and figure it out for himself. If Wooyoung was troubled, he knew that he could always come to any of them.

When the other members gathered except for you and Yeosang, they too quickly noticed the change in mood of their playful, energetic chef.

“What’s up with him?” Jongho asked, frowning as Wooyoung hissed when he held the skillet the wrong way. He’s never this reckless in his domain, his sacred kitchen.

Seonghwa only sighed in response, crossing his legs with poise and shaking his head.

Yunho, the gentle soul that he was still decided to check on Wooyoung, hopefully, his calm gleeful energy could make the younger member feel better.

“You okay there, Woo?” He called over from the table.

Not looking up from the pans on the stove, he responded, more like muttered his response. “M’fine.”

What a lie. He wasn’t fine they all could catch the vibe from him.

They all exchanged glances and kept their mouths shut, letting Wooyoung serve this morning's breakfast while the rest of them carried on as if nothing was wrong.

“Go on,” Wooyoung huffed, taking his seat at the table and picking up a fork. “Eat up.”

Was all he said to them and nothing more. He was quiet but he listened to their conversation, Mingi stared at him long wondering what exactly it was that was bothering him.

“Morning,” Yeosang’s deep voice chimed warmly. Wooyoung didn’t raise his head at his best friend’s voice and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes a little at his lack of interaction.

Right after his arrival, Jongho let out a low whistle as the last person to arrive at the dining table finally appeared.

“You look very pretty this morning, princess.” Jongho complimented, drinking in your delightful appearance. “That’s a new number I haven’t seen before.”

San glanced at Wooyoung sat beside him who was staring really hard into his bowl of fried rice.

“She looks good enough to eat,” Mingi tilted his head, getting a good look at his baby

“Thank Yeosang for the new set.” You giggled, sauntering in with a subtle sway of your hips, knowing your lovers were enjoying your morning look.

Wooyoung, unable to hold back from looking your way, took a small peek, the promise of this ‘new set’ tempting him too easily.

The moment he did, he wished he hadn’t.

You walked to his kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee in a new silk slip with thin straps. Different from the night before. The hem of the dress was short, way above mid-thigh, and tastefully stopping before where your thigh and ass meet. It was lined with white lace lilies that complimented the periwinkle silk. The straps were thin and he remembered the way they fell off your shoulders last night. Flowing as you stride past them was a sheer white lace robe, draped over your shoulders and floating dreamily with your movements.

Like all the men on that table, they all watched you as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, admiring the teasing view of your backside.

“Thanks, Yeosang.” Mingi bit his lip, eying the curve of your ass covered by the pretty silk.

Wooyoung immediately looked away and continued to eat blankly as you joined the table, sitting across from him.

How lucky was he?

Mingi draped his arm on the back of your chair as if to mark his territory to Wooyoung, unaware that he had seen you and Yeosang fucking last night.

“You look very beautiful, dove.” Seonghwa smiled softly and you could see how his eyes were blown with desire as he took in your lingerie-clad body.

“She looks like a bride the morning after her honeymoon,” Yunho joked, eying your exposed collarbones and the lace that lined the low neckline of the silk dress.

“Don’t give Mingi any ideas,” Jongho tutted, taking a bite of his meal and looking around the table, stopping at San who looked at you intensely. “Hey, San, snap out of it. I’m going to beat all of you to it.” He challenged them with confidence.

“Shut the f—,” Mingi was about to cuss the youngest out in banter but Hongjoong cut him off.

“When did you get her that, Yeosang?”

“When we stopped at Jupiter. It’s from a boutique that creates lingerie pieces for noblewomen, and princesses and provides the finest silk for the Queen Mother’s dresses.”

Wooyoung gripped his fork tight. The silk was from his home planet? He knows of the boutique Yeosang talked about and he knew how that expensive fabric felt in his fingers. He wondered how it would feel if he had the chance to caress your curves and feel the silk that kissed your skin.

“I told Yeosang I don’t need such things but he insists on his gift.” You leaned your head against Mingi.

“His gift to you is my gift,” The gunner grinned, placing a hand on your bare thigh and creeping it up high and so dangerously close to your heat, his smirk only grew when you didn’t stop him. Before he could feel what he hoped was a matching pair of silk underwear, you tapped his hand away, the big man pouting his full lips.

“Behave.” You told him before feeling San’s gaze on you. Your heart melted at the longing look in his eyes, round and sparkling. You smiled softly at him and let the slipper on your right foot slip off before running it along San’s calves, his ears immediately turning pink as he looked at you wide-eyed.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turned your attention to Wooyoung, who was very quiet.

“Morning, Woo.”

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. His name sounded even sweeter on your tongue today.

“Uh, morning.” He managed to say only giving you a quick glance and a smile which made you pout a little.

He couldn’t look you in the eye. Did he feel that guilty? About last night? Maybe you should confront him… like Yeosang said.

“Yeo?”

“Yes, my love?”

You raised your cheek from the warm chest it had rested upon. You had been listening to his heartbeat while he combed his fingers through your hair and petted you gently.

“Wooyoung…” you murmured softly, completely relaxed on top of him while his other hand traced the curve of your back.

“I just made love to you and you’re thinking of Wooyoung?” He jested, pinching your side.

“It’s not that…” you softly tapped his chest at his teasing. “He saw us.”

Yeosang was silent for a bit but was quick to reply with such nonchalance. “And?”

“He saw us.” You looked him in the eyes unable to stop the urge to trace your fingers along his pretty jaw. “He was touching himself to us.” The image of Wooyoung by the door, lips parted and panting quietly, his eyes hazy as he looked at you with such want, flashed before your mind.

“Oh? He was?” His tone was straight, unbothered by the fact.

“You never mentioned that he was a little pervert.”

“I thought your interaction in the club told you that already. He was coming onto you very strong. Bill after bill to see the heaven between your thighs.”

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, kissing the tip of his gorgeous nose. “He doesn’t know…doesn’t he?”

“Apparently not.” Yeosang kept his eyes on your face as if he was looking upon you for the very first time and was marveling at the beauty before him. “But he has picked up on the way we all look at you.”

“And what way is that?” You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone while looking into his pretty bright eyes.

Yeosang sighed deeply with a smile that could win anyone's heart even the Gods perhaps. He wrapped his arms around you and you melted against him, your cheek pressed once more to his chest as he kissed your forehead. He didn’t have to say it for you to know.

“What do we do about Woo?” You murmured after a comfy pause.

“He’s very much attracted to you, my love. Wooyoung, despite his playful flirtatious nature and his very…colorful sexual escapades. He never ever pursues nor beds a woman who is taken. It’s a rule of his.” Yeosang explained, cuddling you, the soft sheets kissing your naked skin. “But if the woman lies that she isn’t taken, that’s not on him.”

You only hummed at the piece of information about his best friend. Wooyoung’s rule was fair enough.

“Since he was the son of a Duke, he had more freedom than I had. Whenever I’d visit, the young maids in the Jung manor changed with each return.”

You made a face, one that made the former Prince smile fondly. “It’s because he was…”

“Messing around with them, yes.” Yeosang chuckled at the memory. “One time, I had caught him in our palace grounds stables getting head from one of my mother’s handmaidens.”

“And were you some Casanova back in the day too?” You traced the line between his pecs.

“I’ve had my fair share of experiences in masquerades or in empty rooms at official balls. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious,” you rolled your eyes a little. “You’re only saying that because it’s what you think I might want to hear.”

“Oh darling,” he pouted his lips in jest before kissing your forehead, his hand never ceasing its caress on your naked back. “Are you jealous?”

Yeosang watched as your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. It was cute and he knew you were just going to try to deny it.

“Maybe….just a little.”

“I was jealous of you and San once.” He confessed, wanting to wipe away your anxiety masked by jealousy.

“W-what why?” You blinked up at him.

“Because you were each other’s firsts. Even though San confessed after you and Mingi got together. He was still your first. First hug. First kiss. Oh, and you’re very first.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately felt heat bloom in your cheeks. “San told you?” You murmured shyly, remembering that time. Both of you only had each other at that time and in that mission, you both believed you were going to die. Consumed with unspoken desire and love that was hidden from each other verbally, you two had gotten intimate, letting actions and your bodies express what you both felt.

“San has loved you the longest, my darling. It just took him a while and you and Mingi being together to finally get him to say it.”

Your heart felt full. It felt as if it was going to explode with all the emotions and love you had for them. “I love you, Yeosang.” You said softly, looking him in his angelic eyes. “I love all of you so very much.”

“Though all of us have our own ways of showing it, we love you too. I love you.”

You kissed his soft lips and he kissed you back, sealing the romantic moment you two shared. You giggled as you pulled away.

“Now back to our Wooyoung,” Yeosang thought of his best friend.

“Our?” You raised a brow.

“He wants you, darling.”

“Sure he wants me but he’s not mine nor am I his like I’m yours and you’re mine. He probably only wants to fuck.”

“And you’re not opposed to the idea?”

You paused, thinking of your answer even though you immediately wanted to say no, you just didn’t want to seem too eager. But you didn’t have to hide from Yeosang. Never had to.

“No, I’m not…” you sighed, feeling a little guilty as you thought about your lovers. All of them. “It’s not that all of you aren’t enough—

“I know darling,” he stopped you before you could worry and spiral. “We all have noticed the way Wooyoung acts around you. In fact, the night you returned and you and Mingi…retired for the evening, the rest of us stayed back to discuss Wooyoung when he went to bed. Assuming he did go to bed and didn’t watch you and Mingi have sex.”

You made a mental note to ask the peeping Tom if he did see you that first night before continuing to listen to Yeosang’s pretty voice.

“Wooyoung saw us and he doesn’t know that we are all your lovers.”

“God, he must think I’m cheating on Mingi or something.” You huffed, rolling off of Yeosang to lie on your back. "Or that I'm some whor-"

Yeosang shushed you shaking his head. It would hurt him deeply if that was the way you thought of yourself.

“You could either confront him and ask him what he wants from you.”

“Very straightforward,” You narrowed your eyes at him. “But your smile is telling me there is another option.”

“Or…”Yeosang grinned, propping himself to crawl on top of you, his dark locks of hair framing his handsome face. He slotted his hips between your legs as he leaned down to kiss along your collarbones while his hands caressed your sides, the silk beneath his palms smooth against your skin.“You can have some fun keeping him on his toes."

Pausing your little innocent footsie play with San, who frowned when you stopped, you decided to turn your attention to the man sitting across from you, next to your pouting lover.

Maybe giving him a hint and teasing him a bit would reassure him that you didn’t hate him or anything…and maybe push him to finally confront you or take action with his attraction for you.

“We’ll be arriving in Gevora by the morrow. As I’ve discussed with Y/N, one of the pieces of the Cromer, we’ve found out, is going to be auctioned.” Hongjoong was speaking to you as you raise your coffee cup to your lips while gliding your foot up Wooyoung’s calf. “It’s a highly private auction with wealthy attendees which also means it’s definitely—,”

“Illegal.” Jongho finished for the Captain, clicking his tongue as all of it made sense. “So what’s the plan?”

Wooyoung tensed visibly, his other leg jumping at your sudden touch, his knee banging against the underside of the table.

“You okay, Woo?” Jongho asked, raising a brow at the wide-eyed former noble.

Wooyoung finally met your gaze as they all stared at him. He was met with such a neutral expression from you as if you weren’t running your foot up his leg in a way that made shivers run down his spine and send heat straight to his groin.

“U-uh I’m fine…” he was trying to remain composed while he screamed in his head at what on earth you were doing. “Just lost in thought.” He played it off, earning a very subtle smile of approval from you as you sipped your coffee so casually.

“So what’s your plan, Captain?” You took the boys' attention from him, Hongjoong staring at you with a subtle glint in his eyes at how you effortlessly addressed him with a sultry tone.

“The good ol’ hit ‘em before they know it.” He replied, his eyes locked with yours as he knew that look you had in them all too well. That teasing yet magnetic gaze. You must be in a playful mood today. “San and Jongho will infiltrate the storage area while Y/N and Wooyoung will attend the auction to give San and Jongho enough time to retrieve it.”

“M-me?” Wooyoung stuttered, Hongjoong unaware of how your foot now brushed Woo’s inner thigh. The man in front of you swallowed the lump in his throat. What were you doing? He panicked.

“I’d send Yeosang but the attendees would know his face easily. So you’re Y/N’s lucky partner for the heist.”

“You don’t have to worry much, Woo. San and Jongho will have most of the action if things don’t go south. I’ll lead, and you,” you pressed your foot gently against Wooyoung’s hardening cock, fighting your smile at his somewhat pained yet turned-on expression. “Just follow.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, opting to give a nod of acknowledgment because if he had opened his mouth, he’d risk a very out of place sound at the breakfast table.

“Mingi will be monitoring the perimeter from the building across the venue. Ready to snipe should anyone intercept San or Jongho.”

Hongjoong went on but Wooyoung was struggling to focus. He could hear everything he was saying and he was taking note mentally of all the important details but the way your foot palmed at his painfully hard cock through his sweats was making his head spin. “Yunho will be driving the getaway van and Yeosang will bring his gear with him to hack into the security system in the van."

“And you and Hwa?” You leaned your head on Mingi’s shoulder, pressing just a little more, the perfect amount as you glide your foot against his cock. Wooyoung gripped the fabric of his sweats to ground himself. He tried to meet your eyes but you were conversing with everyone as if you weren’t giving him a fucking footjob between Yeosang and Mingi, and with San next to him.

“Hongjoong and I will take out two guards beforehand and take their uniform so that San and Jongho can easily get in.” Seonghwa answered you. “It should go pretty smoothly but we will act quickly should there be any…unexpected surprises.”

“I just hope I get to see you two in uniform,” you chuckled playfully, thinking of how lovely the sight would be. Despite the two eldest’s left behind military past, they have shared with you the official portraits of their time there. Strikingly handsome those two were. They even gave you the photographs for you to keep after they had noticed how long you stared at them in awe.

“Maybe you will,” Hongjoong smirked, winking at you playfully making you blush and laugh.

Wooyoung wondered how you were able to act like that... all effortless and pretty while you were rubbing his cock under the table. He was fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your foot for more friction. It felt good…so good. He could feel his precum dampening his boxers.

“Baby, eat something while you drink your coffee,” Mingi chided lightly, putting sweet buttered toast on your plate, berries and some cream.

You smiled at the care he was giving you, never ceasing the languid caress you were giving Wooyoung’s hard cock, and turned to Mingi. “Thank you, baby.” You tilted your chin up a little, the bigger man grinning before leaning down to peck you on the lips.

“Get a room.” Jongho fake gagged.

“Gladly,” Mingi smirked and deepened the kiss to irk the youngest even more.

Wooyoung’s cock throbbed at the sight of your plush lips against Mingi’s and the way they moved against his. You were the first to pull away, smiling so sweetly up at Mingi and pinching his cheek.

“I’ll start packing up my gear,” Yeosang announced to the group, taking his empty plate and getting up. He patted your head before discarding his plate in the sink.

“Me too.” Yunho chirped, doing the same as Yeosang.

“You guys can go ahead,” you told Hongjoong and Seonghwa who also were done with their breakfast. “Wooyoung and I will clear up.”

“Thank you, dove.” Seonghwa smiled, stacking his and Hongjoong’s plates before going about their personal schedules and preparation.

“You okay, Woo?” San suddenly asked.

“H-huh?” The man croaked out, his fist clenched tightly out of sight.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He frowned, his cat eyes trying to read his expression. “Are you in pain?”

Mingi and Jongho looked at Wooyoung worriedly while you had the audacity to pout your lips teasingly and bat your lashes at him, still rubbing his cock with your foot making the pressure in the base of his spine tightened further.

“Leg cramp.” Wooyoung shakily replied, forcing a smile. “I-I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. This is why you should stretch after a workout. I told you ‘cool down’ is important.” San light-heartedly reprimanded, getting up and excusing himself from the breakfast table, leaving you, Woo, Mingi, and Jongho.

“What dress do you plan to wear to the bourgeois auction?” Jongho asked, sipping his coffee.

“I haven’t thought about that yet.” You hummed crossing your arms under your chest which pushed your breasts up and together, that teasing dip of cleavage along with the strokes you gave his cock, making Wooyoung’s head spin.

“How about the navy blue one?” Mingi suggested, playing with your hair as he took the last bites of his breakfast.

“That one’s too short, baby. Not very auction-y.”

“That one’s too flashy.” Jongho agreed. “It’s more of a night out dress. How about that red one?”

You glanced at Wooyoung and noticed how he was trying hard to steady his breaths in a way it was not noticeable by the other two men and you could see a vein in his neck beginning to pop out as his cock throbbed. His brows knitted together and his head was facing his lap, almost looking like he was in deep thought or trying to relax from the pain of his ‘leg cramp’.

He was close. He was so fucking close. Wooyoung hissed as he felt his climax near. All caution was ready to be thrown out the window as he reveled at your touch and the sight of you. Maybe he didn’t fucking care if he came in his boxers. How did Jongho and Mingi not even know what you were up to?

“Ohhh, that red one.” Your touch left him, the pleasure he had been feeling, that tightening sensation at the base of his spine as he got close to release, was ripped away from him.

“Fuck!” Wooyoung exclaimed, fist banging on the table making the two men look at him questioningly at his frustrated cry.

His head was thrown back at the ache of being denied climax. To the two men, it looked as if his leg cramp had gotten worse. Wooyoung leaned his elbows on the table, his hands gripping his hair as he breathed heavily. He looked through the thin curtain of his messy locks over to eyes to look at you. Your glossy lips were upturned slightly, almost tauntingly and your eyes glimmered with mischief, finding entertainment in his predicament.

“Dude, Wooyoung.” Jongho looked at him worriedly and a little confused. “You should get that leg cramp checked with Yunho if it’s that bad.”

“Yeah, we can’t have you pulling a muscle or getting cramps on the mission,” Mingi added. “You both can’t compromise your covers.”

Your legs returned to yourself and you crossed your left over your right. Will Wooyoung finally make a move after this? How far did you need to push him to finally have him confront you? How much self-control does he even have?

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mingi. I know you two have some preparations to do for the mission. So go ahead, and I’ll clear up here while Wooyoung…rests.” You told the two men, smiling at them reassuringly.

“But I kinda do wanna get a room with you though,” Mingi murmured, eying you with desire. “Just a little y’know…quickie.”

“I thought you were back to baseline Mingi libido.”

“God.” Jongho groaned getting up and grabbing Mingi by the ear, completely unafraid of the much taller man. “You’re a fucking horn dog man. It may not seem like it outside but it’s 9 am in the fucking morning. Keep your wandering hands to yourself.”

Mingi’s eyes rounded in a childlike way, turning to you as Jongho was dragging him out of the kitchen.

“I’ll just clean up here and you'll have me soon enough.” You blew him a kiss, letting Jongho and his god-like strength pull him away.

You were amused they didn’t catch on…did they really buy the leg cramp?

Once they were out of earshot, you turned to Wooyoung.

He was slumped against his chair, finally letting himself breathe. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and his whole body was hot with need. Struggling to compose himself, he looked at you.

His eyes had a hazy look in them, it was the same gaze you saw last night. His pupils were blown with lust, his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted as he softly panted.

Wooyoung stared. He blinked a couple of times to make his eyes focus on you. A part of him was annoyed that you just looked so neutral as if everything was okay. You had that small smile on your lips whenever you two spoke and that gentle captivating gaze that made one feel that what they had to say was very important to you. But right now, that gentle demure look taunted him.

“Your leg cramp must be really bad,” you finally spoke. “You should relax, Woo.” You got up and started to stack the empty plates on one another. “I’ll go put these in the sink and wash them, okay?” You smiled sweetly, reaching across the table to get his plate as well, knowing that it would the man a view of your breasts against the lace lingerie when you dipped forward. Will he finally snap?

While you walked over to the kitchen, Wooyoung glanced down at his lap, his painfully hard cock creating a tent in his cotton sweats. He was irritated. You had the fucking audacity to smile and act as if nothing happened? After whatever the fuck you just pulled?

You observed him from the kitchen, waiting for him to make his move but the man just sat there. Rolling your eyes, you made your way to him, the soft patter of your feet on the cold floor not making him look at you.

You’ll make him look at you.

“Hey.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as something soft and warm pressed against his throbbing cock, ripping him from his thoughts and making him aware of the body perched on his lap. His eyes were wide as he met yours, confusion and surprise in them when you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me.” You whispered, running a gentle trail down the back of his neck.

“What are you—,” he started to say, trying to ignore the fact you were straddling his lap with your panty-clad pussy pressed against his cock.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” You took one of his hands, bringing it up to your chest and resting it atop your breast, making him cup the soft flesh.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, his other hand gripping your hip, using it to ground himself. His mind was screaming at the sudden closeness. The heat of your body beneath his palm, your sweet scent filling up his senses and the fact you were even touching him was making him want to really feel you, all of you.

“Do what?” You purred, bringing the hand that was on your breast away from your chest and letting his fingertips feel your warm lips.

“You know what I’m talking about Y/N.” He watched your every move, shamefully anticipating what you would do next.

“Do I?” You teased, bringing his thumb to brush your lips and before he could say another word, you took the digit in your mouth, sucking softly at it and swirling your tongue around slowly.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung muttered breathily. His mind went straight to imagining what it’d be like to have your lips around his cock right now.

You released his thumb with a soft pop, his eyes on your pink lips. “Did you like it?” You asked him, running your hands up his chest.

What were you referring to? The way you were touching him under the table? Cause if he was going to be completely honest, he did like it. He was annoyed that you edged him but he fucking loved it. Or…was it about last night?

“You could’ve gotten caught.” He didn’t move his hands from your hips. A part of him was still unsure whether he should cross the line despite you having acted as if that line didn’t exist.

“Me? I hope you mean you, Woo.” You giggled, tracing his jaw. “Leg cramp? I guess that was believable. I mean the boys bought it. Want me to make it better?” You cooed, slowly rolling your hips forward, dragging your clothed pussy against the length of his cock, earning the reaction you wanted from him.

He shivered and moaned softly.

“I didn’t let you finish, did I?” You kissed his neck, the heat of your lips making his hips buck involuntarily. You clicked your tongue. “Behave, Woo.”

Wooyoung glanced at the doorway, anxious that someone might walk in on you two. Why were you doing this?

“Answer me.” You whispered, your voice sweet like honey as you stopped moving, giving him nothing once more.

“Y-you didn’t.” He breathed out, gripping your hips fighting the urge to guide them against his cock.

“Good boy,” you slowly rolled your hips again, finding yourself growing wet at the hardness of his cock. He was so stiff. Maybe you did feel just a little bit bad that you didn’t let him cum. “But you’re not that good aren’t you?”

“H-huh?” Was all he could manage to say, too distracted and drunk at the feeling of your hips grinding your core unto his cock. The friction sent swift shocks of pleasure throughout his body.

“Don’t act dumb, Woo.” Your soft warm breath was against his ear. His heart pounded strongly in his chest as it dawned on him that you were talking about how you had caught him watching you and Yeosang last night.

Fuck.

This was your way of confronting him about it? Having him wrapped around your finger by turning him on, teasing him to no end, and torturing him with the very thing he wanted most, you.

“I-I’m sorry,” he croaked out, moaning when you licked a stripe along his neck.

“Are you really?” Your voice dipped low, one hand that had been resting on his shoulder moving down to the waistband of his sweats.

“Y/N, we shouldn’t.” In his own head, you two really shouldn’t. “Y-Yeosang—fuck.” You freed his cock from his pants and boxers, his hard length slapping against his stomach.

You bit your lip as you glanced down while you had been kissing along his jaw, the sight of the pink angry and leaking tip making you grow wetter.

“Yes. Me and Yeo.” You softly placed your fingertip on the tip, mouth watering at the precum that was leaking out and spreading the slick substance all over the head of his cock. “You’re a little pervert aren’t you?” You wrapped your hand around his length to have a feel of him. He was hot and heavy within your enclosed palm, and thick. “Did you like watching Yeo fuck me, Woo?”

You squeezed his cock gently, his head following forward and leaning on your chest as he moaned. “I did. Fuck. I did. Y/N please.”

Fuck it. He swore to himself. Fuck it all. He needed to cum, he needed you to do something. Anything. His cock was painfully hard and the unmoving touch of your hand was driving him crazy.

“I like it when you’re honest.” You hummed with a smile, getting up. Wooyoung’s hands gripped your hips in protest, feeling crazed at the thought of you leaving him high and dry again.

But you didn’t leave.

You perched yourself on the edge of the table you cleared on your own. Your hands pressed against the surface behind you, leaning on them.

“If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you cum.” You told him with a smile while batting your pretty lashes at him.

God, he just wanted to fall on his knees and kiss along your leg and worship every part of you.

Wooyoung swallowed thickly as he nodded, wincing a little as the cold draft kissed his bare cock.

“Do you hear me and Mingi fuck?” The first question of your little interrogation.

Maybe if he wasn’t so on edge and horny, he would’ve held back and lied.

Shakily, he answered, “Yes.”

You hummed as you nodded at his response, his eyes widening when you pinched the skirt of your lingerie and hiked it up high, giving him a glimpse of your matching panties.

“Do you touch yourself when you hear us?” Your second question.

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Without any shame and his eyes focused on you, your magnetic eyes drawing him in your gaze, he wrapped his hand around his cock, an action all too familiar from the fantasizing about you all this time.

You hummed seductively and with his eyes on you, you did what you had done the very first night you two met. You brought your hand to your collarbone, tracing along it, his eyes following before you led them along your shoulder, slowly and agonizingly pushing the thin strap over the edge of your shoulder. The top hem dropped slightly, showing him more of your skin beneath the lingerie, the silk clinging to the curve of your breasts.

His hand moved along his cock, slowly, doing as you said, finding no relief from it at all. Not when you had pressed your cunt against it and wrapped your own hand around him just moments ago.

You licked your lower lip, adoring the sight of Wooyoung touching himself.

“Did you ever watch Mingi and I?” You followed up your next question. “Don’t move your hand too fast. We’re not yet done.”

Wooyoung slowed his hand down, still slumped against his chair but languidly stroking his cock.

“I did.” He admitted quickly, awaiting your next move to award his honesty.

You bunched the fabric of your lingerie to your waist, slowly parting your legs to show him your matching underwear. “When?”

Wooyoung bit his lip at the sight of your clothed cunt. Was your pretty pussy really on his cock a while ago?

He breathed out shakily, the stimulation of his cock in his own hand not enough to make him cum. “The first night you returned on this ship.”

“Get up.” You instructed him. “Come to me.”

Wooyoung let go of his cock and without any thought, walked up to you, now standing between your parted thighs.

You hooked your leg around his waist as you chuckled. “Closer.”

“Y/N…I’m sorry.” He said again, letting your hands guide his in where he could touch you. Despite the situation, he didn’t feel he had the right to touch you as he wanted or as he pleased.

“You must’ve tortured yourself,” you sweetly cooed, placing one of his hands on your hip before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Just watching from afar. Not able to touch me. Is that what you want? Do you want to touch me too?”

Too? Did you think of him touching you? Has the idea of being with him crossed your mind like his mind did?

Your voice was void of the sternness it had when you had been interrogating him. It was now sweet and inviting, gentle even?

“I’ve been wanting to touch you since the night we first met.” He answered, the very honest reply taking you aback and making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, Woo,” you murmured softly, bringing closer til the underside of his cock was against your clothed core again. “If you wanted me, you should’ve just said so.”

What did you mean? He couldn't have you in the first place because you were someone else's to hold.

Why was your heart melting so easily for him? You had been sure what you had felt for Wooyoung and what he felt for you was nothing but desire. Just lust. And yet, you were being as sweet as you were with all your lovers.

“Y/N…”He squeezed your hips, his forehead resting atop the crown of your own head, getting a whiff of the scent of your shampoo. He needed to fucking cum. It was taking everything in him right now to not hump his cock against your clothed heat. “Please.”

“I like it when you beg.” You softly whispered before leaning back and propping yourself on your elbows, his eyes raking you up and down your body. “Since you were so honest….” He watched as your hand guided his cock this o where you wanted him.

His breath hitched when you slipped his cock beneath your silk panties, the smooth fabric making him shiver. His cock throbbed when he realized the silk was slightly damp and slick.

“You can’t put it in though.” You told him, guiding the tip of his cock along your slit coating him with your wetness.

Wooyoung stared at where you two were touching. You were moving his cock head between your plush pussy lips and a part of him could’ve died at the way you softly moaned when you circled his tip around your clit.

Was this really happening?

He was snapped from his thoughts when your hand left his cock, your silk panties softly smacking against his length.

His cock was between your silk underwear and your bare heat. Fuck. Was he dreaming? He stared at the shape of his length beneath the fabric. Something about the sight was so sinfully pleasing to his eyes.

Placing his hands over your hips with his thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, he slowly moved his hips forward and back, his cock slotted between your lower lips.

You softly moaned as his length rubbed your clit. Languidly, taking his sweet time and drinking in the sight and feeling of his cock on your pussy, Wooyoung didn’t care that he wasn’t inside you. This was just as good. In fact, better than he could ever imagine.

With his thumb, he pressed his length against you a little bit more, applying pressure on your clit and making you whimper. Fuck. Hearing you like this was better than from afar. His eyes were glued to how his cock pushed against the fabric of your underwear, bulging against it and slowly it became more sheer as his precum and your wetness mixed together.

"Woo,” you moaned so sweetly, gentle strong shocks of pleasure rolling through your body.

He moved his hips a little faster, making your hips wriggle in his hold and moan again. Eventually, the sliding of his cock against your wet folds made soft obscene slick sounds. Only you two could hear it.

“Fuck, you feel so good against me.” Wooyoung groaned softly, his core growing hotter at the fact your cunt was drooling all over his cock. He sped up just a little bit more, making the two of you moan in bliss as your clit got stimulated by his hot and heavy length.

The sight of his pink tip faintly shown through the damp wet patch on your underwear was something he wished he could take a picture of for memory. Wooyoung panted. He wanted you so bad. Every sigh and sound of pleasure from your lips caused by him, made him fall even more for you.

“Don’t hold back, Woo.” You told him, softly yelping when his cock rubbed your clit a certain way making your thighs shake. “I-,” you began shakily, lying back down fully on the table, the delicious feeling of his cock making you fall apart so easily. “I want you to cum.”

“Fuck. Don’t say things like that,” he groaned, rutting his hips at just the right pace.

“Make a mess, Woo. I don’t care.” You bucked your hips upwards wanting to feel your own release.

“Fuck it.” He hissed, continuing to fuck against your panties and cunt surprisingly passionately.

You whimpered and slid your hands over your body, the movement making his eyes snap away briefly from where you two were touching. One of your hands softly wrapped around his wrist while the other cupped and squeezed your right breast. You were driving him crazy.

Wooyoung’s breathing grew erratic as that coil in the base of his spine tightened further and further. The slick wet sounds of your pussy along with your soft whimpers and moans egged him on, and he began to swear under his breath.

He can’t believe this was happening. Your moans grew higher in pitch and breathier.

“Oh my god, Woo, please.” Fuck. You sounded so sweet and perfect begging.

“I’ve got you—f-fuck, fuck, fuck,” he slowly began to lose himself, his hips moving on their own as he chased his release, the increasing speed bringing you close to the edge.

You moaned his name again. Something he thought he would never ever hear. Now that he has, he just knew it was going to haunt him forever til he can have you again.

You cried out as you came, covering your mouth with your hand as you whined at how he was still going, watching his groomed brows knit together and his eyes blink blearily down at you. His hair was a perfect swoop of mess on his head and as he reached his climax, his beautiful jaw tightened while a vein in his neck began to bulge.

He looked so handsome above you and something about the way he looked at you, made you feel something bloom and flutter in your belly.

“Ah!” A broken gasp and cry left his pink parted lips. His hips stilled, completely pressed against yours as he finally, finally, came. Hot spurts of his cum seeped through your underwear and dripped down and along your pussy, making you moan at the warmth of his release.

His mind was blank as he came, his eyes processed the sticky mess of his cock in your panties and the disheveled pretty undone mess you were on the dining table. You were panting softly at your own high, your chest rising up and down, making him stare at your breasts for a bit. Your nipples were perked and poking through the silk, and if the hem fell a little bit more he could’ve seen your pretty peaks. His eyes then moved to your pussy. He couldn’t help but hook his finger at the fabric and move it aside, still keeping his cock rested against your mound.

If he had asked…would you let him take a picture? Because the pornographic sight before him was something he wanted to imprint in his mind forever.

Wooyoung never thought that he would ever, ever, see this. His thick white cum dripped down your pink pussy, and some of it slipped over your entrance making it look like he had cum inside of you. Grabbing his cock, he moved his cum around your pussy with the tip making your hips shake at the added stimulation from the high you were still in.

This was dirty.

You propped yourself up on your elbows once more and reached down to your core. Your fingers dipped between your folds and you felt your walls squeeze around nothing at his sticky hot cum.

“You came so much…” you thought out loud, your voice slowly bringing Wooyoung back to earth.

You pressed the pad of your pointer finger against your thumb and rubbed it against one another, feeling the wet slippery mess of his cum, Wooyoung watching you hypnotically. Feeling his eyes follow your every move once more, you watched him as he watched you. He has always been watching you. But this time, you knew.

You brought your cum stained fingers to your lips and licked your digits, making Wooyoung’s mouth part just a little as a shaky breath left him. You hummed at the taste of him and it didn’t help that after you did that you met his eyes, and smirked.

“You’re really going to be the death of me, you know that.” He leaned his hands on the edge of the table, sighing.

You sat up, softly laughing, a sound that made his heart flutter. “Don’t say that. If you die, where’s the fun in that?”

That made him laugh with you, falling into this comforting and lighthearted fuzzy atmosphere. He barely even knew you. He didn’t know much except what you allowed him to know or what the other men could say about you.

Without thinking, he gently cupped your face, catching you off guard and staring at him with surprise. He didn’t say anything. He just…gazed at you in that way.

That same feeling that bubbled inside of you whenever San’s eyes smiled with his lips when he looked at you, or when Jongho held you with such care and protection whenever you two just lay down and talked with one another…when Yunho hugged you from behind whether when you two slept or when you’re doing work. When Seonghwa reads to you with your heart against his chest and your face buried in his neck under the fluffy blanket in the common room. When Mingi smiles and lets his goofy self out around you…or when Hongjoong shows you his poems and confides with you his innermost thoughts.

That special feeling of intimacy and love…what was that delicate beginning rush doing here too?

Wooyoung hasn’t been this close to you since the kitchen strawberry incident and every time he’s able to be this up close, he’s able to confirm that you’re real. That there’s warmth in your skin and that your gorgeous smile was something he could see every day.

“I…” he began, feeling his words get stuck in his throat. He was confused. He tucked himself back into his sweats and offered you a small smile. “I’ll clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, glancing at the doorway. The double doors were still closed. Maybe you should tell him the truth. About you and Mingi, Yeosang, and everyone else.

He returned with a soft towel. "May I?”

“Mhm.”

This was Jung Wooyoung.

Despite his burning desires, he was a caring soul and a gentleman. It’s kinda cute how slow he was to catch on but you knew the truth probably crossed his mind already and he was just in denial. It’s not everyday you meet 8 people all involved with one another intimately both physically and emotionally.

A scratching sound from the intercom interrupted the budding moment between the two of you, tearing both your attentions from each other.

“Y/N,” it was Jongho’s voice. “Hongjoong is calling you. Meet him in his office.”

You sighed softly, letting Woo clean off the cum that had landed on your lower abdomen. “Duty calls.” You hopped off the table.

“You’re a busy lady.” He chuckled, whipping his head away when he saw you shimmying your underwear down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to go into Hongjoong’s office with cum stained underwear, Woo.” You huffed, stepping out of the fabric.

“Going commando is the better choice?”

“It’s not nice to keep the Captain waiting if I go get changed. I’ll just chuck it in the laundry room on the way there. My basket is already there anyway.” You shrugged and then smiled at him sweetly. “I’ll see you around, peeping Tom.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung defensively yelled.

You skipped out of the dining kitchen room.

What the fuck just happened?

“Oh, you’re all here?” All the men except Wooyoung were in the captain’s office when you arrived.

“You can brief Wooyoung for me later,” Hongjoong said as you walked into the room, standing next to Jongho who was sitting on the end of the three-seater couch facing his desk.

“Did his cramp get better?” Yeosang asked, standing next to San.

“Oh? He’s fine now. Don’t worry.” You answered, looking at Seonghwa who with his hand gestured for you to come closer to the desk where a digital map was laid out before you.

“This is the perimeter of the venue. It’s some rich Lord’s mansion. Since pretty important wealthy no good doers will be there, I’m sure the security will be tight.” Hongjoong began the briefing. Your eyes followed his pretty fingers as he pointed around the map.

You leaned forward a little to get a better look.

The sound of someone choking on their water, made yours, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa’s head snap to where it came from.

The pink-haired gunner was coughing and Yunho was giggling while rubbing comforting circles on his friend’s back. While San was staring at you adorably with wide eyes and Yeosang was pressing his lips together to stop his smile.

"Sweetheart..." San's ear turned pink.

“Y/N, you’re going to kill Mingi one day,” Jongho said, his eyes focused on you, his legs spread wide on the couch as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Huh? Why?” You blinked, tilting your head.

“Don’t you think a mission briefing is the wrong time to go commando?”

Now it was the Captain and Vice Captain’s turn to look at you with pleasant surprise. You felt the heat crawl up your neck and into your face.

“Oh, I…” For Wooyoung’s sake, you’d say a little white lie. “I must’ve forgotten…oops?”

Hongjoong shook his head fighting back a smile and grabbed his captain’s coat before going to where you were stood. From behind, he wrapped his coat sleeves around your waist securely. “Naughty little kitty.” He whispered only for you to hear, giving you a subtle quick kiss on the shoulder before returning to his spot.

“Y/N is not good for Mingbido.” Yunho chuckled.

“Mingi—what?” Seonghwa made a face.

“Mingbido,” Yunho repeated. “Mingi libido.”

“God damn it.” Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys are so lame.”

“Hey! Speak kindly to your elders!” Yunho tutted, pursing his lips cutely.

“Elders? Okay, old man.” Jongho retorted.

“Hey!”

Hongjoong sighed before calling his members to his attention while you smiled at them sweetly. As much as he loved the way you looked so pretty and lovingly at them, you all have a very important agenda to attend to.

“Men. Focus!”

- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl

Taglist : @endeav0rsb1tch @eastleighsblog @scarfac3 @deadgirlwalking3 @ddaeing @lexiigom @lesyeuxdeanna @ja3hwa @prettyjewel93 @dear-dreamie @ashrocker123 @kookibuns @i2hyun0 @kpopismyescape23 @alex-tinyy @hyukssunflower @honeypaintedskies @jinnieboosworld @dawn-iscozy @moonchildushine @asjkdk @voicesinmyhead-rc @not-everything-is-so-primitive @atinytinaa @songmingisthighs @sanniesbum @angellluh @teenyfinds

@vannabanana1995 @huachengsbestie01 @lovinghologramtrash @anxiousskylar @megseungmin @chnt1 @dezmybelovedddd @khuyyn @trippoverrt @liniiiaa @caityelise99 @mismatchfluffysocks @venn-ie @unlikelysublimekryptonite @staytinyville @tinybada @awkward-fucking-thing @bloomingsann @cheesemonky @nakiiko @littlestarwoo @seventhcallisto

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader

The hangar ramp hissed open, and your boots hit the deck like you owned it. Technically, you didn't—but you were Plo Koon's former Padawan, still carrying his signature balance of unshakable calm and cutting sarcasm.

You tugged your hood down and grinned as you spotted two familiar figures on the bridge: Plo Koon, standing with serene patience, and Commander Wolffe beside him, looking like someone had just asked him to smile. Again.

"Master," you greeted with a playful bow. "Commander."

Without turning, Plo said, "You're late... again."

You smirked. "As long as I'm not late to my own funeral. You must know by now I consider this punctual."

Wolffe crossed his arms. "With your timing? It's a miracle you've not already had one."

You gave him a slow once-over. "Still charming as ever, I see. The scowl really brings out the war-torn veteran vibes. Very scarred and emotionally unavailable of you."

Wolffe didn't even flinch. "And you're still running your mouth like we've got time for it."

Before you could reply, Boost and Sinker passed behind him, lugging crates and throwing looks.

"Someone's in love," Boost sang under his breath.

"Poor Commander," Sinker added, "didn't stand a chance."

Wolffe didn't even turn around. "I can still reassign both of you to sewage detail."

You held back a laugh—barely.

"Are all your men like this now?" you asked your old Master.

Plo Koon gave a low hum. "Sassy. Grumpy. Aggressively loyal."

"So you picked them to remind you of me."

"I missed you," he said without missing a beat.

Your heart actually squeezed at that, but you covered it with, "Well, I hope you're ready, because if Commander Growl here is leading the op, I might die from sarcasm before I die from blaster fire."

Wolffe raised an eyebrow. "I don't babysit Jedi."

You stepped closer. "Good. I don't need a babysitter. I need someone who won't cry when I outrank him in sass."

He stared at you, deadpan. "You won't."

You stared back. "You sure?"

Pause.

"Unfortunately."

Plo Koon interrupted before one of you ended up biting the other. "We deploy in two hours. I expect both of you to survive long enough to get along."

You and Wolffe answered at the same time.

"No promises."

---

The landing zone was chaos.

Blaster fire lit the sky, droids rained from drop ships, and the ground was already smoking. You and Wolffe hit dirt side by side, crouched behind the smoldering wreckage of what used to be a tactical transport.

"Well," you said, deflecting a bolt with your saber, "this is cozy."

"You call this cozy?" Wolffe growled, firing a shot so clean it sent a super battle droid straight to the scrap heap.

You smirked. "I've had worse first dates."

He didn't look at you, just reloaded. "You're bleeding."

You glanced at your shoulder. Blaster graze. "A little paint off the speeder. I'm fine."

"You should patch it."

"Are you worried about me, Commander?"

"No. I just don't want to carry your dramatic ass off the battlefield."

"You mean you can't carry me."

"Try me."

Before you could sass him again, Boost's voice crackled through comms.

"Commanderrr, she's making that face again."

"You mean the one that says 'I flirt by mocking your trauma'?"

Sinker's voice joined in, deadpan: > "So... her default face."

"Copy that, shutting off comms now," Wolffe said dryly—and actually turned his comm off.

"Coward," you muttered, slashing through another droid.

But underneath all the banter, you were moving in sync. You ducked when he fired. He stepped when you struck. Like muscle memory. Like old training and shared violence. Like maybe, somehow, this shouldn't feel so... natural.

_ _ _

The op was a win. Barely.

You were bruised, bleeding, and parked on a cold medbay cot with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder. Wolffe was sitting across from you, helmet off, that glorious scar catching the sterile light.

You stared at it. Again.

"I can feel you looking at it," he grumbled, arms crossed.

"Can't help it. It's criminally hot."

He blinked. "It's a war wound."

"Exactly."

He shook his head. "You're weird."

"You're pretty," you shot back—mostly to see him flinch.

And oh, he flinched. Glared like you'd punched him in the stomach.

"I—what—don't—" he sputtered. "You can't just say things like that."

"You mean compliments?"

He looked genuinely appalled. "You take one like it's a threat!"

"Because they usually are! Last guy who called me beautiful tried to shoot me two hours later."

Wolffe rubbed his face. "We are so emotionally damaged."

You grinned. "You like it."

He muttered something about Jedi being a menace, and you stepped closer. Right into his space. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw—and the way he didn't move away.

"Wolffe," you said quietly. "You're allowed to like me. Even if I'm mouthy. Even if I scare you a little."

"You don't scare me."

You leaned in.

"Good."

Then you kissed him. And stars, he kissed you back.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. It was the kind of kiss you gave a person when you both knew tomorrow might not come. Hard, real, desperate in that quiet, aching way soldiers kiss—the kind that says I know we're doomed, but just for tonight, pretend we're not.

When you finally pulled back, he was breathing a little heavier.

"...You're exhausting," he whispered.

"You love it."

"...Unfortunately."

From the next room, Boost called, "If you're done making out, the rest of us are bleeding."

Sinker added, "Bleeding and emotionally neglected."

Wolffe let his head thunk against your shoulder.

You just smiled. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Maker help me," he muttered.

But he didn't say no.

[lyn31]

Heyyaaa can you write about zayne mc fam going on a holiday. probably going to a resort or smth and then we have zayne mc sneaking off for some adult time after the kids go to sleep or before they wake up? Y’know maaaybe on a jacuzzi or the pool in the villa? (wriggle eyebrows) just them enjoying the quiet tranquil moment before / after the chaos 😂 anyway thanks! Hihi ☺️

I pick lakeside resort and hot tub 😂🫶🏻 This could be waaay longer, but I think I capture the vibes for the whole weekend 👀 (I did it guys, I stop myself from getting carried away) And sorry for the wait!

Hopefully this is what you had in mind! Let me know what you think 💕

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the Quiet Moments

Summary

Amid family adventures and intimate moments, you navigate the ups and downs of love, parenthood, and the quiet joy of growing together with Zayne.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Family boding but also parents simping over each other, flirty, banter, bonding, Parenthood AU, silly, smut at the end! Semi-outdoor! Hot tub!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air is crisp with the scent of pine and fresh water, carrying the sharp coolness of early summer in the mountains. The lake glimmers just beyond the trees, still and silver-blue under a wide, cloud-dappled sky. Birdsong drifts lazily through the branches, and the soft crunch of gravel underfoot marks the Li family’s arrival at the lakeside resort.

Two cozy cabins sit side by side—dark wood with mossy green trim, each with a small porch and a pair of deck chairs facing the water.

And naturally, the protest starts before the suitcases even hit the ground.

“You get your own cabin and the three of us have to share?” Lucas groans, arms crossed tightly as he glares up at you from the foot of the porch steps. His dark brows furrow in a way that mirrors your own, and his gray eyes—yours, unmistakably—glint with indignation. The resemblance is uncanny.

You shift your weight to one hip, crossing your arms in return. “I’m sharing with your dad, you know.”

“That’s not the same, Mom,” Callum mutters as he walks past Lucas, already following Serena through the door of the second cabin.

At eleven, he and Lucas are both starting to look like Zayne’s shadow—same build, same expression, same stormy focus in those hazel eyes. Even Lucas, with your eyes, still wears the rest of Zayne’s features like a copy-paste.

The only thing that really sets them apart now is the glasses Zayne wears—and even that’s temporary, judging by how Callum’s been squinting at his tablet lately.

Callum’s voice is quieter than Lucas's, but no less opinionated continue. “You like sharing everything with Dad.”

Your gaze sharpens.

He glances back, clearly sensing the heat, his mouth opening like he’s about to defend himself—then promptly shuts it and speeds up into the cabin like he’s avoiding like the last kid trying not to get picked for cleanup.

Zayne, who has been silently watching the whole exchange, merely shakes his head, clearly amused. “We should’ve booked three cabins.”

You snort, glancing at him as he lifts the heavier bags like they weigh nothing. “I don’t think that would help.”

He doesn't reply, just brushes past with a faint, knowing smile before heading toward your cabin.

Lucas eyes his brother darkly. “Traitor.”

You sigh, focusing on your son again. “All of you have separate bedrooms at home. Sharing a cabin with your brother and sister for one week isn’t the end of the world.”

Lucas huffs. “We could just all stay in one cabin.”

You arch a brow. “So you want the five of us crammed into that little space?”

He hesitates. “I mean… we could’ve picked the big cabin.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Serena stepping back outside. She strolls toward Zayne with her usual composed grace, brushing long dark hair behind one ear. At fifteen, she’s nearly your height now—same calm expression as her father, same style of glasses, same gaze that seems to see through nonsense instantly.

You can’t hear what she says, but from the way both she and Zayne glance over at you and Lucas, you’re almost sure you’re being silently judged.

Lucas presses on. “Where’s your sense of camaraderie, Mom?”

You lift a single brow, unimpressed.

He clears his throat. “I mean—it would’ve been nice to all be in the same place.”

Your stance softens. You reach over and ruffle his hair, earning a reluctant scrunch of his face. “We’re right next door, sweetheart. It’s not that different.”

“Ugh. But still—”

“Luc,” Serena cuts in smoothly, appearing behind him. She places a hand on his shoulder and gently steers him toward the path leading to the main lodge. “This is getting ridiculous. Let’s go kayaking before you start a petition.”

She looks over her shoulder as she walks, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Don’t worry, Mom, he saw Dad pick the cabin with the hot tub. That’s why he wants that one.”

“Sis!” Lucas protests, his voice cracking mid-syllable as Serena snickers and guides him forward.

You shake your head with a sigh, watching them disappear down the gravel path. Zayne’s hand settles gently at your waist.

Callum sticks his head out from the cabin door, eyes bright. “We’ll go first!” he calls, then bolts after his siblings with the energy of someone who just finished unpacking and never plans to worry about it again.

You watch the trail they’ve left behind. Three very different personalities, yet the same, one chaotic sibling unit. Your arms lower as your voice softens.

“And here I thought my babies just didn’t want to be separated from me.”

Zayne leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand now clasping yours. “I’m sure they do,” he says, voice low and smooth. “But this is also a good thing.”

“Oh?” you murmur, letting your body turn slightly toward him.

He glances down, a quiet flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I get you all to myself now.”

You hum, lips curving. “That does sound good…”

But after a beat, you exhale and glance toward the trees, where the kids have disappeared. “...Although we should probably catch up to them.”

He chuckles, before giving you a quick kiss and leading you where the kids are heading to.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you and Zayne follow the trail down toward the lakeside dock. The trees open up just enough to reveal a small rental station, a handful of brightly colored kayaks and canoes lined up along the shore. Serena stands with one hand on her hip, already adjusting her life vest like she’s preparing to brief a mission team.

Lucas is gesturing wildly at the stack of paddles. “I call red!”

“No,” Serena says immediately, calm and final. “You get green. You always pick red and then say it’s cursed when you fall in.”

“That happened one time.”

“Twice,” Callum mutters behind him. “Not counting the pool noodle incident.”

You step up beside them, lifting an eyebrow. “Everything good here?”

“Totally,” Serena replies, tightening her vest. “I’m taking the solo kayak. Lucas and Callum can use the double.”

Lucas’s mouth opens. “Wait—what if I don’t want to be with him?”

“Tough,” Serena says, already dragging her boat toward the water.

Callum sighs dramatically but doesn’t argue. Instead, he grabs a paddle and slaps it into Lucas’s chest. “Back seat. I’m steering.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“No,” he replies mildly, “but I’d rather steer than swim.”

Zayne kneels beside one of the spare boats and runs a quick check of the straps and paddles. “Don’t fight the current,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “And remember to lean into the turn, not away from it.”

Lucas squints. “That sounds fake, Dad, but okaaay,” he says as he salutes.

Serena’s kayak glides smoothly into the lake with barely a ripple, her movements efficient and unbothered. She calls over her shoulder, “Meet me at the buoy and don’t tip anything before then.”

Naturally, they last all of three minutes.

The twins’ canoe wobbles violently as Lucas shifts to point at something in the water. Callum shouts, “Stop moving!” just as the boat rocks too hard to one side. There’s a loud splash—then laughter.

You wince, hand rising to your mouth. “Oh no.”

Zayne just exhales like this was always going to happen. “We brought towels, right?”

Lucas surfaces with a sputter and a dramatic gasp, flinging wet hair from his face. “The green one’s cursed too!”

Callum drags himself back onto the canoe, soaked but grinning despite himself. “You’re cursed,” he mutters, then offers a hand back to his twin. “Get in before I change my mind.”

From her spot near the buoy, Serena simply shakes her head and paddles a slow circle around them, completely dry. “You two are the reason we can’t have nice things.”

You laugh under your breath, nudging Zayne gently. “I give them ten more minutes before they start splashing each other on purpose.”

He hums. “Five.”

And he’s right—because barely a moment later, Callum lets out an exaggerated accidental splash in Lucas’s direction, and the chaos starts all over again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For some reason you agree when the kids suggest to go do rope course after kayaking. And now, here you all are—much deeper into the mountain.

The forest thickens again as you hike toward the rope course, the trail winding through tall evergreens and dappled patches of sunlight. Just beyond a clearing, the structure comes into view—an intricate network of wooden platforms, suspended ropes, and narrow bridges stretching high between the trees. A zip line runs from the top of the final platform, curving cleanly back toward the forest floor.

Serena eyes it all with quiet approval, already strapping on her safety harness. “We’ll start from the low platform and work up,” she says, tightening the buckles with practiced ease. “Callum, you go after me. Lucas, you’re last so I can yell at you if you mess around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lucas grumbles, but he’s already wrestling his harness into place, flashing a grin like he’s planning exactly that.

Zayne crouches beside the gear pile and helps adjust your harness before fitting his own. “Ready to test your balance?” he murmurs, fingers brushing along your waist longer than necessary.

Your brow lifts. “Think I can’t handle it?”

He gives you that soft, unreadable look. “I think I’ll enjoy watching you try.”

You scoff quietly, swatting his arm as Serena nimbly begins the course. She steps onto a series of hanging planks, hands tight on the overhead rope. Callum follows with cautious determination, his brows furrowed in focus. Lucas lags a little, fiddling with his helmet strap until Serena calls back, “If you fall off and dangle, I’m leaving you there.”

Lucas makes a face but hops up after them, wobbling on the first few steps. “This is fine. I’m a natural. Totally not terrified of heights or anything.”

You and Zayne hang back, watching the three of them ascend the next part of the course. Your hand grazes his absently—then stays there.

“Does it count as physical activity if I’m just watching them from here?” you murmur.

“Technically,” he replies, voice low. “My heart rate goes up whenever you lean close like that.”

You glance up at him with a grin, fingers idly tracing the line of his harness strap. “You flirting with me at a family rope course?”

His eyes lower slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging. “Just using the opportunity wisely. Before I’m roped into a group zip-line race and someone breaks something.”

“Someone like Lucas?”

“Someone like you,” he says under his breath.

You’re just about to reply—something snide or suggestive, you haven’t decided—when a voice calls out above.

“Can you guys hurry up?” Lucas yells from the second platform. “Serena says we’re not allowed to zip-line until the old people finish the course!”

Callum leans out beside him. “You two are literally loitering. This is a team activity.”

Serena doesn’t speak—just folds her arms from her perch at the top, somehow judgmental even from thirty feet off the ground.

Zayne exhales slowly, adjusting his gloves. “That’s fair. We did promise them we’d participate.”

“Mm,” you say, a glint in your eyes, before you quickly climb and call, “Race you!”

You hear him snort before he quickly climb up as well.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The final stretch of the rope course ends on a broad wooden platform nestled high among the pines. The wind is stronger here, crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of sap and lakewater. From below, the forest floor feels far away—up here, it’s all sky and treetops and the faint hum of tension cables.

Lucas is already bouncing on his heels, clearly ready to launch himself down the zip line before anyone gives him permission. “This is gonna be awesome,” he says, practically vibrating. “Can I go first?”

Serena yanks gently on the back of his harness, making him stumble a step. “You go last. For safety reasons. And because I said so.”

“You’re not the mom,” he mutters.

“No,” she says calmly, “but Mom agrees with me.”

You step up beside them, adjusting your gloves as you scan the zip-line cable. “It’s her day, so yes.”

And it is—because this holiday is, in a way, a celebration of Serena’s acceptance into the Linkon Institute of Medical Sciences. Your smart daughter, following in her father’s footsteps. You're incredibly proud, but there's a part of you that can't help but feel a little worried too.

But not now. Right now, this is time to relax and enjoy your family together.

Zayne comes to a stop next to you, just behind Callum, who’s inspecting the pulley rig with intense focus. “What do you think, Cal?” he asks, crouching slightly to meet his eye. “Want me to double-check it with you?”

Callum looks up, almost surprised—but nods. “Yeah. I mean… I know it’s safe, but…”

“You still want to be sure,” Zayne says, tone quiet and even. “That’s smart.”

They inspect the setup together while Serena does a last gear check, running her gaze over everyone’s harnesses. She’s methodical like her father, and you can’t help smiling when she gives Lucas a brisk once-over and pulls one of his straps tighter.

“Ow,” Lucas protests. “I had it.”

“You had it loose,” she replies. “You’re not falling off this mountain on my watch.”

You lean against the railing, watching the scene unfold—the careful tugs, the quiet affirmations, the shared looks. It’s different than earlier, when everything was teasing and distraction. Now, the rhythm is steadier. They’re looking to you both without even realizing it—checking for nods, for approval, for that invisible green light that says you’re good, you’re safe, go ahead.

You glance toward Zayne. He’s helping Callum finish clipping in, his hand braced gently at his son’s shoulder. There’s no fanfare, just that unshakable steadiness he’s always had—but the way Callum relaxes into it tells you it’s felt. And trusted.

“They’re growing fast,” you murmur.

Zayne straightens and meets your gaze. “They’re learning fast, too.”

Lucas suddenly pipes up again, grinning. “Okay, now can I go first?” “No,” you and Zayne say in unison—then pause, glancing at each other.

Serena snorts. “See? Told you they were syncing—without Mom even using her Evol. Like a built-in syncing system.”

Zayne arches a brow, stepping up to the zip line clip. “Do I need to remind you who installed parental controls on your devices?”

Serena lifts her hands. “Point made.”

Callum’s already lined up at the edge of the platform, eyes bright, harness clipped in. “Can we go now?” he asks, voice barely containing his excitement.

You nod once, smile growing. “Let’s fly.”

The guide gives the final okay, and with one push, Callum launches off the platform.

His shout rings through the trees—half thrill, half nervous laughter—as he sails along the cable, legs tucked, wind rushing past. The others crowd toward the edge to watch, squinting through the dappled sunlight as he lands smoothly on the far platform, a little awkward, a lot triumphant.

“He stuck the landing,” Lucas announces, already stepping up. “Hurry up sis, I want to go too!”

“I might just stay here longer then if you keep rushing me,” Serena warns, deadpan, but there’s affection tucked in her voice.

Lucas grins wide. “Like you’re not also excited.”

She huffs but doesn’t argue back. She clips in like she’s the only responsible one left in the world. When she takes off, though, there’s a tiny, unmistakable whoop that slips past her composure.

You glance at Zayne, a smile tugging at your lips. “Bet she’ll deny that sound later.”

“She’ll call it ‘a breeze catching in her throat,’” he says dryly.

Lucas laugh before he follow, shrieking with laughter as the wind catches him. You watch until he disappears through the trees.

Your turn comes next. The guide checks your gear again, but your heart’s already lifting with the height and the sound of your kids’ voices echoing below. You shoot Zayne a look over your shoulder. “Try not to be smug if I scream.”

“I would never.” He gestures smoothly toward the platform. “Ladies first.”

You roll your eyes, take a breath, and push off.

The wind swallows sound for a moment—your hair whipping back, the trees a blur as you fly past, heart surging. There’s nothing like this — weightless, wild, free. Below, you can already see the kids gathered at the end, waving. One of them—Lucas—is pointing dramatically as if scoring your posture.

You land with a light stumble, laughing as Serena steadies you.

“Decent form, Mom,” she says. “Could’ve tucked your knees better.”

“You sound like your father,” you mutter, unclipping your harness.

Seconds later, Zayne glides in beside you—silent and steady, landing with the precision of someone who’s probably studied wind resistance before stepping off. He barely makes a sound when his feet touch down.

Lucas groans. “Okay, Dad wins.”

“I didn’t realize this was a contest,” Zayne says mildly, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

The group starts heading back along the trail, shoes crunching through dries fallen leaves and gravel, sunlight dripping gold through the canopy above. Serena takes the lead, already discussing dinner options. Lucas hops between shadows like he’s chasing them, while Callum sticks close behind, recounting every second of the zip line with growing embellishment.

You fall into step beside Zayne, your hands brushing briefly before his fingers curl around yours.

“They’re definitely ours,” you say, watching the chaos unfold ahead.

He hums. “You think they get their dramatics from me?”

You glance over, grinning. “They get the precision from you. The dramatics are definitely mine.”

He pretends to weigh it for a moment, then leans in just enough to murmur, “It’s a good combination.”

You squeeze his hand once. “Yeah. It is.”

The kids are already halfway to the cabin by the time you reach the split in the trail. Serena has the door open. Lucas races inside like there’s a prize waiting. Callum lingers, looking over his shoulder until you wave him on. Then he disappears too.

Zayne’s thumb brushes over your knuckles as the door closes behind them. The woods fall quiet again, just the hush of wind and the distant lap of lake water.

“Still want them to share a cabin with us?” he asks.

You laugh. “Nope. I like our peace.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the family reaches the cabins, the kids fan out again, Serena already unlocking theirs while Lucas circles back with one last attempt.

“Okay—but seriously,” he says, half-whining, “you guys get the hot tub and we get… bunk beds?”

“You’re the one who wanted camaraderie,” you remind him sweetly.

Lucas huffs. “I thought that meant equality.”

Serena grabs him by the sleeve. “Trust me,” she says in her usual calm, decisive tone. “You don’t want to be in the same cabin as them tonight.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

She gives you a tiny, knowing shrug—and the faintest smile. Then turns to Callum. “Help me drag him before he keeps embarrassing himself.”

Callum obliges with zero hesitation, pushing Lucas forward while tossing a look over his shoulder. “Don’t forget we’re hiking tomorrow. The trail loops around the lake, other side from the ropes course.”

“We won’t forget,” you promise. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Zayne nods. “Be ready by seven.”

Callum salutes with two fingers and disappears inside as the door swings shut.

You and Zayne start toward your own cabin, your hand automatically finding his.

You exhale through your nose. “I swear, ever since we had “the talk” with her, Serena’s either smug or disgusted. There’s no in-between. That daughter of yours is very understanding but too understanding.”

Zayne’s thumb brushes yours. “Oh? Now she’s just my daughter?”

You shoot him a look. “Where do you think she gets her sass? I would never.”

He snorts quietly, but says nothing. Just unlocks the door and nudges it open for you.

It shuts behind you—and before you even think to toe your shoes off, his arms hook around your waist and sweep you clean off the floor.

You yelp, startled, grabbing at his shoulders. “Zayne!”

He’s already carrying you through the cabin, steady as ever. His voice is low near your ear. “We should take full advantage of what we booked.”

He carries you straight through to the back patio. It’s open to the mountain air, lit softly by the fading sun. The hot tub waits at the edge of the wooden deck, steam curling lazily into the cool evening.

The moment you got near the hot tub, the warmth hits—from the rising steam, and from the weight of his gaze.

Zayne sets you down beside the hot tub, but his arms stay looped around your waist, holding you flush against him. The scent of pine and wood smoke drifts on the cool air, but the only thing you register is the solid cools of his chest and the way his fingers skim the small of your back—lazy, absent-minded, like he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

Mist curls around you both, rising from the water and softening the sharp edge of the surrounding peaks. The rest of the world fades into that haze. His eyes stay locked on yours.

You tilt your head, voice light. “You’re not even going to let me change?”

“We won’t get much time alone other than today, the kids are too tired to crash at our place, so why waste time?” he murmurs.

He says it like a joke, but it’s too quiet, too focused. His gaze dips to your mouth, then lower.

You huff a soft breath that’s barely a laugh. “Uh huh, and their cabin is five steps away.”

Zayne doesn’t answer. Just brushes a knuckle over your cheek, down your neck. The same path he always takes when he’s trying to seem casual. Except now, his hand keeps going—past your collarbone, skimming under the hem of your shirt. His palm is cold, but the contrast makes your skin jump.

By the time the shirt is off and discarded somewhere behind you, his mouth brushes the curve of your shoulder. There’s no rush in the way he undresses you, just that calm, methodical quiet he always keeps—like he’s cataloging every new inch of skin.

When you’re both down to your underwear, he finally steps into the tub. Water laps at his thighs, steam clinging to his torso. His hair falls slightly forward with the humidity, darker and flatter against his brow.

He offers his hand. You take it—and the moment your foot hits the first step, he tugs gently, pulling you closer until you’re chest-to-chest again.

You sink into his lap without thinking, your knees on either side of him. The water envelops you in slow, rising heat, but it’s the feel of him beneath you—solid muscle, quiet tension—that leaves you breathless.

His hands settle on your hips. One thumb strokes just under the waistband of your underwear. Not enough to do anything. Just there.

“You’re tense,” he murmurs against your ear.

You let out a breath. “You think?”

His touch doesn’t go any higher, but you feel it like it does. Every motion, deliberate. A slide of fingers under the water. A small shift of his thighs beneath you. He adjusts his grip, pulling you fractionally closer.

“You always sit this straight when you’re pretending not to want something,” he says, so softly it makes your stomach tighten.

Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You try for flippant. “And you always start sentences like that when you’re trying not to rush.”

That gets you a faint hum. His hands trail down again, to the back of your thighs. His thumbs press in, slow circles, as if you’re just sore from the hike—but you know better. He’s waiting. Letting your mind fill in the gaps.

You shift, just slightly. It’s a subtle motion, but enough that your thighs brush his hips. Enough that you feel him under you—half-hard and getting harder. His grip twitches.

“Mixed signals, dear,” you murmur, watching his face.

His lips twitch. “Hm? Isn’t this how I always touch you?”

You press your weight down on his lap, letting the water shift around you. “Exactly,” you say sweetly. “So why are you reacting?”

His eyes stay on yours. Sharp, focused. But his voice stays calm. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”

You smile. “Oh, very polite.”

Your hips roll—not too much, just a lazy grind. Enough to see the smallest twitch in his jaw. Enough to feel the tension rise between your bodies, slow and dangerous.

Then you push off him and lean back against the edge of the tub, stretching one arm along the rim. The cool air nips at your shoulder, your chest. Water slips between your legs as you move—and one of the jets begins to pulse beneath you.

You blink. Your breath catches.

Zayne doesn’t move.

You glance at him. “What?” you ask, like it’s nothing. “I’m just relaxing.”

His gaze dips—lazily, deliberately—to where your body meets the water. “Are you?” he asks, voice low.

You try not to react. Try to play it off. But your fingers tighten on the tub’s edge, and your thighs tense just slightly.

Zayne doesn’t close the distance. He doesn’t touch. Just tilts his head and watches.

The jet pulses again, and this time, your hips twitch.

You swallow hard. “Coincidence,” you mutter.

Zayne’s voice is velvet-soft. “Mm. Convenient coincidence.”

His hand moves under the water—slow, a whisper of motion—and brushes your calf. Then higher. One smooth stroke up the back of your thigh. Not demanding. Just… coaxing.

You shift again, unintentionally this time, and the jet hits just right. Your breath leaves in a sharp little exhale.

Still, he doesn’t pull you to him.

Instead, he lifts your leg slightly and adjusts your position—just a little. Barely a tilt. But the next pulse of the jet is sharper, angled perfectly. You jerk in place.

“That—” you breathe.

“Shh.” His hand tightens, steadying you. “Let it do the work.”

You give him a sharp look. He meets it calmly.

“You started this,” he reminds you.

Your breathing is shallow. Your skin tingles. Each pulse from the jet sends another ripple of pleasure curling through your core. The water laps softly around you—but his eyes? His eyes don’t blink. Don’t waver. He watches like he’s cataloging every reaction—every twitch of your thighs, every hitch in your breath.

His thumb draws idle circles against your hipbone, so close to the edge of your underwear it’s maddening. Too close. Not close enough.

You lean into his touch instinctively—and he pulls back.

His fingers skim back down the inside of your thigh. Feather light. Aimless. Cruel. You can’t tell if he’s touching you or if the water is.

You let out a shaky whimper.

He hums, amused, tracing along the outside of your thigh now—back to safety. “Relax,” he says, the word syrup-smooth, entirely at odds with the slow-burning ache building inside you.

Your nails dig into the edge of the tub. Hard. The jet pulses again and your whole body jerks.

“Zayne, please—” It’s barely a whisper. Barely coherent.

He finally leans in, brushing a kiss against your shoulder again—slow, deliberate, maddeningly calm. His lips trail just a little higher, toward your neck, before retreating again.

His voice is low in your ear. “Tell me where you want me.”

Your head falls back with a helpless groan. “Anywhere. Fuck—anywhere.”

Zayne’s quiet laugh puffs against your throat. “Wrong answer,” he murmurs. “Try again.”

You reach for him on instinct—desperate, clinging—but he’s faster. His hands catch your wrists before you even touch him. He pulls you forward until your body’s pressed flush against his chest again, heat meeting cold, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“I’ll help you,” he says, his voice velvet-soft, dangerous. “If you ask properly.”

You rub against him, chasing friction, chasing relief. Your legs are trembling now, thighs quivering from the unrelenting pulse of the jet and the unbearable lack of his touch.

“Please,” you gasp, shameless. “Please… touch me. I want your fingers—you, not the water.”

That earns you something—finally. A kiss—not to your mouth, but to the base of your throat, right where your pulse flutters wildly beneath your skin. A low hum vibrates against your neck.

“Much better.”

Then his hand dips between your thighs. Slow. Measured. His fingers press against the damp fabric of your underwear—soaked from the water, yes, but he knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t move at first. Just rests there. Warmth through wet lace. Pressure, not motion.

You make a sound—raw, needy. A whimper dragged from somewhere deep in your throat. One that makes your whole body tighten with wanting.

And that—finally—gets him to move.

He leans in and catches your mouth with his.

It’s slow and consuming, like he’s trying to taste every shaky breath you’ve taken since the moment he sat you in his lap. His mouth moves against yours with quiet hunger, claiming, coaxing—like a reward and a warning at once.

You moan into the kiss, hips twitching as his fingers begin to move again—pressing a little firmer now, still over the soaked lace, sliding up and down in maddening rhythm.

His free hand rests against your cheek, so gentle compared to how he’s kissing you now. Your fingers thread into his wet hair, anchoring him there—so he can’t pull away if he thinks to tease you again.

He nips your bottom lip, just once, then starts to pull back—his hand shifting over yours, just enough to speak.

“Keep making those sounds, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “Let me hear how much you need it.”

Then his fingers press harder—slow circles against the aching spot between your legs. Still teasing, but more deliberate now. Less like he's playing, and more like he's leading you somewhere on purpose.

Your thighs twitch again, and you gasp—barely able to breathe through the heat flooding your body.

And he just watches again, lips slightly parted, eyes fixed on your face like it’s the only thing in the world worth seeing.

Then—slowly—his hand slips lower.

Still underwater. Still hidden. You feel his fingers hook under the edge of your underwear, and your breath catches.

He watches your face carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him.

You don’t.

The soaked lace peels away from your skin, sticky with heat and water. The second his fingers touch bare flesh, your whole body jolts.

“Zayne—” you gasp, but whatever you were going to say melts into a moan.

He strokes you—finally—flesh to flesh, slow and precise. The kind of touch that’s meant to drive you mad. The kind that says he’s not in any hurry.

His voice is lower now, rougher. “Not too loud now, Darling.”

You make another sound—choked, pleading—and this time, he kisses you again. Softer. Slower. A contrast to the way his fingers work you open beneath the water, dipping between your folds with maddening control.

Every now and then, he pulls back just enough to breathe you in—his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting your lips.

“You feel how wet you are?” he whispers. “And it’s not just the water, is it?”

You shake your head, before tilting it back, unable to speak. The water sloshes gently around you as your hips roll into his hand.

His other hand slides from your cheek down to your lower back, holding you steady against him while his fingers continue their unrelenting rhythm.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he adds, voice quieter now—just for you. “Don’t hold back.”

Your body breaks around his fingers.

It hits you all at once—a breathless shudder that starts deep and ripples outward. Your thighs tremble, your nails dig into his shoulder, and the sound that escapes you is raw, helpless—muffled only by the hand you slap over your mouth at the last second.

Zayne’s eyes flick briefly to your hand, then back to your face. His lips twitch in a faint smile—half reverent, half amused—but he says nothing.

He just watches you fall apart, gaze fixed on every twitch and gasp like it’s something sacred.

His fingers slow, gentle now—drawing out every aftershock, steadying you as your legs nearly give out.

You sag against him with a shaky breath, forehead brushing his. Your chest is still rising and falling in shallow bursts.

And he has the nerve to drag his hand up again, just slightly—like he might start teasing all over.

You swat him weakly. “Zayne,” you gasp, voice raw. “I thought we weren’t supposed to waste time?”

There’s a pause.

Then he laughs under his breath, the sound low and quiet against your cheek. “Right,” he murmurs. “This is family vacation.”

You reach toward the edge of the tub—fingers curling around the small foil packet tucked discreetly beside the wine glasses. You hold it up between two fingers with a knowing look. “You were very prepared.”

Zayne hums, tilting his head. “Of course.”

You tear the packet with your teeth. “Mm-hm. Lift your hips.”

He raises a brow, amused, but he obeys—shifting just enough in the water. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down and off with slow intent. The motion displaces the surface slightly, warm waves lapping against your stomach as you take him in hand. His cock twitches as you roll the condom on—slow, steady, teasing him back for everything he just put you through.

“Good,” you murmur. “Now sit.”

He lowers himself again, eyes fixed on yours.

You shift your hips, guiding him with one hand as you straddle him fully, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance beneath the water.

The moment you start to sink down, the heat of the water and the slow stretch of him inside you hit all at once—and you both exhale together, lips parting in mirrored breath.

Water floods around your thighs, curling up your spine as you move, and it’s delicious. The way the heat seeps in with each thrust. The way it slicks your skin even more. The way his hands find your waist, gripping tight now, no longer teasing.

You roll your hips slowly, deliberately, taking him deeper—your forehead resting against his again.

Each movement is fluid, deliberate—water shifting with your rhythm as you sink down onto him again and again. The wet heat of the tub wraps around you both, but it’s nothing compared to the heat building between your thighs.

His cock stretches you perfectly, the sensation made even more intense by the gentle slosh of warm water pushing in with every bounce. It drips from your skin, runs down your curves, and pools between your joined bodies.

Zayne watches you like he’s in a trance—one hand anchored on your hip, the other sliding up, slow and reverent, until it cups your breast.

You gasp, arching into his palm.

He rolls your nipple between his fingers—wet lace clinging to your skin as he toys with you through it. Then he pushes the fabric down, baring you completely to the open air and his touch.

Each time you ride down on him, his hand tightens.

Each time you roll your hips just right, he answers by flicking or tugging your nipple, making you cry out into the steam-heavy air.

“God, Zayne—” you choke out, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.

He hums again, calm and maddening, like he’s still half in control even now. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek as you move.

Your pace quickens.

The water splashes higher now with each thrust, slapping softly against the tub walls. Your thighs burn with effort, but the way he groans when you clench around him only drives you harder.

He leans in, mouth catching the peak of your breast, tongue dragging slow over your skin before he sucks—just once, just hard enough to make your hips stutter.

You whimper, full-body shuddering against him.

“Zayne—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, thumb circling your other nipple now, guiding your rhythm with both hands. “Keep going. Just like that. Let me feel you lose it again.”

And you do. You feel it coming again, fast this time, pressure building between your legs with every bounce, every thrust, every deep press of him inside you.

You ride him harder—water splashing, your breath catching, your moans spilling freely now with no room left for shame.

“Say my name,” he groan, lips at your throat now, voice rougher than before.

You say it, feeling one of his hand playing with your nipple while the other finally press at your clit, circling around the little sensitive bud.

And you would’ve cry and scream his name, if not for the way his mouth catches yours, muffling the sound as the pleasure rips through you a second time, harder than the first—you pull back just to collapse against him, nails dragging down his back, thighs quivering as he holds you in place.

You’re dazed. Breathing uneven. Every nerve still pulsing with the aftershock. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, steady where yours is not.

Only then does he move—one hand sliding from your breast to cradle the back of your head, the other steady on your waist.

You can feel him pulsing inside you. Still hard. Still waiting.

And it hits you, suddenly—how he hasn't let himself fall. How he's still holding back for you.

There’s something tender in the way he watches you. Not need, not lust—but care. Control. He’s holding it together for you. Just like always.

You lift your head slowly, face flushed, lips parted. “Zayne…”

He meets your gaze—his eyes dark, the barest twitch of restraint in his jaw.

You shift in his lap, still sensitive, but determined. Your hand strokes up his chest before reaching back to guide him deeper again with a slow roll of your hips. His head tilts back just slightly at the sensation.

“Your turn,” you whisper.

He watches you, eyes locked on yours as you start to move again—this time not chasing your own release, but coaxing his. Deliberate. Giving. Intimate.

You lean forward, kissing him—slow and wet—while you ride him again, your hands bracing against his shoulders as the water sloshes softly around you.

Each thrust makes you both gasp now.

Then his hand finds your breast again, fingers curling with every bounce, tugging softly at your still-sensitive nipple, drawing more quiet sounds from you as you move.

And still, you don’t stop.

Your pace builds—not too fast, not too rough, just enough. Enough to feel the drag and thrust of him deep inside you, enough to push him toward the edge he’s been holding off for too long.

He groans, low and tight, and grabs your hips now, grounding you against him.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, voice almost trembling. “Just—like that—”

You tighten around him on purpose, watching the way his brows pull together, the restraint breaking in his expression.

You want him to lose it.

And finally—he does.

Zayne pulls you down hard against him as he comes—hips jerking, jaw clenched, breath catching against your skin he spills into the condom, buried deep inside you. A quiet sound escapes him—raw and low—and his grip on you tightens just enough to make you gasp.

You hold him through it, fingers in his hair, your body still wrapped around him.

And when he finally exhales, you feel it against your neck. Soft. Spent.

The two of you stay like that for a moment—panting, tangled, water lapping gently at your skin.

Then Zayne lets out another soft breath, lips brushing your collarbone. “We’re in trouble.”

You laugh, pulling back just enough to see his face, brushing his wet hair away from his face. “We’ll be fine.”

“We’re hiking tomorrow, with three hyper children. They’ll drag us to the top of the mountain if they can.”

You breathe a laugh, your chest still pressed to his. Everything aches—in a good way. “And?”

“We’re getting old, darling.” He says dryly.

You shift in his lap, feeling him still inside you, slowly getting hard yet again. “Not that old,” you murmur, smirking as you lean in to kiss him.

His lips meet yours again—slow, unhurried, but deep. His hand cradles your jaw as he kisses you like he has all the time in the world. Like there’s no sunrise waiting. No hike. No reality outside the steam and the water and the way your bodies still cling together.

Your fingers curl in his hair, lips parting for him, and the kiss turns hotter—more hungry, more promise than play. A shared understanding passes between you in that silence.

Just you and him. Right here. Right now.

The water sloshes gently around you as he shifts, pulling you closer again—his arm wrapping firm around your waist.

And then the world softens.

The stars blur above you. The world shrinks to skin and breath and the quiet sound of your kiss deepening into the night.

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The next morning, the sun is already high and blazing as you and Zayne fall behind on the trail.

Ahead, Serena, Lucas, and Callum march with the confidence of mountain goats, barely breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, are dragging your feet just a little, legs aching with every uphill step.

"Okay—fine," you mutter, breathless, your legs aching. "We are definitely getting old."

Zayne huffs a laugh beside you, adjusting the straps on his small hiking pack. “Would you like me to carry you, or do I have to watch you struggle the rest of the way?”

You glance at him sideways and elbow him lightly. “You’re also sore, dear.”

He gives you a look that’s half amused, half fond. “Doesn’t change my offer.”

Before you can trade more teasing, a voice shouts from up ahead—Lucas, loud as ever. “Mom! Dad! Stop flirting and start hiking! We’re getting to the waterfall before it’s too hot!”

“Yeah!” Callum calls back. “Hurry up, or we’re leaving you two in the woods!”

Serena doesn’t say anything, but her look says it all — Get moving, you lovesick idiots.

You and Zayne exchange a glance.

Then both of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the trees as you pick up your pace—sore, smiling, and wrapped in a quiet sense of contentment.

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Notes

They're really the old married couple now 😂 and look Teen Serena! Is she as sassy as you thought she will be? ahahahahaha Hope y'all enjoy it! 💕

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

Although if you missed the Newlyweds series! Here How it all happen And also the Pregnancy series, starting with Try For Baby

[aventurineswife]

Hello! I just stumble upon your account recently and really love your works!! I don't know if requests are open or not.

But if they are open, I would love to request Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Mr Reca (separated and also you don't have to do all! Just Sunday would be enough) with a reader that has a way with music to unite the people's hearts! (They don't have an established relationship with the reader and it could be seen as romantic or platonic)

To be more specific, reader is an astral express member that has no memory of their past, but remembers the melodies they used to sing. They are whimsical, carefree, sometimes chaotic, kind and easy to befriend anyone. So you can count on them for lifting up the people's spirits or gather intel for the Astral express! Though some folks find them strange or just not used to their unwavering passion for music or their passion on embracing the unknown. But still many would join to harmonize or sing with them when they perform at a local bar.

The vibe of the reader is basically this song Hearken by Yaelokre. It's not a released song yet. But if you search it on YouTube, you can watch their performance at Smoke & Barrels! The song is on timestamp 5:20

Apologies if this is too specific. You don't have to follow through all of this or even take my request ;;)/ I just love the idea of Sunday meeting a reader full of whimsy.

Waves of Lost Harmony

Summary: In a cozy bar, a mysterious figure with no memory of their past but a deep connection to music prepares for an impromptu performance. As they hum and set up, Sunday, a dignified and introspective individual, approaches, intrigued by the power of their music. Through their conversation, the figure speaks of music as a language of connection, uniting hearts in ways words cannot. Sunday, carrying his own burdens, finds himself moved by the performance and the figure’s perspective on peace, connection, and the power of living within a song. Their shared moment sparks a deeper understanding and an unspoken bond.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Music, Impromptu Performance, Connection, Emotional Growth, Introspection, Warmth.

The bar was warm, a haven of clinking glasses and murmured conversations, the kind of place where the weight of the world seemed to ease, even if only for a moment. The soft glow of dimmed lights bathed the room in a cozy ambiance, casting long shadows on the walls. The sound of laughter and music filled the space, blending into a steady hum of life. For you, the one with no memory of the past but a deep connection to melodies that seemed to flow from your soul, this place felt like home.

You wandered through the bar with an infectious energy, humming a tune to yourself, the notes light as a breeze, full of promise and hope. Music was the thread that held you together in a world that was vast, chaotic, and ever-changing. It was the only constant you could rely on, a language you could speak without words.

And on this particular evening, you found yourself in a quiet corner, preparing for one of your impromptu performances. The people here, despite the oddness that some might feel in your presence, always found themselves drawn to your voice, your energy, your passion. It was an unspoken invitation to harmony.

As you set up, the gentle swish of feathers caught your ear. Turning, you found him standing there. Sunday, his eyes fixed on you, a calm yet introspective expression on his face. His wings fluttered slightly as he stepped into the room, his ethereal presence casting a soft glow in the dim light.

"I didn't expect to see you here," you remarked, your voice light and carefree. You gave him a wide smile, unaffected by the fact that you had no memory of his past or his leadership of the Oak Family.

Sunday raised an eyebrow, his posture dignified as always. "I find myself intrigued by your presence. Music has always been a medium of connection, but I never imagined it would be so... spontaneous here."

You laughed softly, the sound like a soft wind through leaves. "Music is never really spontaneous. It's the heart's truth speaking without restraint. It's my way of connecting with others. I don’t need to remember who I was to feel the notes that resonate with people."

Your words seemed to stir something in him—his gaze softened, the air around him thick with something unspoken. He glanced down at the piano beside you, where a few scattered instruments awaited their time to shine. "You speak of uniting hearts," he mused, his voice low. "And yet... what of the hearts that are already united? What of those who seek peace, not through connection, but through their own understanding?"

You tilted your head, considering his words. The melody that filled your chest seemed to pull the right notes together. "Maybe they just need to hear it differently," you said, a twinkle in your eye. "Music isn't just about uniting people in the same way—it’s about giving them the space to feel heard. You don't have to agree, but if you feel the rhythm, you'll know you're not alone."

There was a long pause between the two of you. Sunday’s gaze drifted toward the small crowd that had begun to gather in the lounge. The warmth of the bar’s glow, the smell of food and drinks mixing with the melodies, set the stage for your impromptu performance. You could feel the weight of his contemplative gaze, even as he held himself with the detachment of one who carried more than his share of the world’s burdens.

"You are... an interesting person," Sunday finally said, his voice tinged with something that could have been admiration—or something deeper. "You speak of music as if it were the answer to everything. I can see why others follow your lead. But what happens when the music fades?"

"Then we make a new song," you replied, shrugging lightly. "The melody never truly ends. It just changes, depending on who’s listening."

With that, you moved toward the stage, letting the energy of the room feed into your presence. Sunday watched, standing still, his thoughts unreadable. As you began to sing, your voice carried over the space, a soft but powerful sound that filled the air with a sense of yearning, a melody that pulled at the heartstrings and reminded everyone of what they sought—whether they knew it or not.

It wasn’t just a performance. It was a story. A bridge between hearts, souls, and worlds. You didn’t need to have a perfect memory to know that. The way people slowly gathered, drawn in by the call of your music, said enough. Sunday watched too, his golden eyes shining in the dim light, his lips barely curving upward as he observed.

Perhaps it wasn’t just the music that resonated with him. It was you—your ability to speak to others in a language he couldn’t quite master.

When the final note hung in the air, you opened your eyes and found Sunday standing closer now, his wings shifting lightly, as if the music had moved something inside him.

“You’ve reminded me,” he said quietly, “that sometimes, peace is not a goal. It is the journey. And perhaps... I’ve forgotten what it means to simply live within a song.”

You smiled at him, your heart full of an unspoken understanding. "You just have to listen."

In that moment, Sunday’s posture softened, his earlier distance giving way to something closer to warmth. And for the first time in a long while, you wondered if, maybe, your melodies had begun to do what they were meant to all along—draw together two souls seeking something they had forgotten to believe in.

[evolnoomym]

💚Welcome to Wip Wednesday💚

I have more snippet’s from “Smile For Me🌿” and pics for vibes, enjoy but remember nothing is final and these lines can still change. 🙏🏻

We got some Moon & Joel fluff (because I feel like I haven’t posted much about them 🤯🫠) and more drama between Moon & Starlet (it’s all for the plot trust me🙏🏻🥴).

Lastly I kinda gave Moon a face claim but that’s not 100% final either.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You couldn’t imagine that there would be a day in your life where you wake up in an actual bed, warm and cozy. In a house with functioning doors and windows. In a town full of people encased by thick and sturdy walls.

Yet here you are doing exactly that, but it’s even better because you are not alone. When you open your eyes his look right back at you.

“Morning asshole,” you yawn and stretch as much as you can in his tight hold. You bask in the feeling of safety caused by his strong arms wrapped around your middle.

“Good Mornin’ to you too sweetheart, jesus not even 8am and already you cuss me out.” He mocks a hurt expression but can’t stop the signature smirk from taking over.

“Oh hush, you know that’s my way of calling you baby.” You giggle softly. One of Joel’s favorite sounds lately, well, other than your moans. Those he certainly appreciates just as much.

“Sure, baby, ‘m gonna show you later what a big asshole i can be.” Joel’s groans and you just laugh more.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Silence settles over the room, until Starlet speaks up.

“I..I..I’m so-so sorry.” her voice shakes.

“Why?” You ask her.

“It’s my fault, what happened,” she starts to cry again “I told Joel that we should trust her and go to the lodge.”

“W-what? You…you did what?”

“Moon, I’m sorry-“ Starlet doesn’t get to finish.

You jump up out of the chair beside her bed, ready to attack her, but Simon reacts quickly, holding you back. But of course you try to trash your way out of his hold.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I, what would happen if you let your guard down, I warned you not to trust anyone, but you didn’t listen. Look what happened, you see what you did?” You scream and kick your legs out in her direction.

“Moon stop.” Simon tries to calm you.

“I will kill you, you hear me Starlet? I’m going to fucking kill you.” You continue screaming.

“Moon calm down, okay?” Simon tries again, louder this time, but to no avail.

“I should’ve left you out there to die when I had the chance, you are so dumb, so goddamn stupid and you ruined everything.” You can’t stop the tears, it hurts so much. A sick reminder of what someone’s irrational decision cost you in the past, the same way Starlets decision cost you something today.

It takes a few deep breath’s and force to will those emotions back into the closet of your mind. You can’t feel them right now, you must focus on the mission. Revenge.

“You’ll come with us, to haunt them and take them out. I don’t care if you die out there, you are going to fight with us,” you inform, your voice sounding more detached “and when we’re done, I’m gonna walk you out into the woods and hang you.” You state and stare at Starlet.

“Okay.” She feels that it’s deserved for what she did and doesn’t argue.

But Sunny who’s been silent up until now perks up at this.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘okay’? We have to talk about this.”

“No, no, Sunny. It’s really okay.” Starlet whimpers through her own tears, she’s scared but has to accept that theres no other way.

“Good. I’m going to pack up what we need and then we leave as soon as possible, understood?” You don’t really leave room for discussion.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Npt: @thedilfdiaries @thundermartini @always-andromeda @iamasaddie @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @beardedjoel @pedgito @perotovar @encasedinobsidian @sawymredfox @punkshort @ace-turned-confused @ohhoneypascal @mani-pedro @baronessvonglitter @beefrobeefcal @missredherring @jolapeno @goodwithcheese @pinkypromisepascal @grogusmum @tateypots @letsgobarbs @mushgloomz @sunshineispunk @ozarkthedog @mrsmando @burntheedges @sizzlingcloudmentality @guiltyasdave @mountainsandmayhem @amanitacowboy @pedropeach @moonlitbirdie @mari-positas @myownwholewildworld @joelspeach @604to647 @slimybeth69 @magpiepills @intheorangebedroom @jeewrites @shellshocklove @toxicanonymity 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[dean-a-mean-tae]

A Teddy Bear From The Fair | Stray Kids Extra Member

A soft peach gives Jeongin a cozy feeling.

WARNINGS: Predebut!Chan, Predebut!Nicholas, Predebut!Jeongin, Told from Jeongin's POV. There might be a strange vibe going on... I don't know any other warnings.

@cafekitsune made the dividers | Nicholas Ross Master List

Chan had taken Jeongin to different places to calm him down before bringing him to meet Nicholas. They went what felt like everywhere before going to the store.

“Before we go back, we need to get something,” Chan said, speed-walking to the fruit aisle. He walked past all of them before stopping at a cart with a big sign on it.

“Peaches?” Jeongin asked.

“They're Nick’s favorite snack,” Chan explained, picking through them for the perfect ones. Not too hard, but not mushy soft.

“Nick? The member I’m meeting today?” Jeongin asked, helping Chan find more of the sweet fruit.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Chan answered. He smiled when they had twelve peaches. If he hid them properly, they might be able to last 4-5 days.

Looking at his quiet friend, Chan frowned at Jeongin’s wide eyes. Knowing why he was nervous, Chan quickly reassured Jeongin, “Don’t worry. He looks scary because he’s tall, but he’s soft.”

“Soft?”

“He reminds you of a teddy bear,” Chan chuckled as he guided the younger male to check out.

“Just look at his face. He won’t scare you.”

“He looks like he’s going to kill me,” Jeongin muttered, hiding behind Chan. Nicholas sat on the floor, staring at Jeongin with unblinking eyes.

“I promise he’s not that scary,” Chan whispered as he pulled Jeongin closer to the taller boy.

They stopped right in front of him. Chan was right. Nicholas wasn’t scary up close.

He was looking up at them with wide sparkly eyes. His caramel skin looked soft with pillow-plump lips. His button nose looked so kissable, and his kinky hair was everywhere.

Jeongin remembers Chan saying something about Nicholas having thick curls and a lot of hair. He wasn’t lying.

“Hi, hyung.”

His voice.

Smooth and a little deep. A voice you couldn’t get tired of. One you want to listen to forever. A voice that could put you to sleep and keep you energized at the same time.

God, his voice.

“Hey, Peanut!” Chan smiled as he sat beside Nicholas, and the younger boy giggled.

Holy- He really did remind you of a teddy bear. A big teddy bear someone won for you at a Fair or something. Knowing that this person went through the trouble of playing a game again until they could win a prize for you.

That cozy feeling you get when you look at the teddy bear a week later and again a year later.

That’s his giggle. Soft and cozy.

“Jeongin?”

He blinked. Once, twice, then thrice.

“Sorry, hyung. I was lost in thought,” Jeongin giggled, his ears flushed bright red. He sat in front of the smiling pair.

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking?” Nicholas asked, his voice trailing off at the end.

“I’m 15,” Jeongin answered, pulling the bag of peaches out of his backpack.

“Peaches?” Nicholas breathed. Next to him, Chan laughed loudly.

“They are for you.” The youngest boy handed the bag to Nicholas. Unfortunately, it was snatched before he could get his hands on it.

“We both know you won’t wash them properly,” Chan said over Nicholas’ grumbles. He handed a lunch bag to Nicholas, who took it with another grumble.

“Yum,” Nicholas hummed as he pulled a washed peach out the bag. He admired the fruit before taking a huge bite. Chan laughed as he took a paper towel to wipe the juice spilling out the corner of Nicholas’ mouth.

He ate like someone would take it from him. Maybe he grew up with siblings, too? Anyone with siblings knows you must eat fast, or it might get snatched off your fork and off the plate.

Right after Nicholas finished the peach, another freshly washed one was placed in his hands. After taking a bite, Nicholas stared at Jeongin and asked, "What's my nickname?"

"Nickname?" Jeongin asked. Chan hadn't told him any nicknames. He heard him call Nicholas Peanut, but that sounded weird. Jeongin glanced at Chan, who stared back at him expectantly.

"Nick?"

"That's a common nickname," Nicholas explained before taking another bite. Next to him, Chan laughed as he pointed at the amount of juice dripping down Nick's chin. 

"What do you want to call me?" The tallest boy asked, wiping his face.

"I don't know. Peach?" Jeongin asked, looking between the other two boys. They shared a look before smiling at Jeongin.

"A nickname after your obsession," Chan laughed. His face was red from laughing too hard. "Perfect!"

"I'll have to find something for you," Nicholas said, tossing the peach seed in a nearby trash can. He wiped his face before tensing. He glanced at Jeongin before looking down as he whispered, "If that's alright with you."

"I want a nickname," Jeongin smiled, scooting towards Nicholas.

"Then I'll think of one," Nicholas chuckled.

There's that cozy feeling again.

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily, @jinnie-ret, @hwxnghyynjin, @foxilsdenn, You can be added by asking in the replies, sending me a message, or doing an ask thingy.

[rorysterr]

Matchup for @kadahoythere

id love to do a matchup for you!!

Your romantic matchup is…

Satan!!

- this one came to me pretty easily!!

- you described yourself as shy and I think Satan would find this quite endearing. Satan is more on the reserved side, not that he’s shy too, but he’s just the type who thinks before they speak. He’s not the type to talk just to talk, yk? His words actually carry meaning.

- I also think he’s someone who gets more overwhelmed by high energy people, like Mammon or Asmo. Don’t get me wrong, he does like his brothers but sometimes they’re just wayy too loud and chaotic for him. I think he’d like someone who is a bit quieter but also someone who shares interests with him so he can bond with them, which would be you.

- Honestly, when I was reading your description I thought you were a bit cat-like. You’re more withdrawn and you have this whole cozy vibe to you, which I don’t know exactly how to explain but you’re into cuddling and books, which just gives me this peaceful vibe. I feel like with you, Satan would feel comfortable and calm. He’s the avatar of wrath so he’s used to feeling such overwhelming emotions. He may put up a calm and composed front a majority of the time, but even that can be pretty exhausting, so I could see him easing up around you.

- I could honestly see you guys meeting in the library (WHICH IS CLICHE IK) but I could totally see you guys being brought together over your shared love for books and reading. I feel like Satan would approach you first and I feel like he’d initially misinterpret your shyness for fear because he’s used to people fearing him. He’s used to people seeing him for his wrath and fearing him for it, so I feel like he might feel a bit hurt but after talking to you a bit more, he’d realize that you’re just shy lol I totally think he’d love it once he realizes it though!!

- I could also see him taking advantage of your shyness! He’s a huge tease and he’d loovee the way you get all worked up when he teases you. He’d think it’s so adorable and I feel like you’d even remind him of a kitten because of how shy you are.

- I could see him really enjoying your company after the first real interaction you guys had and even catching feelings after that LMAO I don’t think it’d be love, but I do think he’d find you really cute after that. I could see him inviting you to the library to help him organize it or discuss the books that you guys just read. I feel like he’d do all that with the intent of getting to know you better because he’s interested in you tbh

- I could also see him teasing you a ton. If you voice to him that it bothers you, he’ll ofc tone it down but he’d love to just observe and analyze the way you react to his teasing. I could also see him carefully watching how you react whenever he helps you reach a book that’s too high for you to reach or when his fingers brush yours when he hands you a book. OMG and I could see him also tucking a strand of hair behind your ear whenever your super focused on reading

- I think he’d ask you out pretty soon honestly. He’s very observant so I think he’d be able to pick up on the fact that you like him just based on how you react to his teasing or act around him in general.

- when you do date, you can expect a lot of quality time!! He loves spending time with you whether you guys are going on more fancy dates like the traditional candle lit dinner or just going on a walk together.

- I also do think he’d be into physical touch, just not over the top physical touch! I could see him holding your hand or keeping his arm around you whenever you two go out. I also feel like he’d be the type to rest his hand on your thigh whenever you two sit together.

- omg and he’d LOVE if you ever crochet him cats!! it’s canon that he’s obsessed with cats so anything cat related that you give him will be treasured. his room is a mess tbh but I could see him keeping the crochet cats on his desk, away from the sea of books on the ground LMAO

- I also think he’d lovee to meet ur cats!!

Your platonic matchup is…

Simeon!!

- I think you guys would be great friends !! I could see him approaching you first to formally introduce himself and offer you help if you ever need it in Devildom. I do think that he’d notice your shyness upon first meeting you, so he’d try to keep his introduction short and sweet. He understands that too many questions or conversation can overwhelm someone who’s shyer, so I think he’d keep things short.

- I could honestly see the two of you bonding over your mutual love for writing. I could see him asking you to proofread his writing and him also asking if he could see your writing !

- since you also love to read, I could see you being the first person he comes to whenever he finishes up a story.

[diarylogbook08]

🎭 Body Swap Birthday AU: 10 Years Too Much Like You

Pairing: None | Words : 4 698

AU Type: Comedy + Slice of Life + Idol AU

Summary : On the morning of his birthday, Yeosang wakes up… to find himself in the one place he least expected—Wooyoung’s body. Neither of them has any idea how it happened — but since the day is packed with content, they have to survive a full day as each other — which includes managing idol schedules, dealing with fans, and (worst of all) pretending not to be suspiciously off. Easy, right?

To Yeosang it is the worst possible day to be someone else, and definitely the worst person to switch with. Because despite 10 years of friendship, they’re polar opposites....

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the dorm window, casting warm patches across the scattered sheets. Yeosang blinked awake, stretching his limbs— And froze mid-stretch.

Something was… off.

The first sign something was wrong: the room around him.

The air feels… different. Softer, somehow. Gone is the faint hum of his PC, the gentle red glow of his bedside candle, and the tight, cozy familiarity of his small room. It wasn't his room.

Instead, he was greeted by a space that looked like someone else’s curated Pinterest board.

Cleaner, hotel-like vibe with monochrome tones and reflective black surfaces. It was sleek. Too sleek. Lustrous black furniture, reflective surfaces, soft LED backlighting. The bed under him was cloudlike, dressed in charcoal-gray sheets so smooth they looked straightened with military precision. A polished dresser gleamed like black glass across from him, topped with minimalist decor: a designer candle, a bottle of cologne, and neatly folded tissues stacked like origami. Above the nightstand hung a giant cityscape print — cold, urban, perfect. Like a postcard from a version of New York he’s never visited..

And everything smelled like cedar and something expensive. Not a single thing out of place.

It feels like a hotel room with taste — minimal, urban, cold. Beautiful, but… not his. Where were his vitamin bottles? His gaming keyboard? His mounted iPad? Not a single supplement bottle in sight.

He sits up — the bed is larger, the sheets smoother, and the vibe is alarmingly grown-up.

It was beautiful. And completely not his.

Where are my vitamins? My gaming keyboard? My mounted iPad?

Why does this feel like a K-drama villain’s apartment?

Yeosang sat up.

The bed was larger. The sheets smoother. The air crisper. The vibe? Alarmingly grown-up.

This wasn’t his room.

This wasn’t his bed.

He wasn’t the type to panic easily, but when he groggily rolled over on the top bunk and caught sight of the second sign something was wrong: His hands.

Yeosang looked down and nearly recoiled. The fingers were too long, his skin was warmer-toned, calloused in new places. These weren’t his hands.

No. No no no—

Panic bubbling, Yeosang scrambled out of bed, whispering a rushed prayer that he wouldn’t bump into anyone on the way to the bathroom. He flung the door shut behind him, heart hammering in his ribs as he stepped up to the mirror.

And froze.

Staring back at him: Jung Wooyoung.

Wide brown eyes. Defined cheekbones. That slightly-too-dramatic jawline. And a horrified expression Yeosang recognized instantly — even on someone else’s face.

He whispered, “Okay.”

His voice cracked — too high.

“This is not a dream. This is your birthday, and the universe has given you the gift of cosmic humiliation.”

Scratch that.

He squeaked it.

He clutched the sink, trying to breathe.

“This is a prank. A really weird, really cruel prank…”

His gaze dropped. He was dressed in one of Wooyoung’s oversized t-shirts — black, with glittery angel wings on the back. It would’ve been hilarious.

If not for the fact that today was his birthday. And he had a full schedule. And fans were expecting his calm, composed, mysterious self.

Not whatever gremlin chaos Wooyoung was about to unleash.

The bathroom door slammed open.

Yeosang jumped as a very frantic version of himself stumbled in.

“WHY the hell am I in your body!?” shouted his own voice.

Definitely Wooyoung.

“Do you know how terrifying it is to wake up and see my own face scowling at me in a mirror?” Wooyoung huffed, crossing Yeosang’s arms — which looked way too stiff on him.

“How this happened ?!”

“You think I asked for this?” Wooyoung snapped. “You think I woke up and prayed to switch bodies with your skincare-obsessed, protein-bar-hoarding self?”

Yeosang ran a hand through his (well—Wooyoung’s) hair, muttering, “Okay. This is insane... I don't know how this is even possible...”

He began pacing — in Wooyoung’s sneakers, which squeaked faintly with every step.

“But it’s my birthday. We’ve got a full schedule... If we mess this up, the fans are gonna know something’s off. And we can’t tell the others. They’ll never let us live it down.”

Wooyoung tilted his head. “So we’re… pretending to be each other?”

Yeosang sighed. Long. Dramatic. Resigned.

“Yes.”

“…This is gonna be so fun,” Wooyoung grinned, and Yeosang could practically feel his soul leave his borrowed body.

He inhaled sharply. “I swear to every birthday candle I’ve ever blown out, if you flirt with the fans during my birthday Live—”

Wooyoung smirked. “I make no promises.”

“Wooyoung,” Yeosang warned, voice low — or, well, his voice, coming out of Wooyoung’s mouth, which made everything ten times worse. “If you ruin my image in front of Atiny-”

“Yeo-sang,” he sing-songed back, patting his own (now Yeosang’s) cheek. “Relax. I’ve been impersonating you in the mirror for years. I got this.”

“That’s the problem.”

Yeosang groaned, dragging a hand down his borrowed face.

“This is a PR nightmare waiting to happen,” he muttered, pacing again.

“I can’t even wink properly in this body—your face defaults to flirt mode.”

“Do not do the eyebrow thing.”

“What eyebrow thing?”

He did the eyebrow thing.

Yeosang physically flinched. “That one! The fans are going to think I’ve been possessed.”

“I mean... technically?” Wooyoung offered, wiggling Yeosang’s brows again with glee. “We have swapped souls. This is peak horror movie content. ‘The Birthday Switch.’ I’d watch it.”

“We don’t have time for horror movie jokes!” Yeosang snapped. “The members can’t know, the fans can’t know”

Wooyoung raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Please. I can totally pull off calm and elegant.”

“You are literally allergic to sitting still !”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Yeosang groaned, burying his face in his hands.

The universe really woke up today and chose chaos. On my birthday. Great.

“I should’ve known the universe would make you me just to punish me...”

“Hey.” Wooyoung pointed at him. “If anything, this is a blessing!”

Yeosang closed his eyes, counted to three, and prayed he wouldn’t go viral on his own birthday for accidentally winking at someone’s grandma in the comments section.

“We need a plan,” he said at last.

“Already ahead of you,” Wooyoung said proudly. “I studied your fancams.”

“…Why do you have my fancams saved?”

Wooyoung blinked. “Research purposes.”

Yeosang looked at his own body unconvinced, his shook his head.

“We just have to make it through the day. Minimal eye contact. No dancing. No abs. No weird laughter—”

“No fun,” Wooyoung muttered dramatically.

“No I'm serious Woo. Don't act like your natural self, we both know Seonghwa hyung as a 7th sense and he will be the first one to caught it up and know something’s off the second you—”

“Got it.” Wooyoung cutted him off, while dramatically rolling eyes off. “Don't be chaotic. Be mysterious. Brood. Don't laugh. Say minimal things. Don’t overdo the hearts. Do the blank stare thing,” Wooyoung added, making a face. “You blink, like, exactly three times per minute.”

Yeosang gave him a tight-lipped look. “How do you know that?”

Wooyoung looked proud. “Best friend duties. See? I am good at being you.”

“This is a nightmare.”

Then, almost gently, Wooyoung said, “You know, this might be the first time in ten years I’ve been in your skin… and not just metaphorically.”

Yeosang blinked. “What?”

“I mean—like. I’ve been imitating you forever, right? For jokes. But now? It’s literally you. Kind of poetic, don’t you think?”

Yeosang looked away, a little too fast. His voice dropped a notch.

“I’m still not doing aegyo.”

Wooyoung grinned wide, dangerous. “Oh, you absolutely are.”

He grinned, leaning closer. ���Also, when do I get to dramatically lift my shirt and show off your abs? Is that before or after the cake?”

Yeosang looked seconds away from combusting. “If you so much as touch my hoodie, I will end you.”

Wooyoung snorted. “God, being you is fun.”

Yeosang groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This was his birthday. He was supposed to be eating cake, not suffering divine punishment for every time he forgot to share snacks with Wooyoung in the past ten years.

“Just don’t screw this up.”

“Bestie,” Wooyoung said with a dramatic bow, still grinning like a menace in Yeosang’s face, “I was born to play you.”

There was a suddenly knock on the door. A voice called out:

“You guys awake?” It was Jongho.

A pause. They both froze. Yeosang’s soul briefly left his body again. Wooyoung’s eyes went wide. “Okay. Plan?”

Yeosang whispered, “Act me natural.”

Wooyoung took a deep breath, then slapped on his best stoic face.

“Okay. I’m you. Mysterious. Graceful. Possibly a vampire. Got it.”

Yeosang, now fully resigned to his fate, muttered, “And I’ll try to be a walking serotonin leak with legs.”

“That’s the spirit!” Wooyoung grinned—Yeosang’s grin now, which was deeply disturbing—and opened the door.

Jongho blinked, confused.

“You okay?” he asked Yeosang—except he was talking to Wooyoung, now wearing a facial expression that could only be described as “smoldering attempt.”

Yeosang (in Wooyoung’s body) peeked over his own body's shoulder and gave Jongho a shaky thumbs-up.

“Totally peachy. Normal. Functioning. Mentally stable.”

Wooyoung coughed. “Debatable.”

Jongho narrowed his eyes at both of them, clearly suspicious.

“You two are definitely acting weird.”

Wooyoung, still wearing Yeosang’s face, smirked dryly.

“Maybe we just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Yeosang stepped forward, dragging his own body down the hall before Jongho could ask another question.

“This is already a mess,” Yeosang muttered under his breath.

“And it’s only 9 a.m.” Wooyoung added.

═════════════════

The broadcast went live. Camera opens on “Yeosang,” sitting in a cozy room decorated with balloons and a small birthday cake.

Wooyoung—currently trapped in Yeosang’s body—was doing his absolute best to mimic his best friend’s usual calm, thoughtful demeanor. His hands were folded neatly in his lap. His voice was low and deliberate, just the way Yeosang usually spoke.

“Hello everyone. Thank you so much for coming to my birthday live,” he said gently, bowing his head slightly. “I’m really grateful for all your love and support.” he finished with a slight nod — Yeosang-style.

His lips tugging into a reserved smile he practiced earlier in the mirror.

The stream chat lit up instantly, hearts fluttering up the side of the screen like digital confetti.

“Happy birthday Yeo!! 💜” “Love you Yeo!” “KANG YEOSANG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 💜” “Omg he’s glowing today!” “So handsome 🥺💖” “He’s always cute, but today he’s extra soft??”😭 “OUR FAIRY PRINCE 👑”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung continued, keeping his hands still even though they itched to wave dramatically. “I’ve been thinking a lot this year about… how lucky I am to have you all.” He paused, voice dipping into a quieter register. “And to have these moments to share.”

He blinked slowly, like he thought Yeosang might. Internally, he was sweating.

═════════════════

Meanwhile in the dim-lit practice studio across the hall, Yeosang—currently in Wooyoung’s body—tied his shoes with more aggression than necessary.

He hadn’t watched the stream yet. He couldn’t. He told himself practice came first, but the truth was: he was anxious.

Please don’t do anything weird, he thought, tugging at the drawstring of his hoodie. Don’t wink. Don’t start singing out of nowhere. Don’t call the fans “babies.” Please just—be me.

He unlocked his phone and peeked at the live viewer count.

Over 100,000.

His stomach dropped. Oh god.

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, just as the practice room door creaked open.

San stepped in, towel slung over his shoulder, water bottle in hand.

“Yo,” San greeted, brows raising slightly as he took in Yeosang’s—well, Wooyoung’s—expression. “Why do you look like you just lost a fight with your own reflection?”

Yeosang straightened, startled. “I’m fine,” he said quickly.

San smirked. “You sure?”

Yeosang forced a small smile. “Just focused.”

San chuckled. “Alright, well, You’re acting weird today.”

Yeosang didn’t add much, just nodded and kept his attention on practice—as Wooyoung—tried hard to stay focused and silently prayed that his best friend wasn’t messing up the whole birthday live.

By some luck, Wooyoung was sticking to the plan the staff had organized for the stream. For now, Wooyoung was still acting calm, carefully following the steps, while Yeosang kept practicing, hoping the whole swap wouldn’t get noticed by anyone.

About around 30 minutes later... As San and “Wooyoung” did a practice break, San said slowly, turning to grab his water. “I was gonna hop on the live to say hi. You coming?”

Yeosang’s blood ran cold. “What? No. You don’t have to. He’s fine without us.”

San gave him a weird look. “He’s doing the birthday stream. Aren’t you supposed to, I dunno—crash it halfway through and kiss his cheek or whatever it is you usually do?”

Yeosang stared at him in silence for a second too long.

San’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you looking at me like you’ve never heard of skinship?”

Yeosang shook his head quickly. “No, I—I’m good. I’ll go now.”

He jogged past San out of the room, muttering under his breath.

“Worst. Freaky Friday. Ever.”

═════════════════

Meanwhile on the livestream…

Wooyoung was doing his best to keep a calm, thankful demeanor as he spoke in hushed, thoughtful tones, thanked ATINY for their support. Every now and then, he stole a quick glance at the chat:

“Yeo’s so peaceful today 🥺” “He’s glowing 💜” “Our angel is extra angelic 😭”

For now, Wooyoung was nailing the calm, collected “Yeosang” vibe. Then the studio door suddenly opened.

“Hi there~~” San called, stepping into the room. “Happy birthday, Yeo!”

Wooyoung blinked, taken aback for a moment, then pressed his lips into a polite smile. He watched San’s silhouette move closer— followed by “his own self,” behind him. The chat, however, was already unloading:

“OMG IS SAN’S HERE ?!😍” “That was Sannie's voice right?” “Finally, a surprise guest!” “It is Choi San !!” “Yeosang’s gonna freak out lol”

Wooyoung glanced down at the comments and let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, it’s San,” he said, then pivoted back to his friend.

San strolled into frame and beamed at the camera. He lifted a hand in a big wave. “Hello, ATINY!” he called, his voice warm and playful.

The chat flooded again:

“SANNN!!! 💜” “SANSANG DUO 😭” “This is everything!!!”

Wooyoung took a calming breath and returned to his seat, ready for whatever came next—still doing his best to hold onto his role.

Suddenly San leaned in for his classic on‑cam cheek peck. Everyone watching, bracing for the usual Yeosang freeze. Wooyoung stiffened for half a second—then relaxed… and turned into it slightly, smiling softly with a glint in his eye.

The chat exploded:

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!” “Wait, did he just LET CHOI SAN kiss him and SMILE???” “He’s actually enjoying this??!” “HE IS NOT MALFUNCTIONING??” “WHAT THE F*CK !?” “NO BUT FR THIS ISN’T YEOSANG 😭💀” “WHO IS THIS MAN” “DID YEOSANG GET POSSESSED OR WHAT!?💀💀💀”

San’s eyes went wide for a split second, then he shook his head in disbelief, rubbing the spot on his cheek.

“Woah,” he laughed, voice a notch higher. “Since when do you let me do that?”

Off-camera, the actual Yeosang (in Wooyoung’s body) was peeking around the doorframe, eyes wide in horror, a hand flying over his mouth. He mouthed frantically: “Stop it! Be. Normal.”

San noticed the movement in his peripheral vision and turned. “Huh? Wooyoung?” he said casually, then grinned. “Come here, man. You’re already in the doorway, come say hi to ATINY.”

Yeosang’s stomach dropped. And the chat caught on in seconds:

“WAIT IS WOOYOUNG BACK THERE??” “GET IN FRAME KING !!!” “NOT WOOYOUNG LURKING IN THE DARK 😭😭” “OMG THE CHAOS TRIO???” “WOOSANSANG COMBO LET'S GOOOO 🔥”

Yeosang stammered, still frozen in place. He looked directly at Wooyoung (in his own body), silently pleading. Wooyoung just gave him a wink. And it obviously made the chat turned crazy :

“WHAT THE HELL ?!” “YEO??? SINCE WHEN 😭😭😭” “He’s kinda cute like this tho omg 😳💘” “DID YEOSANG JUST FLIRTED AT WOOYOUNG OMG ?!” “WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY !???”

San laughed and waved "Wooyoung" forward. “Come on, don’t be shy! You’re never this quiet man.”

Reluctantly, “Wooyoung.” stepped into frame and sat awkwardly beside “Yeosang.” He positioned himself stiffly, eyes darting between San and his own face on camera.

San squinted, then laughed. “You two are acting so weird today. Everything okay?”

Both Yeosang and Wooyoung answered in unison:

Yeosang and Wooyoung answered at the same time.

“Nothing.”

“Everything’s fine.”

They made eye contact.

San squinted. The chat went feral:

“OKAY. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING 😭” “Why is Wooyoung so stiff??” “He’s just standing there 😭” “Why is he acting like Yeosang now?” “Yeo’s bold, Woo’s shy?? Something’s off 😂” “I SWEAR THEY SWAPPED SOULS OR SMTH” “Why is Yeosang SMILING LIKE THAT?”

On screen, “Yeosang” tilted his head, smirk still in place—Wooyoung executing Yeosang’s signature half‑smile, only a touch more mischievous.

San was still side-eying the two of them, squinting like he was trying to read through the Matrix.

Wooyoung smoothed a hand down his knee and sat a little straighter. “I’m very thankful to ATINY,” he said, his tone measured, eerily calm. “I feel... very loved.”

Yeosang blinked.

Not bad. Slightly robotic, but not bad. Play it cool. Keep it—

“And...” Wooyoung continued, clasping his hands primly in his lap, “I think love should be expressed with sincerity.”

Yeosang’s brows knitted.

Where is this going....

Which is when Wooyoung turned to the camera and smiled sweetly. “That’s why,” he declared, eyes gleaming, “I’ll be doing finger hearts every ten seconds for the rest of this Live. One for every year I’ve survived with this beautiful face.”

He threw the first finger heart.

And winked.

Yeosang (still trapped in Wooyoung’s body) choked.

The chat exploded immediately:

“😭😭😭 WHO IS THIS MAN???” “YEO… IS DOING AEGYO… WILLINGLY??” “NO CUZ HE’S COUNTING FINGER HEARTS HELP 😭” “YEOSANG’S HAVING A PERSONALITY CRISIS LIVE ON CAM” “every 10 sec?? sir i’m ASCENDING”

San started laugh-laughing now, slapping a hand over his mouth. “What... what are you doing?” he asked, turning toward him with a look of utter disbelief. looked innocent.

“Just expressing my gratitude.”

Another finger heart.

Another wink.

Yeosang physically recoiled in secondhand embarrassment, face burning, fingers twitching in his lap like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin—and his own body.

Then he watched his own body turned back to the camera with yet another finger heart, this one held suspiciously close to San’s cheek.

The chat was losing it:

“IF THIS IS A DREAM DON’T WAKE ME UP 😭😭” “he’s not just cute he’s BOLD wtf” “someone PLEASE check if Yeosang has a fever” “HE’S TURNED INTO WOOYOUNG 2.0 💀” “San’s face rn HELP he’s so confused LMAO” “Wooyoung looks so calm today lol what is going on ?” ”IKR ! WHY HE LOOKS LIKE HE JUST WOKE UP FROM A MID-LIFE CRISIS?”

San stared between the two of them, looking increasingly unsettled. “Okay,” he said slowly, “I’m officially freaked out. Which one of you hit your head this morning? Cuz you two are being way too weird. Like… roleplay level weird.”

Wooyoung opened his mouth. Then Yeosang opened his. Then they both closed it again. Then, Wooyoung smiled—this time too wide, teeth showing.

Yeosang watched his every moves through Wooyoung's eyes. Oh god no. As "his own" body was already leaned forward the camera again, chin in hand, eyes wide and sparkly. “ATINY,” Wooyoung cooed, “Should I do a heaaaaart face next?”

Yeosang paled. San let out a bark of laughter. And the chat lost its collective mind.

“OMG 😭😭😭” “THE WAY HE SAID ‘HEART FACE’ WITH THAT ANGELIC SMILE I CAN’T” “THIS IS PEAK CHAOS” “this is either a prank or spiritual possession there’s no in between” “I CAN’T TAKE THIS LMAO” “San is trying not to die on camera 😭” “IF THIS IS A BODY SWAP JUST SAY THAT” “REALITY SHOW WHEN PLS” “I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S REAL ANYMORE” “THIS IS ATEEZ CHAOS GOLD😭💥”

San was fully wheezing now, one hand on his knee, the other covering his face as if trying to hold in what was clearly a near-fatal case of secondhand embarrassment.

“Heart face?” he gasped between laughs. “Yeosang, what is happening to you today?”

Wooyoung (still in Yeosang’s body) turned his head slowly, innocently, and blinked like a cartoon lamb. “Just trying to connect with ATINY,” he said, tone impossibly sweet.

He cupped both hands into a heart over his cheeks. “Like this~?”

Yeosang groaned and buried his face in his hands, muttering something.

The chat was going feral:

“THIS IS ACTUALLY INSANE 😭😭” “Yeosang is broken. Someone reboot him.” “I’M SCREAMING NOT THE HEART FACE” “This is the best birthday Live in K-pop HISTORY” “I’M CRYING”

San tried to regain some composure, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… you’re too much today,” he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced off-screen at something out of frame. “Oh—actually, I think the manager said we’ve got that recording in twenty?”

Yeosang perked up—blessed reprieve—then nodded quickly. “Right. Yep. We should wrap.”

Wooyoung clapped his hands together. “ATINY~” he sang in a high, musical tone. “Thank you so much for joining today’s birthday stream! Your love means the world to me.”

Yeosang could only glare daggers at him as Wooyoung added, “I’ll be taking care of this beautiful face until the next comeback, so please look forward to it.”

San let out another laugh and stood, Yeosang and Wooyoung following up to wave goodbye. “Wooyoung” hesitated, then raised his hand in the most awkward half-wave ever recorded on camera.

Meanwhile “Yeosang” leaned in close to the lens for one last ultra-dramatic finger heart.

“Bye-bye, ATINY,” he purred. “Love you~ 💜”

The screen faded to black.

But the damage was done.

═════════════════

The set buzzed with energy — cameras rolling, members prepping, stylists fussing — but for Yeosang and Wooyoung, the day had officially become an exercise in survival.

Yeosang—of course still in Wooyoung’s body—stood nervously by the equipment table, fingers tapping anxiously. He’d spent the last hour trying to imitate Wooyoung’s natural energy but kept almost bursting out laughing whenever anyone said his name.

Wooyoung—looking impossibly calm in Yeosang’s body—sidled over, throwing an eyebrow up in mock challenge.

“You ready for this?” Wooyoung asked, voice low but clearly amused.

Yeosang grimaced. “No. And you?”

“Born ready,” Wooyoung smirked.

Just then, the director called for everyone to take their places. But as filming progressed, the cracks began to show and the member noticed it.

“Guys is it me or Wooyoung hyung has been uncharacteristically extra quiet today?” Jongho asked.

“No it's not you Jongho, i think it is kinda weird too” Seonghwa admitted.

“That could been worse... You guys have seen Yeosang's birthday live earlier tho ? He was completly acing out !” Yunho added.

“Oh yeah tell me, HE DID AEGYOS AND LET ME KISSED HIS CHEEK” San answered.

“WHAT !?” Jongho Mingi and Seonghwa look at San with wide eyes, not believing his words.

═════════════════

As the day went on, both Yeosang and Wooyoung tried their best to act like the other, because how would they explain to the rest of their members something they didn't understand nor have the answer about it themselves ? They couldn't. So they had to keep the act up —each moment a fresh minefield of “am I doing this right?

Both realized it wasn't easy to be in the other's shoes. Despite their 10 years of friendship. As all of them were finally drifted home, most of the members were still buzzing about how "odd" Yeosang and Wooyoung have been acting through the whole day.

Once back at the dorm, things were finally quiet.

Yeosang (still stuck in Wooyoung’s body) sat on the edge of his bed, toweling off his hair. Across the room, Wooyoung—curled up on Yeosang’s bed, still in Yeosang’s body—was scrolling through social media comments from the stream, snorting quietly every now and then:

“Yeosang is reborn as a fairy prince flirt.”

“Nice,” Yeosang muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

Yeosang glared at him. “You almost kissed San back !”

Wooyoung grinned. “I didn’t. Chill.”

Yeosang groaned and flopped back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “We cannot keep doing this. I can’t do it anymore without feeling like I’m going to explode.”

“You’re doing great,” Wooyoung replied breezily. “You nailed the Wooyoung laugh this morning.”

“That wasn’t a laugh,” Yeosang muttered. “It was a wheeze.”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to quip back, but paused when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then stood up abruptly and walked out of the room.

“…Where are you going?” Yeosang asked.

“Nowhere. Stay,” Wooyoung said quickly. “Be back in a second.”

Ten minutes later, Yeosang—still grumbling—heard the door creak open again. When he looked up, Wooyoung was standing there, holding something out to him.

An envelope.

Yeosang blinked.

“What’s that?” he asked, sitting up.

Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck (well Yeosang's but you get it). “You were supposed to get this earlier today. Before the whole… whatever-this-is happened.”

Yeosang took it slowly, fingers brushing the seal. His name was written neatly across the front—in Wooyoung’s handwriting.

He looked up. “What is it?”

Wooyoung hesitated, then dropped onto the bed across from him. “Just open it.”

Yeosang slid his finger under the flap and unfolded the letter inside. The dorm was quiet except for the soft rustle of paper. As his eyes scanned the first lines, something in his chest shifted.

To: Yeosang

From: Wooyoung

"If you’re reading this, then either I gave this to you in person like a normal human being, or I chickened out and shoved it under your pillow and ran like a coward. Either way, it’s your birthday, and I wanted to do something different this year. No screaming. No sparkles. No glitter bombs. (I know. Growth.) We’ve been friends for over a decade now. That’s insane when you think about it. Ten years of practice rooms and ramen and fights about choreography and which snack is better. But here’s the thing I don’t say enough— I admire you. Not just because you’re talented or terrifyingly good-looking (you are, I’m jealous), but because you’re consistent. Thoughtful. Brave in your own quiet way. You always think no one notices the small things you do. But I do. I see how you’re the first to listen when someone’s down. The first to lend your hoodie when someone’s cold. The one who stays behind to clean up when everyone else runs. You’re steady. You’re the reason I know I won’t fall apart—even when I do fall apart. So for your birthday, I just wanted to tell you… thank you. For staying. For choosing this team, this dream, this life—even when it’s hard. You make me want to be better. Happy birthday, angel. I love you." — Woo

Yeosang blinked rapidly, the words swimming. His chest felt too full all of a sudden, like something warm and weighty had taken root there.

He lowered the letter slowly and stared at Wooyoung across from him—still in his own body, still smirking, but quieter now.

“You wrote this before the… body swap?” Yeosang asked softly.

Wooyoung nodded. “Three days ago. I was gonna give it to you after the live. But then I woke up and looked in the mirror and saw you, and—well. Plans changed.”

Yeosang’s voice was barely more than a whisper: “I love you too, Woo.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise—a real, tender moment. Then he opened his mouth, and a faint glow filled the room.

Just as the warm light wrapped around them, they both gasped and looked toward the mirror.

The reflection wavered.

And then, in an instant, they were themselves again.

Yeosang stared at his own hands—his own hands—then turned to Wooyoung and saw Wooyoung’s relieved smile.

“I guess… that was our cue,” Wooyoung said softly.

Yeosang closed the letter and tucked it into his pocket. He stood and crossed the room, enveloping Wooyoung in a hug—one body, two hearts finally back in place.

“Happy birthday, Yeo-sang,” Wooyoung echoed, brushing a thumb across Yeosang’s cheek.

They stood like that for a long moment, the chaos of the day forgotten.

═════════════════

END.

Hey ATINY! 💜

Happy weekend—hope you’re all having an amazing one! Since it’s Yeosang’s birthday, I couldn’t resist sharing this little body‑swap scenario 🎂✨ I had so much fun writing it, and I hope it brought a smile to your face!

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to like, reblog, or drop me a comment with your favorite moment. Thanks for reading, and here’s to many more Yeosang celebrations! ♡ — your resident chaotic writer

[quinloki]

So we’ve got wbp with marine reader

But what about sabo?

Dragon letting sabo keep his marine prisoner alive so long as they provide information they need

Turning them into a prisoner in his house instead of the revolutionary’s cells. As soon as they give in they can go upstairs! They’ll be the perfect house husband ^^

He can come home to a warm meal he didn’t need to make, the house feels lived in, it’s cozy even, if you forget about the cuff around your leg and the gloved hand around your throat.

-💧

You always come to me with ideas that I have to chew on for a while, because DAMN.

Cw: yandere vibes but oddly sweet?

You’re not any special position in the marines, a deckhand more than anything else. But you were a deckhand on a ship that was carrying precious cargo of some sort - monetary or information it was hard for you to know.

You had ears, sure, but sense enough to feign being deaf, and smarts enough to keep your scuttlebutt to as close to zero as possible.

With no complaints against you, you should get transferred after this, to some nice quiet captain’s ship on the East Blue where nothing really happens.

But as flame erupt all around you, and the shattering planks and the roar of canon fire assails your senses you realize you’re probably not going to see the next sunrise, forget the peaceful waters of the East Blue. All the really strong fighters on the ship were overwhelmed, and sure you can defend yourself, but - again - you’re just a deckhand. It’s maybe your fifth time on a route.

“East Blue, huh?” The voice is amused and there’s a brightness to it that’s out of place in the smoke. It says something else, but you’re too exhausted from trying to survive everything and lose consciousness.

When you come around again you’re tied to a hard metal chair in a cold concrete room with poor lighting and some questionable stains. A young man with wavy blonde hair sits across from you in tailored clothes, a top hat and a smile.

The two of you talk for long enough that you can feel yourself relaxing. He’s not hurting you, and he’s accepting your answers with the calm surety of someone who could read your mind. After a while you decide to not even bother hiding anything from him, and offer up what little information you have.

Maybe that smile will offer you a painless death, because you’re certain at least, that you’re going to die.

Finally he asks a question you didn’t expect at all.

“Are you from the East Blue?”

You blink a moment and then shake your head. “No sir.” You don’t know when you started addressing him so formally but he hasn’t stopped you.

“Tell me why you mentioned it before you passed out.”

“… I was hoping to be transferred there, sir.” You admit plainly. “I’m…” you hesitate but it doesn’t matter at this point. “I’m only in this for a bed and the promise of food, honestly.”

“Oh? If we offered you food and a bed you’d work for us then?” There’s such amusement in his voice, but it seems a little unsettled.

“I think I’d rather retire at this point.” You admit with a sigh. “Besides, I not really skilled at anything.”

“Ah, none of that now.” He says, standing up and pouring a cup of, you think tea, before coming over to you. “Drink up.”

You don’t hesitate, draining the cup quickly. If it was poison you just hoped it was relatively painless, and if it wasn’t then at —

The dizziness hit you hard and he grabs your head, steadying you and keeping your gaze tilted up toward him.

“No more self-deprecation after this, sweet dove.” He says and before you can ask what he means, before you can sort out the tenderness of his endearing term, you succumb to the tea.

When you come around for the second time, you’re more disoriented than before. Your head’s still swimming from the tea, but nothing hurts and you don’t feel sick. The dizzy feeling keeps you laying down, but your eyes focus on the world around you.

It’s comfortable, well lit and whatever you’re laying in is soft and warm. You’re not wearing socks or boots, but there’s simple linen pants and a shirt.

They’re clean, and so are you.

There’s a soft warm scent in the room and as the dizzying feeling passes you’re able to sit up.

It looks like a bedroom. Carpeted floor, vanity, dresser, and books and a bookshelf. If not for the concrete walls you’d think you were at an inn or something.

Moving your legs to sit up you feel resistance on one and realize there’s a padded cuff around your ankle attached to heavy chain, which is itself attached to a heavy steel plate on the floor that’s pretty much the mid-point of the room.

There’s enough length you could comfortably reach everything in this room, and beyond. The door to the room opens and the young man with the wavy hair smiles in greeting.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good morning, dove.” He greets you, stepping in further with a tray of food in one hand. “Let’s get you fed, and once you’re properly awake we can talk about the terms of your surrender.”

[pinkslipxox]

Miko with a gf that's very into things like meditation, journaling, yoga & just in her spiritual girly era 🥹 por favor nena

hola mi amor!!! Ahhh omg yes, hope you like it 🤗🙈

——————————————————————————

You step into your cozy living room, the soft light filtering through the sheer curtains and casting a warm glow on the space. The aroma of sandalwood incense mingles with the faint scent of lavender, creating an atmosphere of tranquility that calms your spirit. On the low coffee table sits your vibrant journal, filled with the musings of your mind, and your meditation cushion is perfectly placed in the corner, a reminder of the peaceful routines you’ve cultivated.

As you settle onto the plush couch, you can hear the familiar sound of music drifting from the bedroom. It's Miko, your girlfriend, and she’s in her element, her flow and energy electrifying the atmosphere as she practices her rhymes. You smile to yourself, proud of her fierce persona as a rapper, yet utterly charmed by the softer side she only shows you.

Moments later, Miko appears in the doorway, her sharp features softened by a playful grin. Dressed in a loose tank top and sweatpants, her tattoos peek out tantalizingly, each marking a story of strength and defiance.

“¿Qué pasa, pequeña?” she asks, leaning against the frame with an effortless coolness that makes your heart race.

You look up from your cushion, the corner of your mouth turning up in delight. “Just meditating a little before I journal,” you reply, your voice light and filled with warmth.

“Really? You gonna write about how cute I am?” Miko teases, strutting over to you with a swagger that’s so uniquely hers. But as she gets closer, her demeanor shifts, the sweet affection taking over as she lowers herself next to you. Her muscular arms surround you, pulling you into her embrace, while her chin rests gently atop your head.

“Always,” you giggle, feeling the comfort of her presence wash over you.

“Good,” she replies, her breath warm against your hair. “I want you to remember that siempre, okay? You’re my everything.”

You lean back into her, feeling her strength and softness envelop you. Miko’s fingers brush your hair away from your neck, and she places gentle kisses against your skin, each one igniting butterflies in your stomach. You melt into her touch, the world outside fading away until it’s just the two of you.

“Tú eres tan hermosa, mami,” she murmurs in Spanglish, her voice laced with adoration.

“Thank you, Miko. You make me feel beautiful,” you whisper, your heart swelling with affection.

“Duh, how could I not? Look at you!” she replies, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, her expression softening even more. You can see the love reflected in her gaze, and it makes you feel safe and cherished. “I love seeing you in your spiritual girly era,” Miko adds, her voice playful yet sincere. She continues to cradle you, her tattooed hands gently caressing your arms. “But you know what? You don’t gotta change for me. I love the badass, spiritual goddess that you are.”

You chuckle, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. “I know, and I love the way you support me, even with all your hype and attitude.”

“Always,” she promises, planting another kiss, this time right at the nape of your neck, making you shiver slightly. “Now, how about we mix some meditative vibes with a little rap session? I can drop some bars while you get your inner zen on.”

You laugh, shaking your head at her energetic suggestion. “As if I could meditate with you spitting fire right next to me.”

“Challenge accepted, baby,” Miko teases. With a playful glint in her eye, she pulls you closer, her body a comforting wall of strength. “But for real, let’s find some balance. You teach me all about that yoga flow, and I’ll show you how to bring the heat with some sick beats.”

You nod, your spirit soaring at the thought of merging your worlds, sharing each other's passions. “I’d love that.”

As the two of you sit intertwined on the couch, the essence of your contrasting lives creates a beautiful harmony, each moment together carving out an unbreakable bond. You rest your head against her shoulder, feeling her rhythm pulse through you effortlessly, knowing that in her arms, you’ve found your sanctuary, and in her love, the freedom to be unapologetically yourself—both spiritual goddess and fierce rap queen.