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boobertronian · 7 months ago

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Muay Thai - Part 1

Jihyo x 4 Trainers

Inspired by Jihyo's Seibja Ep_13

Proofread by @vorrentis, big thanks for some ideations by @authorhjk1

Word counts : 6163 words

All works are fictions ENJOY !

After a long week traveling across Thailand, Jihyo was preparing for her next new plan on her traveling show Seibja.

The last episode had her surfing and though challenging, she had a wonderful time and now awaited for her next adventure. It wouldn’t be long as the screenwriters and directors have a suggestion, and it’s something she would be eager to take on.

Director: “Jihyo, we came up with the idea that your next challenge would be to try Muay Thai, you know about the sport right?

Jihyo: “Ohh, I’ve seen how intense that can get.”

Director: “Well if you don’t mind, how about we set that for you to try at a local gym for the next episode?”

Jihyo: smiles and nods yes! I'm wanting to get some exercise in, let’s go!"

Director : “Then I shall book it. We’ll see you in a few days about the schedules for pro trainers, but that shouldn’t be much of a problem, also our cameraman will go with you too to film it, I hope you too will work well together“

Jihyo: "I work well with anyone sir, I did spent a whole trip with many other foreigners. I can’t wait!”

A few days later

Jihyo was at her hotel lobby, passing time on her phone texting Jeongyeon.

Today was her time to get her Muay Thai episode filming and now she was waiting for her driver/cameraman to take and film her. He texted her ten minutes ago he’d be there and twelve mins have passed since

Jihyo wondered if she should call or-

"Excuse me? Ms. Park?” Jihyo looked up from her phone and noticed a man approaching her and stood up.

Jihyo: "Hey there! You’re the cameraman who will be in charge of today’s filming right? How should I call you? I'm Jihyo, no need for formalities.”

Cameraman: “The name is Jungwoo, nice to meet you. Can I say that Twice is my favorite group. When I heard about this job, I couldn’t believe it. It’s a pleasure to work with their leader.” extends hand as Jihyo shook it

Jihyo: “Then let’s have fun together Jungwoo, let’s get this Muay Thai show started!”

Jungwoo chuckles at her energy as he stands to the side and waved behind him

Jungwoo: "After you Jihyo.”

Inside the Muay Thai gym

A trainer speaking in Thai: “Uppercut! THUMP Knee strike! WHACK Elbow strike - 1-2-3 Combo! THUMP THUMP WHACK”

Jihyo: “Woah! Now this is fun I wonder if I can try those moves! And Nayeon-unnie might loves those buff dudes!” the trainer looks at Jihyo’s direction and heads to her

Trainer: "Hi there, I'm the lead coach at this facility, the name ‘s Anurak. These 2 over here are Chakan and Chalerm, are you part of the korean filming crew that i’ve been contacted with?“

Cameraman: "Yes sir, our director did talk to you a few days ago about it and we’re here for the session, this is our main star, Park Jihyo from Twice, and we’ll be filming her trying out moves for the show.” bows to them

Jihyo: “Nice to meet you all. I hope I won’t be a burden since it’s my first time with the sport!"

Anurak: "Don’t worry, we have beginners nearly everyday, and we all love to teach them how to strengthen their bodies and mind through Muay Thai, so please go prepare yourselves and we’re good to go!"

Jihyo: "See you in a bit!”

Jihyo walks out proudly from the changing room,; her gear consists of blue trousers with brown top. She shadow boxes some moves while the camerman and the trainers are getting ready.

Cameraman: “Okay Jihyo, let’s get to the ring and we’ll start.”

Anurak: "Don’t forget your arm bandages and gloves. We don’t want to break your arms and such on the first day!” after tying up her bandages and gloves

Jihyo: "Alright coach! I'm ready!”

Anurak: “Ok Jihyo, so to warm up, you will do rope skipping for 3 minutes, non-stop, are you ready?" Jihyo: "Let’s go!"

Jihyo takes a deep breath then starts skipping. Her body jumps up & down through the motion, with her big titties defies gravity along with the jumps, moving up & down each bounce she takes. The motions of her tits are so noticeable for the fighters, making their eyes stare straight to her endowed chest. Anurak (thinking) : "Damn, those are some big boobs, looks mesmerizing.” Chakan (thinking) : "Holy shit, her titties just bounce up & down like crazy.” Chalerm (thinking) : "one hell of a pair for sure “

Anurak: "Ok Jihyo, first it's about the stance, it’s very important to have a strong stance so you can be balanced while striking. Put one leg in front and one leg behind, Jihyo copies good, like that, and put your arms straight in front of your face for guarding, this will be the basic of your training.”

Jihyo: "Got it."

Anurak: “Next, you will use your right hand to punch into the pad on my right hand side of the pad, this will be the basic punch, now punch it”

WHACK

Anurak: "Good! Harder!"

THUMP WHACK THUMP

Anurak: "Very good! Now do the same thing with left hand!

WHACK

Anurak: Good! Even harder!

WHACK**WHACK

Anurak: Great. You’re a fast learner Jihyo.”

Jihyo: "What can I say~ I'm adept to everything!”

Anurak: Okay next is elbow strikes, use your right elbow to strike to my pad.

WHACK

"Good, one more."

THUMP

"Harder!"

THUMP WHACK

"Combo left right!"

THUMP WHACK

"Very good!"

Jihyo: "Woohoo my very first Muay Thai lessons! I feel pumped!" thumps her gloves together

Anurak: “You sure are! Okay, now here comes the quite challenging part, kicks, many of our beginners hurt themselves for this so be slow first. Sweep your kicks into my pads, learn the move slowly, ok good, a little more force, good, don’t loose your balance while kicking...

THUMP

"Good a bit harder!

THUMP

"Good! Harder!

WHACK

"Left kick!

WHACK

"Right kick!"

THUMP

Jihyo: "I'm getting a hang of this, it’s like learning for our choreos, but with more hits!“

Anurak: "sweet! Okat next, it’s combo strikes, you will combine what you just learned with me and strike into my pads, with both jabs, elbows and kicks, got it?”

Jihyo: "yes coach!"

Anurak: "Okay here we go! Left jab! Right jab! Good! 1-2-3 left right left! harder! Right Elbow strikes! Good! Go for the-Ooghhhhh!”

Jihyo: GASP Are you ok!? I'm so sorry!"

Chakan (in thai): "Hey coach what happened? You’re alright?

Anurak (in thai): “She kicked me in the nuts...shit, this hurts...”

Cameraman: "I'm gonna cut the filming, that looks painful.”

Jihyo: "Sorry I got to excited, my adrenaline just kicked in and I was too careless, I ruined our filming plans.“

Anurak: "Jihyo it’s okay….I'm gonna go...in the locker room...to check it out… holy crap that one hurts…”

Jihyo: "I'm seriously sorry for this, but we’ll help you what we can okay? Just call out if you need anything.”

Anurak: "I will..." hobbles out of the ring and back to the locker room

Chalerm : "Don’t be to worried Jihyo, you’re just a beginner, it could happen to anyone the first few times, we’ll take him into the lockers, and we’ll be right back.”

Few minutes later...

Chakan : "Okay so we helped him into the bench, he’ll be okay and we’ll have to wait if he can come back out, but we know our coach, he’s one tough dude.”

Jihyo: "Okay, but I think I should go check him out, Jungwoo would you mind let our director know that we’re on hold? I'm very sorry for this.”

Cameraman: "Already on it, and don’t be too harsh on yourself Jihyo, every show has delays. Let me know if there’s anything coming up okay?”

Jihyo: "Will do.”

Inside the lockers

Jihyo: "Hello, Anurak are you okay? I'm such an idiot for doing this to you..."

Anurak: "It’s alright...i’ve been through harder punches and kicks than this...but gotta say...you got quite a kick for a beginner...”

Jihyo: "Again, I'm very sorry, would you mind let me help you with it? It does sound pretty bad and seeing you like this is not my thing.”

Anurak: "But…it might feel quite awkward…for you to check my “friend”...I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to let you do that …. Just let me rest…a bit...and i’ll be back out there…”

Jihyo: "Just a quick look okay. I would feel even more inappropriate to let you on your own like that while keep going with the show, it’ll be quick, don’t be shy about it. Beside, between you and me, yours is not the first one I seen giggles, so sit straight up, put your back to the lockers and lemme have a look”

Jihyo said while pulling down his trousers slowly.

Anurak ( thinking) : 'this girl is fearless, no wonder she’s a leader, oh well, doesn’t hurt much to let her see my dick'

Jihyo: "Hey Anurak, you mind if I...touch it? I wanna see if you have any bruises."

Jihyo said while being internally excited.

Anurak: "Gulps s-sure…but pleas be gentle… "

Jihyo (giggles) : "Yes coach~” Jihyo uses to her fingers to move along the length of his dick, and then move to the ballsack, at first slow but then she suddenly uses her entire palm to massage it

Anurak" 'fuck, she’s moving too fast… too hard...to resist now …”

Jihyo: "You’re okay Anurak? You’re shaking! Did I hurt you?”

Anurak: “Keep goi-… oh shit…no please…slow down”

Jihyo ( pretends to not hearing clearly) : “Oh~ Keep going? Sure coach! Whatever you say!"

Jihyo moves her palm faster

Anurak: "Shit, at this rate I'm gonna… "

Jihyo suddenly slow down, but, she has other ideas

Jihyo: "Coach, I have this technique I learned long ago that can help you, you want me to try? It will make you feeeeel goooood~"

Anurak: "Oh no…” Jihyo slowly opens her lips and put his lengthy dick slowly into the opening of her mouth, while looking up at Anurak with her round but smiling eyes, letting his entire length moving in and out which each bop of her head straight to his crotch.

Anurak: ”Oh fuck, I can’t control it anymore, please Jihyo, whatever you do, do it quick!”

Jihyo pulls out her huge smile: ”Yes coach whatever you say~ I am your student (giggles)” then she get back to his dick, putting his entire length to the deepest part of her throat, gagging on it, slippery but not to mention, full of adrenaline.

Anurak: "Fuck Jihyo… too good...I'm gonna ...I'm gonna cum...too good...can’t hold it anymore …”

Jihyo keeps going, bobbing her head even faster like those quick javs she had with the lessons, pulling in and out of his dick just to tease him, and then go fast again to pick up the pace, leaving Anurak no room for breaks, let alone controlling his urge to cum.

Suddenly, Anurak, pulling his big dick out of Jihyo mouth, standing up while moaning out: ”Jihyo I'm cumming...ahhhhhh...fuckkkk…”””

Thick blobs of cum spurting out from his dick straight to Jihyo face, down to her sex lips and in her tongue, it’s like Anurak just hit a K.O for his win.

Jihyo (with cum in her face, mouth): ”Oh wow, he came a lot, and it’s thick, and mmmhhh taste pretty good too, wonder what he ate this morning?“

Jihyo said while using her fingers to scoop the cum away from her cheeks, nose, lips and get it all to her mouth while Anurak standing proud and panting with his dick still hard, falling back a bit to the locker.

Out of a sudden, Jihyo and anurak startle when they hear voices coming from the opening doors

Chakan: "Coach you okay? We hear your from out there. What's going on? Do we need to call for ambulance?”

Chalerm: ”Yeah, what's wit-what the…. y-you two-...”

Chakan and Chalerm just standing there, looking surprised at the messy scenario while Jihyo slowly turns her head back, and Anurak is rushing to pull his trousers on

Anurak: "Hey guys...uh...Jihyo and I… well she...helped me to ease off the soreness...well… it feels go-I mean, it feels less sore now...she...did an amazing job...for a non medical person…" Anurak talks while panting, not forgetting pulling his trousers up

Jihyo: ”yes. I helped him a bit, he’s alright now, your coach surely is a tas-...tough one to recover (giggles)

Chakan and Chalerm, (turning back and whispering to each other in thai) : “She just blew our coach's dick off like nothing, she’s wild dude.” Chakan said.

Chalerm: ”Yeah, and she’s fuckin hot, no wonder she’s one of their top idols, look at that face and her tits man, I had a boner back then just looking at them.”

Chakan: ”What should we do now, should we ask her to "help” us too? I mean...doesn’t hurt to ask right? His cum is all over her face already so why not?”

Chalerm: "Yeah, it’s not like we have this chance every day in this little facility. Might feel good hehe," they both turn back and speak out : "uh…miss Jihyo…I think we have a problem here.”

Jihyo: ”Ohh? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

Chakan: ”oh no nothing wrong, it just...we’ve been training all evening before you came for your show, and Chalerm and I are feeling pretty sore, our lower body are tensed and...I think we need some help...would you mind …” Chakan pats his crouch.

Jihyo ( thinking in her head while smiling): these naughty boys "Hehe, sure i’ll help you. let’s see how tasty they are (giggles)

Chalerm: ”So...you’ll help us miss?"

Jihyo (laugh out loud): "Hehe~ Come here you two buff boys, i’ll help you, veeeeryyy good for sure, considering this my bonus from the show okay?”

Jihyo said while hurrying getting their pants off, letting their hard dicks to pop straight out, "oh stop calling me miss, it’s too formal, just call me Jihyo.”

Chakan: "Okay Jihyo, do your thing, please, we’re “very” sore now." Quickly, the two stood on either side of Jihyo, letting her holding their dicks at the same time as Jihyo again using her tiny palms and start moving, wetting her fingers with their pre-cums.

Jihyo: "Wow, you two sure are tense hehe, I guess i’ll have double the efforts~" Then, Jihyo put her mouth into Chakan’s dick while keep stroking Chalerm’s making them moan out. She’s going slow and steady, alternating between two, making them moan louder and louder each turn.

Chakan: "Fuck Jihyo, ahhhh,...so good...where did you learn this “technique”, this is even scarier than having an uppercut to your jaw”

Chalerm: "You’re such a pro for this, are you sure you’re not "skilled” enough to beat us?"

Jihyo: "Well, like I said to Anurak, your dicks aren’t the first one i’ve seen, just ones of many hehe~"

Chakan then holds Jihyo's head, starting to pump in and out of her mouth, making Jihyo gags a bit, while Chalerm is about to do the same. The two muscular fighters alternating Jihyo mouth, fucking deep and long strokes, while she just enjoying it.

Jihyo (closing eyes and thinking): "They’re ravaging my mouth, good, I want it, been a while seeing huge dicks like this anyway, beside, I'm too high on adrenaline now, feels like I can just suck them all night”

Anurak, standing there watching his two subordinates being sucked, thinking: 'damn, she one hell of a unit, big tits nice thighs, round ass, would be good if I can see ALL of thoses assets, might get me hard again for another round'

Jihyo, being deepthroating by 2 huge dicks, doesn’t realize there’s a small sound entering the room,and suddenly something poking her nose

Jihyo :” huh ??? What’s this ??? Ehhh ? Jungwoo ?? “

Cameraman :” Jihyo i saw everything, you’re just too hot, i saw Anurak cum on your face when I slowly going back through the back door, and when those 2 coming in I couldn’t hold it anymore, i’m your huge fan since the beginning of your career and this is like a HUGE wet dream for me, I don’t wanna miss it, can i just join in ? My dick is too hard now !”

Anurak: “hey guys, it’s getting crowded here, how about we go out to the ring and continue our” training” for our guest

Jihyo :” oooohhh yesss, let’s go back there, i need more “ training” and we should resume the filimg too, don’t you think so Jungwoo ?”

Jungwoo :” ahhh yess we should ! Can’t let our filimings being delayed! Let’s go guys ! I’ll set up the camera at a GOOD corner

Everyone suddenly rushed out to the ring, half naked below, while Jihyo, in all her dirtiest thoughts, thinking there’s a way to make the filming even more interesting and impactful. After Jungwoo setting up the camera on a tripod, all four guys around Jihyo, with her kneeling in the middle smiling.

Anurak: "Okay Jihyo, next lesson, it’s about endurance, if you can “beat” all four of us, you’ll get a treat from our facility, if you can’t, well, we’ll have some “penalties“ for you. Sounds good?“

Jihyo: "Alright coach! I won’t stop until you guys all “beaten up” hehe~ Whose first."

"I am," Jungwoo walks forward as Jihyo licks her lips.

"No way, I'm going first," Chalerm points at himself.

"Just get over here, in fact, I'll go for all of you," Jihyo stated and that brought a grin to everyone.

Jihyo starts, sucking out Jungwoo first, then suddenly turn to the side and suck Chakan, while stroking Chalerm’s dick, then she keeps going with Chalerm meaty dick, while stroking Anurak, taking turns on each of them, making them moaning out loud in the ring.

Jihyo: "How’s my technique, am I doing good? Excellent?“ Jihyo said while stroking dicks.

"AMAZING” All four blurts out, it’s too good for them to describe, having Twice's curvy member blowing them out one by one like a hungry fighter beating their foe in the ring.

Jihyo doesn’t stop, she keeps gagging between dicks and alternating hands to mouth, doing rounds of blowjobs like competing in a muay thai battleground, making each of her “foes” moaning loud and hard.

Then, a huge scream came from Jungwoo as he pulls out his dick, stroking hard and cum onto Jihyo's side cheeks, nose, while Chakan and Chalerm follow, cumming onto her pretty lips, forehead, and a bit of her hair, with Anurak finishing straight in the middle of her nose and a bit on her neck, covering her beautiful face with thick white spurts of cum.

The four panted, backing up to the four corners, while slowly recover their stamina, seeing Jihyo face being covered in cum, some of it dripping down to her top and trousers. Jihyo stays quiet, in a weird silence, making the guys feel a bit scared.

Cameraman: "Jihyo?… uh …you okay? Did…did we go too far?

Anurak: "Oh shit, I think we …. I think we really did go quite far… she seems…. upset… what should we do?"

Chakan and Chalerm: "Coach...it’s… it’s our fault… we were just being too horny seeing her...damn it… we might get in huge trouble for this ..”

“NO!” the four guys shocked to their ears hearing Jihyo screams loudly.

Anurak tries to calm down the situation by speaking calmly: "Hey Jihyo we’re sorry...we should’ve sto..”

“NO”, Jihyo shout, with continue dripping on her face and mouth "I LOVE IT, FUCK, FORGET THIS FILMING, I DON’T CARE, THAT WAS THE BEST THING I’VE HAD IN MONTHS AND I WON’T LET IT STOP HERE!”

Jungwoo, in his surprise, asking: "Jihyo did you say you...love it? Did I hear it right?”

"FUCK YEAH I DO” Jihyo keeps it as loud as she can, “KEEP THE CAMERA ROLL, BUT NOT FOR THE SHOW, FOR ME, TELL THE DIRECTOR WE’RE DELAYING, ALL FOUR OF YOU ARE STILL HARD SO I NEED YOU TO FUCK ME AS MUCH AS YOU CAN, FILL ME UP, CUM ON ME, I WON’T LEAVE THIS PLACE WITHOUT CUM ALL OVER AND IN ME TODAY, YOU GOT ME?!”

All four: "Yes Jihyo!”

In quick succession, all four starting to throw away all the clothes, getting their buff bodies out in front of Twice leader, making Jihyo eyes light up and open wide seeing them, feels excited for the wildest event in her life so far.

Like hungry animals they rush up to her quickly to grope her tits, grab her big mounds, pinch her brown nipples, move down along her abs and grope a handful of her ass, help her standing moving those rough palms all over her body.

Jihyo, being really into it, push the hands out of her for a moment, using her strong grip to rip off her clothes, throws them out of the ring like dirty rags, fully displays her entire assets for the guys to see while their dicks are straight up like pistols.

All of them shouting out “ooohhhhh” when Jihyo, flips her hair a bit, grabs her tits and mashes them together, her juicy nipples rub onto each other.

She then waves her curvy ass by using her solo song’s dance as a tease for the guys.

Quickly, Jihyo stops, blurts out: "What the heck are you waiting for, come take me! Go ahead and really FUCK me!”

The four guys, in their naked selves, resuming with their hands on Jihyo tits, nipples, ass, running along her abs and pussy, with chakan and Chalerm suck each side of her tits, lift her up to the top and second rope, while jungwoo and anurak take turns fingering her pussy and tiny anus, alternate their tongues between two holes.

All groped and licked Jihyo tan-skinned body from top to bottom like a full course meal, with Jihyo’s body is dangling on the rope being "served” with full pleasure and attention. Jihyo, feels too good she could hardly forms any words, does her best to spill out :

” FUCK, YESS, suck them, SUCK MY TITS, EAT MY HOLES OUT, goddamn it,DON’T FUCKIN STOP!”

The four guys and Jihyo, continue the sinful act on the ring for a while, alternating between her assets, making Jihyo squirts a huge stream out all on the ring floor, leaving some trails as the four guys shouting out "woooowwww” again

Anurak then says out loud : "You squirt on our ring floor, now it’s time for us to give you the REAL lesson, let’s go boys, you know what to do!”

Jihyo is still feeling enamored with the sensation, suddenly being put down to her feet.

Seemingly understand the situation, she puts out a huge smile and goes to the middle of the ring, drops down on all four, with the intention of using the camera angle, invites them by taking one of her hand to her butt cheeks and pulls it apart, showing her pink pussy and puckered anus, ready for whatever comes next.

Knowing exactly what to do, Anurak orders Jungwoo to get in front of Jihyo, while he himself lines up to her pussy, slowly enters his dick in her tight walls while kneading her butt cheeks, making Jihyo moans out and squinting her eyes a bit, but then get shut fast by Jungwoo’s dick in her mouth, still loving the feeling of deep throating his number one idol, with his hands groping her big tits.

The two start to pump in and out, leaving Jihyo a real mess in the middle, spit roast her while Chakan and Chalerm masturbate themselves, patiently waiting for their turns.

Jihyo, being filled both ends, having a real time of her life, her butt cheeks ripple in every poundings while her tits dangling back and forth, and her entire face keep touching in and out of Jungwoo’s crotch.

Even better, when the two starts to switch out, making Jihyo forms a puddle of drools between each switches, enjoys endless pleasure. Chakan and Chalerm, get their huge dicks ready, both agree they will have other plans for her.

After Jungwoo and Anurak both pull out, Jihyo, feels a bit disappointed, asks out loud while panting slightly : "Wait what? Is that all you got? I'm not done yet! We didn’t even cum! What about my other hole? That one needs a cock too! Hurry up and put yours back in! I don’t wanna wait!"

Her pleas are being full filled right away, as Chakan and Chalerm tell her their plans: "Jihyo, I think you will really enjoy this, let us show you!"

Both then quickly get into their position, while Chakan lays flat on the floor, letting Jihyo rides on top of him, with her tits bounce up & down each pounding, but also does his best to pull Jihyo’s tits close to his muscular chest.

Chalerm, has a spicier idea, takes a deep breath, gently pushes Jihyo down even closer to Chakan’s chest, enters his huge dick into her tiny anus, making Jihyo screams out loud like a full volume amplifier:

"ARGHHH !! FUCKK !! YOU TWO ARE STRETCHING ME APART !!! FUCK !!! DO WHATEVER YOU’RE GONNA DO! HURRY!"

The act continues with Jihyo being pumped in and out with two dicks in her holes. Chakan and Chalerm do their best to match each other pacing, just like how they do training practices with each other, but this time, both their cocks run in and out Twice’s leader, fill her whole.

Chakan, asks out while continue his pumps : "How you do you feel Jihyo, having two dicks inside you, you ever had this before? Your walls are crushing us too hard now!"

Jihyo, with her eyes nearly roll back, mouth opens, keeps on panting and moaning, screams loud and clear like she’s hitting her high notes : "I LOVE IT, GOSH I FEEL SO GOOD NOW! FUCKK !! YOU DICKS …. YOUR DICKS ARE TOO DEEP INSIDE ME NOW, DON’T STOP FUCKING MY TIGHT HOLES !!! DON’T STOPPPP !!!”.

Jihyo’s anus and pussy, like they’re sharing a single mind, tightly wrap around the two cocks even harder, making Chakan and Chalerm feel like heaven on earth, with each cock senses the presences of each other, but also the warmth of Jihyo’s caverns. And without a doubt, the two fighters reach their climax, do their very best to hold it together just to savor more moments with Jihyo’s two holes .

Chalerm ( finally able to speak out) :"oh fuckk, gonna cun, deep in this tight anus …”

Chakan, also blurts out :"yess !!! Fuckkk !! Gonna ...gonna fill your pussy Jihyo !!”

Jihyo: "Give it to me! Fuck! REALLY CUM IN MY HOLES !! FILL THOSE UP !!!! GIVE ME YOUR HUGE LOADS !!!!"

And so they both did, with their dicks explode inside Jihyo tight walls, feeling her holes clenching the very last of their cum.

As they slowly pull out, thick blobs of cum leaking out from Jihyo pussy and anal hole, staining the ring floor below, making Jihyo feels proud but sore at the ring floor, but she just loves the feeling, love being stretched out.

Jihyo, lays flat on the ring mat, face up to the ceiling, body slightly twitching and shaking, with cum continuing to flow out of both her pussy and anus, thinking to herself:

"Fuck...they...fucked me good… in my two holes...at the same time...but my adrenaline is still too high...I want ...more of this… shit ...i can even ...go all day...if they can...I can just let them keep..."jabbing” inside me...for rounds …”

The session continues, but this time with Anurak and Jungwoo replace Chakan and Chalerm, whom taking a small break after their enjoyments, both sitting down next to the ring’s corners.

Anurak suddenly picks Jihyo up her feet, with the help of Jungwoo, bot carry her to a ring corner opposing the camera’s view, with Anurak rests his back to it, starts to use his fingers to tease Jihyo’s asshole.

Jihyo, surprises by the act, moans out a bit while using her right hand to pull Jungwoo in for a small kiss, with her other hand forcefully strokes his cock.

As Anurak stops the tease with his finger, he lines up the tip of his cock to Jihyo’s tiny hole, whispers to her right ear: "Are you ready for another round of this Jihyo? We will do as hard as we can for you!"

Jihyo, being excited for the situation, says out loud : "Yesss !!!! Go ahead !!! FUCK MY HOLES YOU TWO!!"

Jungwoo: "We will !! And you’ll love it !!”

And so, Anurak, slowly pushes his dick to Jihyo’s anus, passing the tip, with Jihyo moans while panting hard, and even louder once he pushes his entire shaft through the warmth of her tight hole, stretching her wide.

In front, Jungwoo gets the cue from Anurak, also slowly slides his dick into Jihyo’s pussy, struggling a bit due to the position of her pussy, but only takes him a while before both cocks are sheathed inside her two holes, making Jihyo once again screams loudly to their ears:

"FUCKKK! SOOO BIGG! FUCK MY HOLES NOW!”

With that, the two guys start their movements, pump in and out of Jihyo’s holes, let her tiptoe on one leg between the two, while her other leg wraps around Jungwoo’s waist.

As Jungwoo keeps on sliding his dick in and out, he uses his hands to grope Jihyo’s big tits, grabbing huge amounts while also uses his fingers to pinch her nipples, to the point which Jihyo fiercely reaches both of her arms to push his face into her tits, making Jungwoo both surprises but also has the time of his life enjoying her huge titties.

Anurak, from behind, even though he couldn’t see much of the action in front, still enjoys having his dick inside the tightness Jihyo’s ass, does his best to hold her hips, with Jihyo leans onto his abs and thighs, while his face somewhat rubs into the back of her hair.

Even at one point Anurak has to tell Jungwoo to stays still a bit so he can enjoy ramming straight into Jihyo plump butt cheeks and tight asshole, making Jihyo groans out loud :

"FUCK !!! TWO COCKS !!! YOUR TWO COCKS ARE RAMMING IN ME HARD !!! FUCKK !!! I'M SO STUFFED !! FUCKK !!! FUCK ME MORE !! I WANT MORE !!”

A moment later, Anurak gives sign to Jungwoo so they can move down to to ring mat, as it was quite a challenge for their position.

They both pulls out from Jihyo’s holes in one go, as Jihyo groans out in disappointment for the sudden pause, but, she doesn’t have to wait for long.

Jungwoo, lies back flat to the mat, dick points up to the ceiling, while Anurak is helping Jihyo to sit down to his dick in a reverse position, with his dick going straight up her tight ass, causing both Jihyo and Jungwoo cry out loudly together:

"FUCKKK!!”

Anurak, kneels to down Jihyo, put his dick inside her pussy, spreads her legs out to the side widely, with one of his hand gropes her tits while the other pins down to the ring mat.

Jihyo, being stuffed both ways and full of excitement, continues scream as loud as she can when the two guys start their movements, but this time, they pick up the pace, ramming her hard and nonstop.

Each time the two of them is hitting the deepest part of her holes, to the point Jihyo has to use her entire vocal cords to scream out loud

”ARHHHHH !!! FUCKKK !!!! HIT ME DEEPER !!!! FUCKKKK !!!! DON’T STOP FUCKING ME!!!! ARGHHH I FEEL SO FUCKIN GOOD !!!”

Jihyo’s scream is a huge motivation for the two to keep tearing out her holes.

Jihyo, with sweat all over her face down to her heaving tits bouncing up & down, starts groaning in random Korean words that are hard to understand.

Anurak, finally able to open his mouth after a long while panting : "Jihyo, I think I'm close...I will fill your pussy...fuckk...it’s too good!!!! Your pussy is too tight!!!! It’s squeezing my dick hard!!! I… can’t hold it any longer …!!”

Jungwoo, does the best of his abilities, also says out loud : "Jihyo, I love your tight anus …. So much !!! I'm…I'm gonna cum soon too !!!”

Jihyo is still having the time of her life, shouts out straight to their eardrums :

"THEN GO ON AND FUCKING CUM IN ME !!! FLOOD MY HOLES! MAKE ME CUM TOO !! DO IT !!!! DO IT NOW !! FILL ME !!”

And with that, the three cum loudly,, with Jungwoo moans out, shoots his cum straight into Jihyo’s anus, while Anurak, pummels his semen straight into Jihyo’s pussy, mixing his with her messy cum, spill onto their bodies.

The three pause a bit in that position, then Anurak pulls out, with huge blobs of cum flows out from Jihyo’s tight vagina.

Jungwoo then again follows, has his dick being removed from Jihyo’s asshole, leaks some of his to the mat as well.

Jihyo, once again enjoys her pleasure, rolls off Jungwoo and to the side, breathes out hard with her eyes close, full of sweats all over her body, her tits are heaving up & down, and cum leaking out of her holes in thick streams, making the mat’s being stained with cum and sweats.

But, even in her messy state, Jihyo, smiles while knowing that, this is surely not the end of this session.

After a few minutes of rests, the session continues, albeit with full force from the guys.

From having Jihyo being prone bone straight to the mat, tits mash to the flat surface, taking each dick in the two of her holes, filling her entirely and repeatedly, to having Jihyo holds her grips onto the top or second rope, in standing doggy position, being pounded hard from cocks to cocks, as she screams and cum onto the ropes and the mat, covered the whole ring with her cum.

The real highlight, is when Jihyo, while having two cocks in her holes, both of her hands on both side stroke two more dicks, alternate between sucking and stroking left and right, while her eyes are peeking or looking straight to the camera lens.

Jihyo’s lewd but beautiful face, combine with the most sinful acts she could’ve done in her entire career, being recorded on camera is something could come straight out of a porno, but for Jihyo, it’s nothing but an entire adrenaline- filled workout session.

A while later, the four guys later rest themselves in different corners of the ring, with Jihyo in the middle of it to take their breathers.

Jihyo then slowly gets up, plays around with her cum filled pussy while wiping off some of her sweat, asks up :

"Hey guys...one more time...spill on me...make my body covered in cum...let's go...one more final round..."

The four guys lazily gets up, with Anurak moves his body and sore dick onto Jihyo’s tits, moves up and down between her rack.

Chakan and Chalerm soon follow, by letting Jihyo strokes their dicks to prepare for their own titfucks, and lastly Jungwoo finally rises up from his tired self, walks towards the 3.

Anurak, with his dick hard and face’s reddened, getting close to his climax, cries out : "I'm gonna fuckin cum on your tits Jihyo, they're too good not to'

Chakan and Chalerm, both are following their coaches: "we're gonna cum on your pretty face Jihyo, gonna covered that face again"

Last but not least, Jungwoo, while, tired, doing his best to say it out loud : "I'm...fuck ...I'm gonna...cum in your mouth Jihyo...I want you to taste my cum...one last time…”

Jihyo: "DO IT! FUCKIN CUM ON ME! ANYWHERE YOU WANT !! COVER ME IN YOUR CUM !! FUCKIN PAINT ME !! GIVE ME YOUR CUM K.O!!”

In the matter of seconds, Anurak cums hard, spills his thick cum all over Jihyo’s tits and nipples, making a huge mess down below her neck to her rack.

Following by Chakan, who's cum flys straight onto Jihyo’s right side, thick white spurt of cum splashing on to her cheek and nose, with a bit on her forehead.

Chalerm, holds it in for a while, finally releases it straight to Jihyo’s other cheek, side lips and hair.

Both guys later tap their dicks on each of her big tits, both cocks are smearing the cum onto her nipples while bumping fist with each other, with Jihyo does her best to open her eyes, cum covered, cracks out a huge smile.

Jungwoo, does the same thing he did before, pokes his cock straight to her lips, pushes it in and out Jihyo's mouth for the final drain, and he does proudly, cums straight into her throat, all over her tongue, with a bit onto her front lips, finally finish this long sexual act.

The four guys drop to their knees, finally passing out from the intense rounds of cum draining, all are having their K.O like they just finished a championship match.

Jihyo wipes some of the cum on her face, parts of it from her tits, rise up and shakily walks over the tripod.

Her tits jiggle with cum roll down from her tits to her abs and thighs, while her pussy and anus leak out even more down the inside of her legs, staining the ring floor every steps she makes.

The training session might be wrapped with delays, but nonetheless with her full satisfactions.

Jihyo looks straight to the camera, opens her mouth full of cum, swallows it in one go, then turns back to the guys and says: "So guys, we'll redo the show tomorrow? Will be hella fun hehe~”

#twice jihyo #park jihyo #twice #twice smut #jihyo smut #kpop smut #jihyo x reader

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goldenstring6123 · 1 year ago

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Lnds: The boys as parents

Warning: Long post ahead! 3.7K words in total! reader is MC! f!reader, AFAB!reader, implied abortion

Author's note: I went a little too overboard and specific with this one... IDK if you guys will like it. Might make a part 2/Individual fics it this post does well!

Zayne as a father:

He became a parent to 2 kids, both adopted. The eldest is a boy, and the youngest is a girl.

After a life-threatening complication when you were pregnant (it involved the problem in your heart, you and your husband decided to adopt instead. The first was a 4-year-old boy and, later on, a 2-year-old girl from an island near Linkon City.

Zayne works hard as a chief surgeon; even then, the pay at AKSO Hospital is no joke. Despite preparing more than enough money to live comfortably with a child, something within him fueled his desire to do better: before you got married, he worked hard to become a part of the Hospital's board of directors. This allowed him to control his time more and spend fewer hours working.

When you and Zayne adopted your first boy, a 4-year-old named Elias, you met him as a quiet little boy which you found working hard to try and read an outdated newspaper on the island. A few months later, you discovered your now-son's interests in academics and learning. Zayne was pleasantly surprised to see his little boy eager to learn about things outside of the island, so much so that the chief surgeon almost immediately registered him to enter formal schooling.

Most people would assume that, like himself, he expected his son to achieve great things in school, but on some school nights, before bedtime, Zayne would talk to your son. "You're doing well in school, Elias. But don't forget to have fun." You thought Zayne would never really have time to visit your son's plays and school activities. Still, much to your surprise, he was there for most of it, especially in events where your son is involved. It was such a comedic sight watching your husband hold a noncellular camera.

Being a part of the hospital board of directors meant long and lengthy meetings, so there were times when he still had to work late and leave beyond working hours. Sometimes, you let your son stay up and accompany you to pick up your husband. Of course, that's also to buy a hotpot for a midnight snack on the way. There were also times when you and your son would fall asleep on the couch waiting for him. He quickly picks you up and places you on his bed, tucking you and himself five minutes later. The next thing you know, it's morning, and the smell of waffles is wafting in the air.

He wasn't outwardly affectionate, but it's more than evident that he loves his son. He praises him to his colleagues (unknowingly), and he gives him gifts, and the cost doesn't matter. But sometimes, he shows love to his child through words, Complimenting his son's actions and skills.

He rarely scolds his son as he's the less strict parent. Your dynamic is the type where if you don't allow your son to go do something, he'll call his dad for backup. You almost always give in. Zayne never really puts his hand on his son. Instead, he opts for a more, face-the-consequence-of-your-actions type of dad. He lets his son be and ensures Elias learns that there are things he can't and shouldn't do. On more bad days, when your son is extremely hard-headed, Zayne will tell him what to do.

A few years later, despite many ups and downs, both of you decided to adopt from the same island again. It was a year-old infant named Penelope who was handed to the orphanage due to the death of her mother.

Between the two of you, Zayne was the one who fell in love first. He never expected to be a girl dad, and he didn't think too much of it until he saw her in your arms. The first thing she did was grab his finger and giggle, looking so beautiful against the island's sunset.

When she grew a bit older, Zayne became fond of how she began to resemble you in terms of actions and personality. She was undoubtedly the type of kid to make a fuss about the little things and act cunningly to get her way and, at the same time, not cry over the things that made her sad or hurt her.

She was often seen with you and clinging to you if not Elias. With her, things were an unspoken competition between Elias and Zayne. He was her first in many things: first dance, first time riding a bike, and first parent to be called by her, except for the first kiss. Her first kiss was given to his older brother, and it was on the forehead. Zayne sulked for the rest of the day while your son held that against him, stating that his little sister loves him more than his dad.

Despite this, Zayne and Elias developed another thing, an unspoken urge to protect the little girl. It may not seem like it, but Elias always focuses on Penelope, ensuring she's doing alright in school and having fun. Zayne sometimes sneaks into the daycare to peek at her daughter's condition. On Zayne's day off, Elias would tell stories about what Penelope does on a day-to-day basis. Thanks to his son, he was well-versed in her daughter's life events despite working a lot in the Hospital.

Xavier as a father:

Xavier is a father to one male child.

It was an unplanned pregnancy, which you only realized when you had your Quarterly checkup at headquarters. The doctor ruled you unfit to work on the field because you were carrying a month-old baby. You gagged at the news, and on the same day, you told Xavier. He just stared at you and turned red.

Xavier was…enthusiastic(?) with your pregnancy. Despite being the type not to really change when you were pregnant, he was always on guard and on your beck and call, buying out whatever cravings you had, even at midnight or on a rainy day (He was the one having cravings; You settled with whatever food you had in the house.)

While you were at home resting with him, you observed his behavior change. He was more silent than usual, looking out of the window; when you asked, he told you that his having a child felt like a fever dream. Xavier was unprepared to be a father but willing to learn. His trove of light novels and comic books slowly began to be invaded by parent magazines and guidebooks on caring for an infant. If he has some day off, he will be by your side to help you do stuff around the house or attend parenting classes behind your back.

When you gave birth, even through the amniotic fluid and white stuff covering the child, you could easily see that he was a pure carbon copy of Xavier. There was no part of the little baby that resembled you at all. Both in physical appearance and in attitude. Xavier cried tears of joy upon seeing your child born, albeit he never showed anyone his crying face. You know he did because his eyes and nose were puffier than usual.

The baby was quiet; it coos, plays with its saliva, and asks for a lot of milk, but I rarely cry. The only time it cries is if a loud sound is disturbing it from sleeping. And even when he cries, gently tapping and lulling him within five minutes will stop the little guy from crying.

The baby was attached to him. The baby would unknowingly leer towards him whenever he was around, asking to be picked up, to which Xavier would happily do so. He was a sleepy child and liked to nap even in broad daylight. He was easily fed and didn't put up much of a fight, even in his older years.

At the age of three, it was the beginning period where his little meek personality began to change. The kid was adventurous and the curious type. He was often found in his own world observing the little things in life, like a trail of ants or a kitten atop a tree branch, yet it seemed like he was curious to learn more things. He liked to observe from up close, which is why he was often seen on tiptoes trying to look over a lot of stuff or squatting down to observe the smaller insects on the ground.

To help him foster his talents and strengths, Xavier brings him to the headquarters once a week to let him run around and train. You were against it initially, but seeing your little boy imitate his father with clumsy focus made your heart swoon. A few years later. The kid was in school; Xavier was the one who attended the boy's school activities as you had to work most of the time, leading a team of your own.

He was doing well compared to the average students in school. Still, the teacher complained that the little boy kept sleeping in class, often getting him scolded and demerit. Xavier scratched his head and apologized, saying the little boy must've been exhausted after midnight play-dates with him.

Xavier keeps physical albums in his home, one for the family, one for you and him, and one dedicated to your child's life. Much to your surprise, he was more hands-on with his child than you might expect. Xavier never lets you carry your son for too long; he's afraid that you would collapse from exhaustion. He'd also be the one to put him to sleep, almost always falling asleep with his own son.

He's not the type to gift his child physical things (he still does occasionally). He would prefer to take you guys out to different locations, like a new arcade, a new park, or a place where your son could explore freely and safely. Xavier adores his child and keeps a photo of him on his lock screen. On his desk is a family picture of you and him that you take every year.

Xavier was the favorite parent when the little boy grew up because he was calmer, more collected, and the cooler one between you two. It's not that you weren't, but you know how boys are. Xavier tells his son many stories that he passes off as "fairytales" when, in reality, it was actually his real adventures in the decades he has lived and worked. But his favorite ones were when he and you fought against the wanderers side to side.

Needless to say, Xavier was a role model and a doting father. Because his appearance never really changed, at some point in the far future, he would be mistaken as the little boy's twin brother instead. It became a running joke in your family, so much so that out of pity, your son decided to dye his hair a different color to make him distinguishable.

Xavier and your son continued to have a boss and subordinate relationship in the hunter's association, which a lot of people really admired. On the other hand, you ran the bigger team and were on the field most of the time. Memories of regular days are filled with seeing each other in the medical Bay, on the field, or in a restaurant after a long fight on the field.

Rafayel as a father:

Father to two girls.

Rafayel's baby was not planned. In fact, he never believed you were pregnant until he saw signs of your body changing, especially the morning sickness and cravings. It's not that he didn't want to be a father, but it was simply too sudden for him, and he couldn't absorb it well.

He went a little overboard in preparation, hoarding many little clothes that your child would definitely outgrow. He brags about your pregnancy to many people, saying he's excited to be a father and always wanted a family of his own. People congratulate you a lot, even if you don't know who they are. On random days, you keep getting mail for some reason, and it's oversized packages: bassinets, branded feeding bottles, bottle steamers, and a box full of infant diapers. Safe to say, you really didn't need to buy a lot of things for your little passenger.

Unlike you, who was pretty lenient in designing the bedroom for your daughter, he was nit-picky as hell. The interior designer and suppliers had a hard time dealing with your husband, and you could only apologize secretly on his behalf. Nonetheless, the room turned out to be more beautiful than you expected.

When the baby arrived, he was crying, but he denied it. Yet everyone in the room could see him cry like a diva. Everyone wanted to see the baby, and so did your friends. Still, to your surprise, Rafayel refrained from letting anyone visit you for fear of the infant contracting any diseases from the visitors.

You decided to name her Anastasia. He was undeniably meant to be a girl dad. There was no day in the week when the little baby was dressed poorly. She would always wear on-brand clothes; even simple pajamas cost more than they should. He bought her dolls, stuffed toys, and those big dollhouses collectors buy.

When the little baby girl grew up and began to attend school, Rafayel would always ask for a kiss on the cheek, which your daughter would happily give.

Rafayel likes to gossip with you and your daughter, and he is a good source of news because he always knows the juicier side of stories. With your daughter, he knows the reputation of each and every parent. Sometimes, they go too far and pick on your daughter's classmates, e.g., telling them that their clothes are old-fashioned or that one kid looks like a mean bully. The bad thing is, your daughter thinks so as well. You and Rafayel once went to her sports day competition and saw her play a three-legged race partnered with a boy. You could see the smoke coming out of Rafayel's head, and you had to cover his mouth because he was uttering profanities. Something like: "Get your hands off my daughter, you little…"

Raf likes to give gifts as a sign of affection, and your daughter is thankful, but on special days, she doesn't request anything. Instead, she insists on having a dad-daughter date instead. Thanks to those moments, Raf began to lean more towards spending time together rather than showering her with gifts.

She grew up replicating Rafayel's diva-ness as her form of humor, and she usually tries to get away with stuff using that method. But she was family-oriented, being the type to show affection outwardly. She most definitely became a daddy's girl and would always go to him for help.

Later on, when your first child reached her teen years, you decided to have another child, and this time, it was a girl whom you named Charlotte. Rafayel was more tamed with the room decoration this time, but not with the gifts and outfits. He didn't allow any secondhand items from Anastasia to be given to the younger one.

Rafayel, despite already being a seasoned dad, was more overprotective with his second daughter, hiring a nanny for her. He would be restless if he didn't manage to see her for two days, so he refrained from going out of town unless necessary. If he did, however, he would always call you and ask how Charlotte was doing. You would turn the phone to your daughter, but she wouldn't pay him any mind and continue coloring in her little notebook.

Unlike Anastasia, Charlotte preferred to be with you. She was the more reserved of the two siblings, but she was mature for her age. She knew what she wanted and would outwardly deny if whatever she was doing or receiving was not to her liking. She wasn't that dramatic and would just stare at her sister or father whenever they exaggerated their emotions in front of her.

Sometimes, you and Charlotte just like to watch your other daughter and your husband act all dramatic. Then you just brush them off and spend your day drinking tea and eating cupcakes.

Sylus as a father

Sylus is the father of twins. One boy, one girl.

You weren't married when you found out you were pregnant; you were his lover by then, but you were severely unprepared to have children, considering the environment you guys were in. You got married in secret, and he made a promise to protect you and your children despite living in the N109 zone.

Upon the birth of your children, he was mainly on edge. He got you the best doctors and midwives. Although your birth was surprisingly smooth sailing, you heard some stories from the nurses nearby about how Sylus was threatening a doctor if you ended up with complications. Thankfully, the twins were delivered safely.

Between the twins, the eldest is a girl you named Mauve, and the boy, Claude. Mauve had your eyes, but his hair color was daunting, and he had a more pale skin tone, while Claude resembled you more than Sylus, except for his eyes.

Sylus didn't care much for the children; he made that apparent by focusing more on you and his work and leaving the kids to the nanny. That quickly changed after six months. On a random day, he saw you tending to your children, both sleeping soundly in your arms. You seemed at peace inside the bedroom, looking out into the distance. Something switched inside of Sylus, which neither of you can point out, but there was one thing for sure: You guys were now a family.

The mindset change perplexed you the most because, beginning that day, Sylus made a quiet effort to learn how to take care of the twins. He was often seen with the nanny, asking for specific methods of washing the feeding bottles or bathing the twins. And in no less than a month, he was practically the one taking care of your children whenever he was at home.

Sylus doesn't spoil his children more than necessary. Sure, they had rooms of their own and a decent amount of toys, branded items, and clothes, but he only gave them a little more than necessary. He firmly believes that children should learn to work hard at an early age to not get disappointed in the future; you scolded him for that, though, after all, they were just children.

Sylus always plays with his children whenever he can. He doesn't like it when family time is interrupted by business, so he ensures no one disturbs the residence until you and the children have had enough fun. His play methods are surprisingly tame and even comedic; after all, the sight of Sylus dawning twin-tails and stickers on his face doesn't come by that often. On days when he's out of town, Luke and Kieran are the ones who play with the children, and not even they can withstand the dress-up and role-play.

Whenever things get complicated in the organization, or even a hint of danger lurks around the family, Sylus sends you and the children away to a residence under a different name. It was located on a more private island, which only his private jet could access. Then, he deals with the problem as swiftly as possible.

A few more years later, Sylus changed. His principle of hard work equals good rewards shifted, and he slowly began to spoil the twins. They were spoiled, but it was surprising that they were obedient. That is until you spied around them when you were supposed to be at work. It was thanks to this that you realized another thing: Sylus is the type of father who says, "I can't do anything, your mother said no. Sorry, kids." when you're around and "C'mon kids, who will scold you? Your mom is at work, and I'm the parent in charge!" when you're not.

Thanks to this, you also discovered the real nature of your children behind the nice, good children facade.

They were naughty: They liked to play pranks on your husband, but Sylus always outsmarts them. You constantly wondered where they were picking up these silly pranks until you saw them huddled together with Luke and Kieran in a random corner of the house.

The twins were cunning: They greeted guests with a smile and treated maids with care, but they sneaked around the staff room and reported to Sylus what they heard. Once, they broke a vase and convinced you that Mephisto did it.

They were eccentric: The smiles on their faces were business smiles whenever other people were around. Note they were smiling ear to ear, but their smile was unsettling once you realized that you had entered the house of Onichynus' leader. It was almost threatening even.

Sylus, despite not looking like it, valued education as he believed it could give his children an advantage. Still, he'd let his children be street-smart rather than book-smart. Because of this belief, he would bring his children around for business meetings and less dangerous missions. You once argued with him over the twins' safety. Still, they reassured you that they're more than capable of protecting themselves.

A few years later, into adulthood, Claude was quietly regarded as a lethal weapon due to his proficiency in engineering (nuclear & Chemical) and in statistics; His background and frightening loyalty to his father and Onychinus amplified the organization's fearsome reputation.

On the other hand, Mauve was the front of Onychinus, often leaving the country to make business deals on behalf of his father, who was busy working at home. The woman was responsible. She was undoubtedly a gambler who believed high stakes = high rewards, yet she had never once lost that gamble.

But when you and your family get together for dinner every week, it's like they're the most mundane family ever, talking about what they hear out on the street and what the new neighbors are up to or what new places to visit in Linkon City. You just…came to accept it.

Author's footnotes: Alright this post is too long for my own liking but it would be longer if I go in depth about your family details. and at this point, this is like an AU... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

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clara-a7 · 4 months ago

Text

Ｆ１ＲＯＯＫＩＥＳＧＲＩＤ | 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖 dnf

彡CONTAINS ; jack doohan, isack hadjar, gabriel bortoleto, ollie bearman, kimi antonelli

彡WARNINGS ; crying, crash

彡RESQUESTED? ; No~ (requests are open!)

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

A/N ; Sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language, not my best writing

⤷Jack Doohan

It was a big day, Jack’s home race in Australia. You stood in his garage, watching anxiously as the race began. But not even a lap in, everything fell apart.

Jack lost control. His car spun out and slammed into the wall. The collective gasp of the crowd echoed through the air, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat hammering in your chest. A DNF. His first home race, and it ended before it even truly began.

When he finally stepped into the garage, his eyes found yours instantly. His heart was already heavy, weighed down by disappointment and frustration, but seeing the tears streaking your cheeks made it even worse. He hadn’t just let down his team, he had let down the people who loved him.

Ignoring the pit crew, the engineers, and even the team director’s piercing gaze, Jack walked straight to you. His only concern was you.

Wordlessly, he cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours. His touch was warm, grounding despite the storm raging inside him.

“Babe…” he murmured, his voice laced with sorrow. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his sad eyes searching yours.

You tried to blink away the tears, tried to stay strong for him. “Please don’t be sad, babe. What matters most is that you’re okay.”

Your hands found his, squeezing them gently, trying to pour every ounce of comfort you could into your touch. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m still so proud of you.”

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. “Babe… I’m so glad to have you.”

He gave you one last lingering kiss on your cheek before he was pulled away by his team, their expressions serious, their words already forming reprimands. But for just a moment, none of that mattered because in his lowest moment, he had you.

⤷Isack Hadjar

Today was supposed to be everything he had dreamed of his first Formula 1 race. After a strong qualifying session, he had placed as the best rookie on the grid. He was ready. A little nervous about the rain, but still eager to prove himself to the team.

But before he even had the chance, it all went wrong.

During the formation lap, he lost control. The car spun, slamming into the wall. Just like that, his debut ended before it even began.

Isaac entered his driver’s room, shoulders tense, avoiding the worried glances from you and his parents. Silently, he pulled off his helmet and gloves, placing them on the table beside you.

“I don’t want to talk about it…” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

You exchanged worried looks with his parents, but his mother was the first to respond.

“That’s okay, mon cœur. Take your time,” she said softly, wrapping him in a gentle hug as his father stood beside them, offering quiet support.

After a few moments, they gave him space, leaving the room so the two of you could be alone.

You hesitated before stepping closer, trying to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at you. Your heart clenched at the sight his eyes red, tears drying on his cheeks. You knew Isaac well. He wasn’t one to talk when he was hurting, and no words of reassurance would reach him right now.

So, without warning, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

At first, he didn’t react. He just stood there, tense and unresponsive. But then, as the familiar scent of your perfume surrounded him, something in him eased. His arms came around you, holding you even tighter, his chin resting on your shoulder as he exhaled shakily.

“I just want to go back to the hotel…” he whispered against your ear.

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“Okay, love. Let’s go.”

For now, you didn’t need words just each other.

⤷Gabriel Bortoleto

His first F1 race. The atmosphere was electric, but tension weighed heavily in the air. After multiple crashes throughout the race, your hands were clammy, gripping onto the fabric of your jacket as you watched anxiously. Ten laps to go. Gabriel was holding onto P14 not where he wanted to be, but still pushing, still fighting.

Then, disaster struck.

Lap 47. He lost control in the Mouillier turn. The car snapped out from under him, skidding across the track before slamming into the wall and coming to a halt in the gravel trap. Your breath hitched. The seconds dragged as you waited for a sign any sign that he was okay. Then, finally, his voice crackled over the radio.

“I’m okay.”

Relief flooded through you, but it didn’t erase the sinking feeling in your chest. You knew how much this meant to him. His first race, and it ended like this.

By the time he finished the post-race interviews and debrief with his team, you were already waiting for him in the paddock, arms crossed tightly, trying to keep your emotions in check. A gentle pressure on your shoulder made you turn around.

Gabriel stood there, his face calm, a small reassuring smile tugging at his lips. But you could see the sadness beneath it the way his eyes lacked their usual spark, the way his shoulders sagged just slightly.

“I’m okay, don’t worry, babe,” he said softly.

You didn’t reply right away. Instead, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. His grip tightened just a little, like he needed something to ground him.

“I know you are,” you murmured, stepping closer. “But you don’t have to pretend with me.”

His breath wavered for a moment, his façade cracking. You lifted a hand to his face, your fingers grazing over his jaw before settling on his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a second, as if letting himself rest—just for a moment.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this…” he whispered, frustration laced in his voice.

You shook your head, your thumb brushing over his skin. “One race doesn’t define you, Gabriel. You belong here. And you’ll prove it—not just to them, but to yourself.”

He exhaled deeply, pressing his forehead against yours. “How do you always know what to say?”

You smiled softly. “Because I know you.”

A silence settled between you, but it wasn’t heavy it was comforting. Gabriel gave your hand one last squeeze before whispering, “I love you”

⤷Ollie Bearman

This was supposed to be his moment.

His first full season as an F1 driver something he had fought so hard for. After replacing a driver for two races last year, he had proved himself, shown the world that he belonged here. And now, with a seat of his own, he was determined to show them why he deserved it.

But then came the crashes.

FP1: A mistake. A miscalculation. He braked just slightly too late, his tires clipped the damp grass, and in an instant, the car slid out of his control. He hit the wall hard.

FP3: The same mistake. The same grass. The same outcome. Except this time, after hitting the first barrier, the car spun and slammed into the opposite wall.

Two crashes in one weekend.

By the time he made it back to the hospitality suite, the weight of it all came crashing down on him. He barely acknowledged the team’s reassurances, their forced smiles and murmured, “It happens, don’t worry.” He knew they were trying to ease the sting, but it didn’t matter.

When he saw you, the last bit of composure he had shattered.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped toward you, his breathing uneven, his body tense with frustration and disappointment. He didn’t say anything he didn’t need to. He just reached for you, wrapping his arms around you as if holding on for dear life.

You immediately embraced him, your hands running soothingly up and down his back. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking slightly as the adrenaline, the fear, the frustration all of it poured out of him.

“I messed up,” he choked out. “Twice. I—I don’t even know if I deserve to be here.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. His eyes were glassy, his lips trembling slightly as he tried to keep it together.

“Hey,” you murmured softly. “You do deserve to be here. One bad day doesn’t change that.”

His fingers gripped the fabric of your shirt as if afraid to let go. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint everyone.”

“You’re not a disappointment,” you assured him, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re human. And you’re learning. No one expects perfection.”

He let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly, though you could tell he wasn’t fully convinced yet. That was okay. You would remind him as many times as he needed.

For now, you just held him, letting him take the comfort he needed. Because tomorrow was a new day, and no matter what, you would always be right there with him.

⤷Kimi Antonelli

It was his first F1 race. His dream finally realized. The youngest driver on the grid praised for his talent, adored like a younger brother by the other drivers, carrying the weight of a thousand expectations on his shoulders.

But then, the rain came.

The track was treacherous, the visibility near impossible, and in the chaos, Kimi lost control. His car spun out violently before slamming into the barriers, ending his race in heartbreak.

As soon as you heard his voice over the radio shaky but confirming he was okay you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. But relief quickly turned into urgency as you searched for him across the paddock.

You moved through the crowd, your heart pounding, until your eyes landed on a small circle of drivers gathered tightly in one spot. Their race suits, soaked from the rain, formed a protective barrier around someone. And then you saw him light brown curls damp against his forehead, his head slightly lowered as the others murmured words of reassurance.

Max was the first to notice you. With a small nod in your direction, he spoke gently, “Your girlfriend is here.”

At those words, Kimi’s head snapped up. His eyes, still clouded with disappointment and frustration, softened the moment he saw you. A small, almost hesitant smile flickered across his face before he pushed past the drivers without a second thought, heading straight for you.

Before you could even ask if he was okay, his arms were already around you tight, desperate, as if grounding himself in your presence. You felt his body tremble slightly against yours, whether from the cold or the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, you weren’t sure.

You held him just as tightly, your hands gently running over his back in slow, soothing motions. “I’m here,” you whispered against his damp race suit, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, he just breathed.

The paddock was still noisy, the rain still falling, but in that embrace, the world seemed to slow.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing lightly over his cold skin. “You will,” you reassured him. “This is just the beginning, Kimi. One race doesn’t define you.”

He searched your eyes, as if trying to find the belief in them for himself. And then, with a deep breath, he nodded.

Max and the others stood back, watching quietly, knowing he was in good hands.

“Come on,” you whispered. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

And with his fingers still laced tightly with yours, you led him away because no matter how tough the race, he would never have to face it alone.

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joelsrose · 1 month ago

Text

chapter 4!!!! i love this story so much omggg - as always, i hope you guys enjoy xxx

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You were ecstatic—buzzing, practically vibrating with excitement as the sun crept over Jackson’s rooftops like it, too, was eager for what the day might bring.

Today was the day: Joel Miller’s first date in what was likely two decades, maybe more, and you had been the orchestrator of it all.

The entire thing had lived in your head for a week now, spinning like a little carousel of possibilities—some disastrous, some dreamy, some wildly romantic like something out of the battered books you kept stacked beside your bed.

You’d imagined a dozen outcomes: Joel arriving early with flowers (unlikely), Joel cracking a rare joke over dessert (a stretch), Joel sitting with his arms folded refusing to speak (realistic), and even one where he somehow fell instantly, hopelessly in love (a girl can dream).

But most of all, you hoped—really, truly hoped—that he’d try.

You had found someone you thought was perfect. Her name was Naomi—mid-forties, soft-spoken but sharp as a tack, with kind eyes and a laugh that could warm a cold room.

She worked with the school’s little garden co-op, loved to read mystery novels, and once told you that she’d be open to something “real” if it came along. And when you’d nervously shown her Joel’s name in your journal (complete with scribbled-out lines and notes in pink ink), she had blinked, smiled faintly, and said, “He’s handsome. I wouldn’t mind meeting him.”

That alone had made your heart flutter with cautious hope.

Their date was going to be at the dining hall—humble, yes, but at sunset it turned soft and sweet, the candles on the tables flickering like tiny promises. You’d even roped in one of the cooks that night to make something nice—nothing fancy, just warm bread, grilled fish, and the kind of roasted vegetables that made even the most stoic Jacksoners groan with delight.

You’d told Joel you’d meet him at the dining hall, just to make sure everything went smoothly—not that you thought he needed you, exactly, but because a tiny, worried part of you couldn’t bear the idea of him showing up alone and uncomfortable, his arms crossed and jaw tight, already halfway out the door before the poor woman even said hello.

And though he’d grumbled something predictably Joel—something along the lines of, “I don’t need no damn babysitter,” or maybe it was “Like hell you’re watchin’ me like some charity case”—you hadn’t really listened, because the miracle had already happened: he was going.

Joel Miller, who frowned at butterflies like they personally offended him, who didn’t eat dessert because he was apparently too proud for joy, who moved through town like he was allergic to small talk—was going on a date.

And not because Maria begged him, or because Tommy tricked him, but because you had asked.

Because somehow, after all the sighs and sharp looks and muttered curses, he had agreed to try.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You sat—not subtly, despite your best efforts—tucked into the far corner of the dining hall, half-hidden behind a tall, mismatched stack of crates and a poorly potted plant that offered minimal cover but enough plausible deniability.

From your perch, you watched with the anxiety of a director at opening night as Joel sat at the table, looking profoundly out of place, his posture slightly slumped like he was already apologizing for being there. His shirt was unironed, the sleeves unevenly rolled, and his hair looked like he’d run a hand through it once out of obligation and then given up entirely. You winced.

When his eyes flicked up and caught yours across the room, you straightened your back instinctively and mouthed, “Sit straight,” even modeling the posture with a meaningful lift of your shoulders. Joel blinked once, scowled like a grumpy schoolboy, and adjusted stiffly, muttering something under his breath as he did so.

And then Naomi walked in.

She looked lovely—effortlessly polished in a way that made you feel a flicker of hopeful pride. Her braid was neat, her dress floral and soft, and as she approached the table, you could see the faint smile of curiosity tug at her lips.

Joel stood up, which you had to admit was a win, but any warm feelings were quickly extinguished as he greeted her with an awkward, two-handed handshake—firm and businesslike, like he was closing a deal rather than stepping into a date.

Not a hug, not even a kiss on the cheek, just a dry, utilitarian shake that made Naomi tilt her head a little, puzzled. Then he sat—sat—without offering her chair, the screech of his wooden seat dragging across the floor echoing through the hall like a warning bell.

You physically cringed, your hand flying to your forehead as you whispered, “Oh, God,” under your breath, already bracing for the slow-motion disaster about to unfold before your very eyes.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You weren’t a body language expert by any means—didn’t need to be. Anyone with a pair of eyes and half a brain could tell this date was going up in flames before the second course even hit the table.

Joel sat stiff as stone, arms crossed so tightly across his chest you wondered if he was keeping himself from bolting. He didn’t smile, not once—not even the tight-lipped kind people give when they’re trying to be polite.

His jaw was set, his mouth a thin, immovable line, and the only real movement he made was stabbing his fork into his mashed potatoes like they’d wronged him personally.

You watched in slow-building horror as he grunted in response to Naomi’s questions, barely making eye contact, and at one point—at one godforsaken point—he actually leaned away from her mid-sentence to refill his water glass with all the grace of a brick wall.

You ran your hands through your hair, heart racing, like maybe the friction would rub the secondhand embarrassment off your skin. You wanted to crawl under the table. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. He was paying more attention to his peas than the gorgeous, interesting, totally game woman you’d found for him, and all you could do was stare, helpless, as your most promising Cupid endeavor to date unraveled like a badly-knitted scarf in the middle of winter.

You kept watching like it was a car crash happening in slow motion—horrifying, inevitable, and impossible to look away from.

Joel said something—you couldn’t hear it over the clatter of cutlery and murmur of nearby tables—but you saw Naomi’s brows shoot up, her head tilt just slightly, the way a woman does when she’s giving someone one last chance to backpedal. Joel, of course, did not backpedal. His mouth moved again, probably something gruff and dismissive in that grumpy cowboy drawl of his, and you actually saw Naomi scoff. Not laugh. Not smile. Scoff. Sharp, unimpressed, and loud enough that a few heads turned.

Then, just like that, she pushed back from the table with a scrape of chair legs that echoed louder than it had any right to, grabbed her coat, and left without another word. You were frozen, eyes wide, mouth half-open, watching as Joel just blinked at her retreating form like she’d spilled her drink and he wasn’t sure if he should clean it up or not.

As soon as the door swung shut behind Naomi, you didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. You launched out of your hiding spot like a woman on a mission, practically sprinting across the dining hall, weaving between chairs and startled diners until you slid into the now-vacant seat opposite Joel. You leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes wide and incredulous, like you’d just walked in on a crime scene.

“Joel,” you hissed, voice pitched low but vibrating with disbelief, “what the hell happened?”

He barely looked up from his half-eaten plate, casually poking at a piece of roasted potato like this wasn’t the dating equivalent of a four-alarm fire. “We didn’t click,” he said, with a shrug so nonchalant it nearly made your head explode.

“Joel,” you said again, dragging out the syllables like a prayer for patience, “why did she get up and leave like that? Like you insulted her lineage or ran over her kid!?”

He gave you a look, the picture of stone-faced indifference, and mumbled, “I don’t know. She was talkin’ about her cat.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And what did you say, Joel?”

He paused for a beat, glanced away, then muttered under his breath, “I said I don’t trust people who let animals sleep in their bed.”

You blinked at him. “Jesus, Joel.”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, like he hadn’t just taken a flamethrower to a perfectly decent date. “Didn’t like me the second she sat down.”

“Yeah, Joel,” you said, exasperated, “maybe because you said three words total, insulted her cat, and greeted her like she was an IRS agent coming to audit your crops. You shook her hand.”

He scowled deeper, already standing, already grabbing his coat like this whole night had been a bad dream he could storm away from. “That’s enough,” he muttered, brushing past you, out the door and into the cold.

“What the hell,” you hissed, pushing your chair in with a sharp scrape, bolting after him.

You caught up with him just outside, your breath fogging in the evening air as you jogged to close the space between you. “Joel! Stop.”

He did. He turned on a heel, the movement sharp, sudden, and his voice was rough when it came out. “What? Is that why you’re here? To tell me how shit I did? You think I don’t know I fucked it up? You don’t think I’m aware I ain’t some charming, fresh-faced guy women line up for? I know what I am. I know I’m well past my goddamn prime.”

You stared at him—this big, broad, stubborn man who looked like he was made of iron and regret, standing under the soft street light like it was trying to make something warm out of someone who didn’t believe he could be.

“Stop it,” you said, firm, breathless. “You want me to feel sorry for you? I won’t. Because you’re not past your prime, Joel. You’re still here. Still living. Still capable. You’re handsome, whether you believe it or not—Naomi said so herself before she even met you.”

He froze.

You could see it—that flicker of something in his eyes, just barely there, something startled and unsure. And it wasn’t your scolding that got to him, or the fact that you’d followed him out into the cold like you cared enough to keep trying.

It was that one word. Handsome.

Because you—who wore sweaters with daisies on them and drank out of a chipped Little Miss Sunshine mug and believed in soulmates and fresh starts and love at first sight—you had called him handsome. Had looked at him like there was still something good there. Something worthy.

He shifted, his shoulders tight, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat like he was trying to tuck his embarrassment away with them. His gaze didn’t quite meet yours, instead flicking sideways, focused on some invisible spot in the dirt. “Alright,” he muttered gruffly, voice thick with something he wasn’t ready to name. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve shaken her hand.”

You watched him, lips twitching with the threat of a smile you didn’t dare let fully bloom just yet. “You think?” you said, teasing but warm, your voice low like you didn’t want to scare off this rare, soft moment.

He sighed, and it felt like it came from somewhere deep—bone-deep, years-deep. “I should’ve talked more. Been less—” he gestured vaguely, almost helplessly, “—me. More gentlemanly or whatever. It’s been a while.”

You took a step closer, slow and steady, like you were approaching a wild animal that didn’t quite know how to accept kindness. Your fingers brushed his forearm first, then settled there, grounding, gentle. He didn’t flinch. Just looked down at your hand like it was the first warm thing he’d felt all day.

“And that’s okay, Joel,” you said softly, eyes on his, voice like honey and heartache. “No one’s asking you to be perfect. You don’t have to get it right the first time. Or the second. We just… have to try. A little more. Next time.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours then, a brow arching with something halfway between surprise and amusement. “Next time?”

“Oh yeah,” you said, your hand still on his arm, your eyes sparkling with something fierce and fond. “I’m not givin’ up on you yet, cowboy.”

That earned you a sound you hadn’t heard before—a real chuckle, low and rough, pulled from somewhere deep in his chest. It made something in you light up, bright and effervescent.

He shook his head, just slightly, like he couldn’t believe you, like he was still fighting the smile threatening his own mouth. “You’re somethin’ else,” he muttered, but this time, it sounded an awful lot like a compliment.

And you just grinned, the wind catching your hair, the cold forgotten entirely. Because for once, Joel Miller didn’t look like he wanted to disappear into the night.

He looked like he might actually be willing to stay.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

i wont be doing a tag list angels, im sorry it gets so confusing and messy for me !!! hope you understand xx

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.

You nod, letting him take your injured hand.

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius make their own sympathetic shushing sounds, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”

You blink at him. “Feel what?”

“Good.”

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”

“Not you?” James teases.

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”

“There?” you echo.

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

1K notes · View notes

seospicybin · 8 months ago

Text

PLAY PRETEND.

Lee Know x reader x Han. (s,a)

Synopsis: Minho, a seasoned actor, is joined by Han, an idol stepping into his first major role for a BL drama and their chemistry on screen makes everyone wondering what’s real and what’s an act, including Minho’s girlfriend, you. (20,7k words)

Author's note: A fair warning, it's a tad bit angsty but hope you enjoy it. ♡

Minho is no stranger to the thrill of the spotlight. As one of the industry's top actors, he’s amassed a fan base that follows his every move, each role bringing him closer to becoming a household name. His charm and undeniable talent have carried him from promising rookie to revered star, and few can match his level of skill and dedication.

This latest role, though, is something entirely new. When the announcement breaks that he’s accepted his first BL drama, the news explodes across social media, every fan site, and entertainment news outlet. Fans can barely contain their excitement.

Minho is known for transforming into his characters with an authenticity that leaves them breathless, and the thought of seeing him in a romance with another man—something he has never done onscreen—sends waves of excitement through them. Speculation about his co-star and their potential chemistry runs wild.

But beneath the flood of supportive messages and the whirlwind of media attention, Minho feels a prickling of doubt. He’s heard whispers that he’ll be paired with Han Jisung, an idol who only recently turned to acting. Minho can't deny he’s apprehensive about working alongside someone with so little experience. Acting requires a kind of discipline that not everyone can muster, especially when the stakes are this high.

Even as the buzz around the drama continues to grow, Minho keeps his distance from the hype. He needs to stay focused, to treat this role like any other. After all, he’s a professional, and he’s made it his career to bring out the best in every character he plays—even if that means navigating uncharted waters with a rookie idol by his side.

The table read is set in one of the sleek, polished meeting rooms of the production studio, its walls lined with posters from past hit dramas. Minho arrives right on time, slipping into his seat with the practiced nonchalance of someone who’s done this countless times before. Around him, the director and scriptwriters are setting up, their expressions shifting between excitement and concentration.

Just as Minho begins flipping through the script, he notices a quiet stir as Han enters the room. Dressed casually, with a hint of nervousness shadowing his usually confident expression, Han greets everyone politely, bowing deeply. His gaze shifts to Minho, and he visibly straightens, flashing a hopeful smile.

“Minho,” Han says, inclining his head with respect. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.” His tone is warm, genuine, a mix of nerves and eagerness showing in the way he speaks. It’s clear he’s someone who looks up to Minho, eager to make a good impression.

Minho, on the other hand, keeps his expression carefully blank. He offers Han a curt nod, glancing back down at the script with an air of disinterest. His own reservations about the rookie’s lack of experience hover in the back of his mind.

“Let’s just focus on the work,” Minho replies coolly, turning the page. “I’m sure you’ll pick things up as we go along.”

Han, however, doesn’t seem discouraged. His eyes brighten, and he shifts his chair a little closer, leaning forward eagerly as the director begins discussing the scene they’ll be reading. Despite Minho’s chilly demeanor, Han listens intently, occasionally glancing over at Minho, almost as if trying to absorb his every gesture and expression.

As the reading begins, Han gives it his all, his voice rising and falling with emotion, even if his delivery lacks the polish of a seasoned actor. Minho remains composed, effortlessly slipping into character with every line, his calm, professional presence commanding the room. But he can't help but notice the way Han watches him, soaking in each subtle movement, as though he’s studying a masterclass.

Despite himself, Minho is somewhat impressed by Han’s dedication, even if he doesn’t let it show. Han’s energy is raw and unrefined, yes, but there’s a spark there—something that could, perhaps, be shaped. Not that he’s planning to admit it.

When the read-through ends, Han gives him another eager look. “Thank you for today. I hope I can learn a lot from you.”

Minho offers only the briefest nod, keeping his tone neutral. “Just do your best,” he says, before gathering his things and slipping out the door, leaving Han watching after him, still hopeful and undeterred.

It’s past midnight when he finally slips out of his car and makes his way down the empty street toward your apartment. The city feels different at this hour, like it’s holding its breath. He lets himself in quietly, his heart lifting the moment he sees you, curled up on the couch, waiting for him as if you knew he’d come.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him with a sly smile on your face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks softly, shutting the door with a careful hand.

“I figured you might drop by,” you say, smiling as you pat the space beside you.

He sinks down, the stress of the day beginning to fade in your presence especially after his lips touched yours in a rewarding kiss. You lean against him as he snuggles into your arms, comfortable, familiar, as if the world outside doesn’t exist.

“So, how was the table read?” you ask, curiosity lighting up your face. “Was it as intense as you expected?”

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say it was… interesting,” he mutters. “They paired me with Han Jisung, you know, the idol who just started acting.”

There’s a slight edge in his voice, a hint of skepticism. “He’s eager, I’ll give him that, but he’s new to this, and it shows. I could see it right away. He’s trying hard, but…” he trails off, his tone resigned.

You rest a hand on him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hey, give him a chance. You might be surprised. Once filming starts, he could be different. He’s probably just nervous being around someone like you.”

Minho huffs softly, though his expression softens a bit. “Maybe. But you didn’t see how he was watching me, like he was waiting for every word I said. I’m used to people wanting to learn, but with him… I don’t know. He tries too hard.”

“Then try not to be so hard on him,” you suggest gently, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You might be the only one who can help him get through this. You know, just… take it easy. He might surprise you.”

Minho chuckles, his fingers brushing lightly along yours and sneaks a quick peck on your lips. “I’ll try. No promises, though.”

“Good,” you say, leaning your head against his as you continue landing comforting rubs on his back.

For all the lights and cameras that follow him, Minho’s real life unfolds in the shadows, far from the glare of fame. To the world, he’s a household name—a sought-after actor whose every move is documented, dissected, and adored.

But here, in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, he’s just Minho. Here, there’s no need for the polished charm, the unshakeable confidence, or the professional distance he maintains around others.

Here, he can simply exist, away from the world that claims to know him.

Dating someone outside the industry was never something he’d planned, but somehow, being with you—a person untouched by the demands of fame—grounds him in a way nothing else can. You work a steady, simple job, miles from the chaos of show business, and that’s part of what he loves most. Your world is calm, ordinary, real. He can shed the layers of expectation and just… breathe.

These quiet nights with you are his escape, a secret he guards as fiercely as his most cherished roles. And though it’s a thrill to keep your relationship hidden, it’s also a risk—a delicate balance he walks to preserve the one part of his life that fame hasn’t touched.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, you shift against him, glancing up with a playful smile. “Are you hungry? I could whip something up.”

Minho’s lips curve in amusement, already anticipating your offer. “Depends. Are you on the menu?”

You chuckle, getting up and heading to the kitchen, dismissing his flirty attempt. “How does a bowl of noodles sound? Only the best for a famous actor like you, of course.”

Minho follows you, leaning casually against the counter as he watches you work, eyes warm with that familiar, easy affection. You go about filling a pot with water, setting it to boil before adding in the noodles and seasonings. He knows you’re not exactly a gourmet chef, and he’s well aware that these noodles come straight from a packet, but it’s never been about the food.

When you finally slide the bowl over to him, you can’t help but tease, “You know, you’re probably the only person who actually enjoys my cooking, and all I did is adding the seasoning packet.”

Minho only shrugs, picking up his chopsticks. “Doesn’t matter. I like it because you made it and you put your love in it,” he says simply, looking at you with that soft, genuine smile that’s just for you.

You sit beside him, resting your chin on your hand as you watch him dig in, a small warmth blooming in your chest. Moments like this, just the two of you, sharing a late-night snack in the dim glow of your kitchen, feel like little pockets of normalcy—something rare and precious amidst the fast-paced world he belongs to.

“So, how was your day?” he asks between bites, looking over at you with genuine interest.

“Pretty quiet,” you say, mirroring his casual tone. “Went to work, came back, and then… waited for you,” you add with a small smile, one that he quickly returns. “But nothing too exciting, really.”

He nods, listening intently, and after a moment, he begins to share bits of his own day, too—the rehearsals, the meetings, the endless stream of people he has to charm and impress. But there’s something about these late-night conversations that lets him drop the facade and just be honest, to talk freely without any pressure or expectation.

“But nothing too exciting, really.” He adds at the end of his sentence, copying your tone as he says it.

He finishes the noodles, setting the bowl aside and leaning back, his hand reaching for yours. “Now, how about...” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, “We make things exciting?”

When Minho says exciting, he doesn't mean brushing teeth together by the sink in the bathroom. He gets ahead of you, washing his mouth with a scoop of water and puts his tootbrush into its place, having something he wants to do to you as you're busy brushing your teeth.

He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you before pulling you close until your back meets his chest. It stays like that for a moment until his hand wandering your chest and fondling your breast through your camisole.

“Now, this is exciting,” he murmurs as he sinks his mouth into your neck.

Through the reflection in the mirror, Minho sees you shoot him a glare as you keep brushing your teeth and it only makes him want to keep doing it, he uses both hands to slip under your camisole and continues fondling them, fingers circling on your blossoming buds.

You turn your head slightly to the side and this time, directly glare into his eyes. You let him have his way for now but as you need to eventually finish brushing your teeth, you yank his hands away from you so you can bend down to wash your mouth with water next.

But Minho takes advantage of this new position and lands a gentle slap on the back of your thigh, he then takes a step forward to close the gap, allowing him to rub his growing bulge against your ass.

You take a towel to dab your mouth and look over your shoulder at him, “You're so impatient, you know that?”

Minho shamelessly nods and pulls you close, making you feel his erection poking behind you, “Just trying to keep things exciting.”

There’s no way you can stop Minho from getting what he wants. He lays on top of you, elbows propped on each side of your body as his hands are busy fondling on your breasts. He gently squeezes on your soft mounds and then pushes them to the middle so he can take the two nipples into his greedy mouth.

“Be nice,” you warn him with your hand tangled in his dark locks as he has your nipple tugged between his teeth.

The way he responds with a menacing smirk only means that he'll likely do things that goes against your warning and you're right, he opens his mouth wide and takes as much flesh, he closes his mouth around it and sucks on it as hard as he can.

“Minho!” you hiss in pain and tug at his hair hard because that’s the only way to make him hear you.

He lets go with a loud pop, his lips are wet and so are the marks he made on your breasts. Even so, he begins making a trail of kisses down your front until his lips land on where you want him the most.

He looks at you as he starts lightly touching your clit with his fingers, and then he places the softest kiss on it. He replaces his fingers with his tongue next, pressing the tip of his hot tongue on it before moving in circular motions. His fingers teasing your entrance repeatedly, he pushes his two digits just enough to make you feel the stretch and make him feel how tight you are for him.

One long finger slipped into you, and grateful sighs and murmurs tumble from your lips. That is exactly what you need. He works a second finger in, and the stretching sensation has your head falling back. Oh yes, this is what you need. Your heels dug into the bed as you push into the penetration as his fingers easing in and out, curling against you to breathtaking effect.

When Minho abruptly removes his touch, you can’t bite back a protesting sound. “Minho, I need more, I—”

He lifts his glistening fingers to his lips and suck them into his mouth. The intensity of his eyes combined with his devilish grin has you fisting the sheets in you hands as your core tightens on itself.

Minho continues by placing caresses with deep, slow thrusts. It's good, so good, but he isn’t touching you where you want it, need it. Your hips writhed as you try to relieve the growing ache. When he withdraws again, you stroke your hands down your stomach in rampant frustration, but your own touch does nothing to excite you so you grip your knees, pull them apart to bare your sex to his eyes.

“I need more,” you mutter to him with a defeated sigh and a lustful glare. You spread your legs wider for him and seductively beg, “Please?”

The first push he makes is gentle and your body takes, and then takes some more until he's fully sheathed inside you. There’s no denying that every part of his body arouses you but but it’s his eyes, and the expression in them as he rolls his hips against you. His movement is slick and easy, there’s no hard impact, Minho moves against you with measured control.

You know he's not enjoying it when you're not making all kind of noises, Minho is frowning a little in concentration as he tries to angle his hips until he finds one that seems to nudge a little switch inside your body.

“Goodness!” You gasp in response as you grip the side of the pillow.

“There we go!” Minho mutters with a satisfied smirk as he hits it again and again, and the pleasure is so intense a sob catches in your throat.

You have no strength to raise your arms to his shoulders as every thrust that goes into you is taking you one step closer to something you’re fairly sure will kill you but despite of it, you want to savor every second of it. In fact, you want to live in this moment forever.

Minho is quick to notice what you're doing, you're trying to delay your orgasm. “Hey, quit holding off.”

“I'm not,” you breathlessly and innocently answer.

Your lie only causes him to increase his force, he slips his hands under your hips and angles you higher, he then adds more intensity to his thrusts and you have no idea how he's not tired.

“I don’t want it to end, please, Minho, please,” you whine as you're on the brink of free falling into a pool of unadulterated pleasure.

“Stubborn, aren't you?” He murmurs before pressing a hard kiss on your parted lips.

Instead of adding speed, Minho begins doing this smooth, deep rolling thrusts that slowly making you two losing it and on the second, you grip at him as your mouth snapped close. However, you can’t hold in your satisfied moans for long and even though they might be heard by the whole apartment building, you let them out.

Minho lowers you down and you keep your arms around his shoulders, not wanting to let him go so he ends up lying on top of you. He places kisses on your neck and jaw, he turns your head to the side to place a kiss on your lips next.

“Minho?” You softly call between your exhausted pants.

His hand lingers on your jaw, “Mmh?”

You softly smile as you look at him and say, "I still don't want it to end.”

The earliest light of dawn filters in through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your room. Minho stirs awake, his body tuned to early starts, but he finds himself reluctant to leave the warm comfort of your bed. He turns slightly, his gaze falling on you, still sound asleep beside him.

There’s something so peaceful in the way you’re nestled against the pillow, your breathing steady and even, and he doesn’t have the heart to wake you.

For a moment, he just watches, taking in every little detail—the way your hair falls across your face, the gentle rise and fall of your chest. It’s a side of you he rarely gets to see, and he wants to hold onto this quiet moment just a little longer.

Just as he’s about to slip out of bed, you stir, blinking sleepily as your eyes find him. “You’re awake already?” you mumble, your voice soft and drowsy.

He offers a gentle smile, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Yeah, I have to head out early today. Busy day ahead.”

You sigh, a little pout tugging at your lips as you nod. “Alright. Go home safely, okay?”

Minho leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead and then your lips. “I will,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet promise. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand still resting against your cheek. “Now go back to sleep, mmh? I’ll see you soon.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink back into the warmth of the bed, feeling the gentle weight of his words wrap around you like a blanket. With one last soft smile and a long peck on your lips, he pulls away, leaving the room with quiet steps, careful not to disturb the peaceful quiet of the early morning.

As Minho steps out into the early morning chill, he pulls his jacket tighter around himself, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the street. The sky is painted in soft hues of blue and pink, a quiet beauty that feels worlds away from the life he’s about to return to—the endless rehearsals, the flashing cameras, and the carefully managed image he has to keep up for everyone else.

He pauses for a moment, looking back at your apartment building, a sense of longing settling in his chest. Leaving you always feels harder than he expects. These brief, stolen hours together are like little fragments of a life he can’t fully claim—moments he can only touch in secret, moments he treasures more than he can ever say. With you, he doesn’t have to be Minho, the actor. He can just… be.

But out here, as the city begins to wake, he feels the weight of that distance between his two worlds, the one where he’s a public figure and the private one he shares with you. And as much as he longs to stay in this quiet, hidden world a little longer, he knows he has to step back into the other, slipping on the mask he wears for everyone else.

With a steadying breath, Minho turns and walks down the empty street, blending into the first stirrings of the city. But even as he goes, a part of him lingers behind, held by the warmth of the life you share, waiting for the next time he can return to you.

The lights are hot and bright as the cameras start rolling, casting the whole set in a surreal glow. Han can feel his pulse quickening as he glances over at Minho, who stands effortlessly in front of the camera, already slipping into his role with a natural ease.

It’s their first day of filming, and Minho’s presence on set is undeniable—commanding and calm, as though he belongs here. Han’s seen him in countless dramas, admired his work from afar, but seeing him in action up close is something else entirely.

Han straightens, pushing down the nervous energy bubbling inside him. He wants to do his best, not just for the role, but because he respects Minho’s work.

As they begin their scene together, he mirrors Minho’s every movement, every expression, trying to match his intensity. The world around them fades, and for a moment, Han feels like they’re the only two people in the room. Acting alongside him is exhilarating, like catching a glimpse of something real—something that flickers into life only when they’re on camera.

But as soon as the director calls “Cut!” and the cameras stop rolling, it’s like a switch flips in Minho. His face hardens, his expression going from warm to distant in a heartbeat. Han watches as Minho steps back, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze averted and indifferent.

The shift stings more than he’d like to admit. He’s tried not to let it bother him—after all, Minho is a seasoned actor, and Han knows he’s still new to all this. He tries to remind himself that it’s just how things are, that Minho has his own process. But a part of him can’t help but feel like he’s being shut out, that maybe Minho doesn’t think he’s good enough to be here.

Still, he brushes off the discomfort, plastering a grin on his face as he walks up to Minho between takes. “Hey,” he says brightly, a playful note in his voice. “That last line—you totally nailed it. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

Minho gives him a polite nod, his expression neutral, barely meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

Undeterred, Han leans in, grinning wider. “You know, I really want to learn from you. I’ve never done this before, so if you have any tips or, I don’t know, actor secrets… I’d love to know them.”

Minho’s gaze flickers toward him, unreadable. “Just do what comes naturally,” he says coolly, his voice even, before glancing back at the script in his hand.

Han can feel the subtle rejection, but he’s not one to back down so easily. Despite the distance Minho keeps, Han finds himself wanting even more to prove himself—not only to show he belongs here, but because something about Minho’s presence challenges him to be better. He might not understand Minho yet, and he might never break past that calm exterior, but he knows he can learn from him. And no matter how many times Minho brushes him off, he won’t stop trying.

As they step back into place, the cameras ready to roll again, Han shakes off the lingering doubt, focusing instead on the spark of excitement he feels at working with someone he admires. He’ll keep pushing, keep learning, even if it means playing his own game just to get Minho to notice.

After all, this is only the beginning.

Minho leans back against his bed, phone pressed to his ear as he hears your familiar voice on the other end. Just the sound of you, even over the phone, has a way of easing the tension that clings to him after a long day on set.

“So,” you say, your tone warm and curious, “how was the first day of filming?”

Minho sighs, letting himself relax for a moment. “It went… pretty well, I guess. It’s strange, doing something like this,” he admits, feeling the honesty flow more easily over the phone. “But everyone was professional, and the scenes turned out alright. Han, too, was… surprisingly good.”

“Oh?” Your interest piques, and he can hear the little smile in your voice. “I thought you weren’t sure about working with him.”

“I wasn’t,” Minho replies with a slight chuckle. “But he’s… not bad. Maybe it’s just beginner’s luck, but he’s got this energy that fits well on camera. Still, I don’t know.”

He pauses, considering his words. “He seems eager, almost like he wants to prove himself. But sometimes I feel like he’s trying too hard to impress me.”

“Well, maybe he is,” you say lightly. “He probably respects you, wants to do a good job, and maybe he’s just a little nervous.”

He huffs out a laugh, not answering directly. The truth is, he knows you’re probably right, but there’s something about Han’s determination that catches him off-guard. Maybe he��s just reluctant to admit how much potential he actually sees in him.

You’re quiet for a moment, then your voice softens. “Just try not to be too tough on him, Minho. He could learn a lot from you, and you might actually enjoy it.”

He hesitates, then lets the subject drift. “Anyway,” he murmurs, shifting the conversation, “what about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty routine,” you say, a little laugh coloring your words. “Nothing as exciting as your day, obviously. Work, home, the usual. But it was good.” There’s a beat of silence, a comfortable pause, before you add, “I wish you were here, though.”

The words hit him more deeply than he expected, and a quiet ache settles in his chest. “Me too,” he says, his voice softening. “I miss you. It’s strange being away, not getting to see you.”

“Think you’ll get to come by this week?” you ask, hope in your voice.

He sighs, his mind going to tomorrow’s early call time. “I’d love to, but I’ve got to be on set early. It’ll probably be like this for a while.”

A small pause, and he can imagine you nodding, understanding even without him saying it. “That’s okay. Just call me when you can. I’ll be here.”

“I know.” A faint smile tugs at his lips as he shifts on the bed, pressing the phone closer as though he could close the distance between you. “Soon, alright?”

“Alright,” you say, and there’s warmth and understanding in your voice that makes him wish he could be there to hold you.

He stays on the line a little longer, savoring the sound of your breathing, the easy silence between you that says more than words could. Finally, reluctantly, he whispers a soft goodbye, letting the call end.

“Goodnight,” he softly murmurs into the phone while imagining himself placing a soft kiss on your lips as he says it.

“Goodnight,” you say back and Minho imagines you're lying close next to him as you say it.

As he sets the phone down, he feels the empty space around him a little more sharply, a quiet reminder of the life he keeps separate from the world he’s about to step back into tomorrow.

The set hums with quiet activity as staff members move props around, adjusting lighting and prepping for the next scene. Minho lounges in his chair, script in hand, as he studies his lines for the upcoming scene—a heavy, emotional exchange that requires all of his focus. He’s done this countless times before, but it never gets easier. Emotion, raw and real, always takes something from him, and he’s already gathering his energy to make the scene hit just right.

Just then, the faint shuffle of footsteps pulls his attention. He glances up to see Han approaching, clutching a steaming cup of coffee with both hands. Han looks a bit awkward, his gaze shifting between the cup and Minho, as though he’s unsure whether he should go through with whatever he came over to say. Minho raises an eyebrow, curiosity tempered by his usual calm, as Han finally steps forward, extending the coffee to him.

“Here,” Han says, offering the cup with a nervous smile. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

Minho accepts the cup with a polite nod, trying to read Han’s expression. There’s something hesitant there, like Han’s searching for the right words, but they’re just out of reach.

“Do you need something?” Minho finally asks, his tone more detached than he intends.

Han shifts his weight, looking down at his hands, clearly gathering his courage. “Actually… yeah, sort of,” he admits, his voice a little lower. “I, uh, wanted to ask if—if you could give me a few pointers. For the next scene.”

Minho’s first instinct is to brush it off. He’s not here to be Han’s mentor; he has enough to focus on himself. But just as he’s about to deflect, your words come back to him: Try not to be so tough on him. He feels a quiet sigh building but swallows it back, deciding to give Han a chance.

“Alright,” he says, keeping his tone measured. “What part are you struggling with?”

Han’s eyes brighten, his expression earnest. “I just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s an emotional scene, and I know I should be able to make it feel real, but I feel like something’s missing. It’s like I can’t quite reach the right emotion.”

Minho studies him, caught a bit off-guard by how genuine Han’s concern seems to be. There’s no sign of the overly eager performer he’d expected, no arrogance. Just someone who truly wants to do well, who wants the scene to mean something.

“Alright,” Minho says after a moment, settling back into his chair. “If you’re struggling to reach the right feeling, think about what the scene means to you. Imagine if it was a real experience you went through—how would it make you feel? How would you react if it were happening to you?”

Han nods, looking down thoughtfully as he takes in Minho’s words. “That makes sense,” he says, his voice quieter, almost to himself. “I guess I’ve been trying too hard to think of it as a performance, instead of… just letting it be real.”

Minho finds himself nodding, feeling a faint respect growing. “The camera picks up on everything,” he says. “If you’re holding back, it’ll show. Don’t worry about looking a certain way; just feel the moment, and the rest will fall into place.”

Han looks at him, something almost like awe in his expression, and for the first time, Minho sees past the nervousness and the enthusiasm. He sees Han’s passion, the quiet intensity that fuels him, and he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Han’s not doing this for appearances. He’s doing it because he genuinely loves the craft.

As they’re called back to set, Minho watches Han head toward his mark, feeling a flicker of something new—a recognition, a sense that maybe Han isn’t as unpolished as he’d assumed. He has potential, real potential, and Minho feels a quiet challenge stir within him. He hadn’t expected this, but maybe working with Han might be more interesting than he thought.

Minho frowns as he glances at his phone, refreshing his messages again. Between every take, he checks, hoping to see a notification from you. Since last night, he hasn’t been able to reach you, and as much as he tries to focus on work, an uneasy worry nags at him. And, if he’s honest with himself, there’s a touch of frustration, too.

Finally, his phone lights up with a message from you: “Hey, sorry I couldn’t reply sooner! I’m okay, just got a little busy. Call me when you can.”

Minho doesn’t waste a second. He hurries to his car, slipping into the driver’s seat to get some privacy, and immediately dials your number. You pick up on the second ring, but before you can even say hello, he’s already starting in.

“Where have you been?” he says, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

There’s a pause on your end, then you reply, sounding a little sheepish. “Sorry, Minho… I went out with some friends last night, and I was exhausted, so I went straight to sleep when I got home. I didn’t think you’d be so worried.”

He exhales, some of the tension easing now that he’s finally hearing your voice. “You could’ve at least sent me a quick text. I don’t like waiting around, wondering if something happened.”

“I know, I’m really sorry.” You sound genuinely apologetic, but there’s a lightness in your tone as you add, “I assure you I’m totally fine.”

But even though he’s reassured, he can’t help the faint jealousy simmering beneath the surface. He hates that he can’t be with you for a normal night out, can’t enjoy the easy, carefree moments you have with others. Instead, he’s here, locked in this demanding schedule that keeps him away from you.

“What are you up to now?” you ask, breaking his thoughts.

Minho smirks, deciding to take advantage of the moment to get back at you, just a little. “Well, we’re on a break right now,” he says, his tone casual. “But I’ve got an interesting scene coming up later—a kiss scene, actually.”

There’s a pause, then you laugh softly, catching on to his little game. “Oh, I already looked him up,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice. “And yeah, I can see why the fans think he's cute.”

For a second, Minho feels his own jealousy prickling again, but he plays along, leaning into the teasing. “You sound jealous,” he says, savoring the reversal.

You laugh, feigning an exaggerated sigh. “Well, maybe I am. It’s not every day you get to kiss someone as adorable as him. I hope you’re making the most of it.”

“I guess you’ll just have to imagine it,” he replies smoothly, though the truth is, he can already picture your playful glare. The thought makes him smile, and the frustration that had built up fades just a little.

At that moment, one of the crew members calls out to him, gesturing that it’s time to return to set. Minho sighs, reluctantly pulling himself back to reality. “I’ve got to go. They’re calling me back.”

“Good luck with the kiss scene,” you tease, your voice light and warm.

“Thanks,” he says, a hint of a smile still lingering. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t enjoy the kiss too much, Minho.” You add with a sly smile that he can hear through the phone.

He chuckles, hanging up with a smile that lingers even as he steps out of the car. As he walks back to the set, he can still feel the warmth of your voice echoing in his mind, carrying him through the challenges of the day and making him feel, just for a moment, like he’s not as far from you as he really is.

Han’s heart races as he glances over the script again. Today’s scene isn’t just any scene—it’s a kissing scene. He knew it was coming, but somehow, seeing it in writing and knowing the cameras will be rolling any minute makes it feel ten times more intimidating.

Not only is this his first time acting in a drama, but it’ll also be his first time kissing someone with an entire crew watching. His hands feel clammy, and he can’t quite calm the flutter of nerves in his stomach.

He paces a bit, hoping the movement will help him shake off the jitters, but it only makes him feel more visible, more self-conscious. The pressure mounts, and he’s starting to doubt if he can pull this off without looking completely out of place.

Just then, he hears a familiar voice, steady and calm. “Hey, you alright?”

Turning, Han finds Minho watching him, his expression unreadable but maybe… a little curious. Han realizes he must look as nervous as he feels. He laughs, trying to brush it off, but his voice sounds too high-pitched, even to his own ears. “Oh, yeah. Just… you know. First kissing scene and all.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. “First one ever?”

Han nods, scratching the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “Yeah. It’s just… not exactly something you get to practice with an audience.”

Minho considers him for a moment, then nods thoughtfully. “Alright. Do you want some tips?”

Han’s eyes widen, and he nods eagerly, grateful for the offer. “Yeah, definitely. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

“Alright,” Minho says, stepping close enough for Han to catch a faint hint of his vanilla tinted perfume, a subtle warmth that somehow makes the moment feel more intimate than he anticipated. “When you’re filming a kiss scene, it’s not just about the kiss itself. It’s about building the moment.”

Han nods, listening intently as Minho explains, his voice calm and steady. “First, you have to make eye contact—hold it, let the camera pick up on it. It’s about anticipation.”

Minho’s gaze holds his, unblinking, his eyes drawing Han in. Han swallows, trying not to look away, but there’s something intense in Minho’s stare that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Then, just before you lean in, close your eyes slowly.” Minho demonstrates, his eyelids lowering in a way that looks so natural, so effortless, that Han feels his breath catch. “You want it to look like you’re losing yourself in the moment, even if it’s just for the camera.”

Han tries to mimic it, closing his eyes as he’s been shown, and he hears a quiet chuckle from Minho. When he opens his eyes, Minho is watching him with a slight smile.

“Not bad. Just a little slower next time.” Minho’s tone is relaxed, and Han feels himself start to loosen up, reassured by his guidance.

Then, Minho moves closer, reaching up to show Han where to place his hands. His fingers lightly grip Han’s shoulders, then slide down, positioning Han’s hands at a comfortable height. Han’s pulse races as he tries to focus on Minho’s instructions rather than the way Minho’s hands linger on his arms, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“For the camera, small details make a big difference,” Minho says, his voice soft. “When you put your hand here” —he places Han’s hand gently on his shoulder— “it should look natural, like you’re pulling the other person in. You don’t have to actually pull; just let it look like you could.”

Han nods, and they go through the motion slowly, Minho guiding him with subtle adjustments. When he’s finally in position, Minho lets out an approving hum.

“Good. Now, when you’re ready to lean in, you want to pause for a second, let the anticipation build. And when you’re close…” Minho’s voice trails off, and his gaze flickers to Han’s lips, just for a heartbeat, before he looks back into Han’s eyes. “That’s when you close the distance.”

Han’s heart is racing by now, every word and movement searing itself into his memory. They practice the approach a couple more times, each time stopping just before their faces are close enough to kiss. Each time, Han tries to stay calm, to focus on the details of what Minho is teaching him, but his heartbeat keeps betraying him. He’s intensely aware of every movement, every breath, every inch between them.

“Alright, now put it all together,” Minho says, stepping back a bit, though his eyes stay on Han with an encouraging nod. “Eye contact, pause, and then move in slowly.”

Han tries, replaying Minho’s instructions in his mind. His gaze meets Minho’s, and he holds it just a little longer, letting himself linger in the moment as Minho had shown him. Slowly, he leans in, placing his hand on Minho’s shoulder and letting his eyes close just before he’s close enough to kiss.

When he pulls back, Minho gives a small nod, a faint smile of approval on his face. “See? You’ve got it.”

Han exhales, finally allowing himself to relax, though he still feels a strange flutter in his chest. “Thanks, Minho. I... really appreciate it.”

“Just remember what we went over,” Minho says, stepping back as he glances over at the crew setting up for the scene. “When we film, just focus on the details, and it’ll come across naturally.”

As Minho turns to join the others, Han is left standing there, still feeling the lingering warmth of Minho’s touch, his mind replaying every movement, every glance they shared. He tells himself it’s just respect for Minho’s talent, admiration for his guidance. Yet deep down, he’s not entirely sure if that’s all it is.

Minho settles into place, a breath away from Han’s lips, his heart steady as he prepares to make the kiss scene look effortless. He’s honed his craft over the years, and this should be no different—just another kiss for the camera, a routine step in building their characters’ chemistry.

But as he leans in, he can’t help but recall your teasing words, the way you’d feigned jealousy about him getting to kiss Han. The memory slips through his mind at exactly the wrong moment, and his composure shatters. He lets out a small laugh, quickly turning his head to cover it up. The crew and director glance his way, and Minho raises a hand in apology.

“Sorry, that was on me,” he says, trying to stifle the smile tugging at his lips.

Han watches him, visibly confused, but thankfully, the director doesn’t dwell on the moment. Instead, he calls for another take, and everyone gets ready to go again. As they reset, Minho notices Han still looking at him, a faint crease of curiosity in his brow.

“What was that?” Han whispers, leaning closer. “You don’t usually break character.”

Minho just shrugs, an amused smile lingering on his face. “Nothing. Just…something came to mind.” He doesn’t elaborate, and Han seems to sense there’s more to it but lets it go as they prepare for another take.

As the camera rolls, Minho resets his focus, this time with a playful plan forming in the back of his mind. A way to tease you a little, to get back at you for that playful jealousy you’d shown. He moves in, letting his eyes drift down to Han’s lips just before he closes the distance, leaning in a little closer than he has to, lingering just long enough for the gesture to feel personal. His hand finds its place on Han’s shoulder, and he holds it there with a slight squeeze, making the moment feel as real as possible.

He senses Han stiffen slightly, taken aback by the closeness, but Han doesn’t falter. They hold the moment just long enough for the director to call “cut,” signaling the end of the scene. Minho pulls back, noting the faint blush coloring Han’s cheeks, and gives a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry if that was... more intense than you expected,” Minho says quietly, keeping his tone light. “Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”

Han clears his throat, the blush still there as he offers a quick shake of his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I mean...the director was okay with it, so…” He trails off, looking away for a moment before adding, “You did what felt natural.”

Minho gives a nod, inwardly satisfied as he thinks about how you’d react if you’d seen that take. It’s a harmless bit of fun on his end, but he knows he’ll enjoy teasing you about it later, letting you imagine just how “convincing” he made the scene. And as they move on to the next part of the filming schedule, he can’t resist a quick, sly grin, already thinking about what he’ll tell you the next time he calls.

Han’s fingers twitch as he waits behind the stage, heart pounding in his chest. The noise of the crowd is muffled by the curtain, but he can still feel the energy thrumming through the air, making his nerves spike. This is his first press conference, his first time promoting a drama as one of the leads, and the weight of it all presses down on him. He’s used to being in front of a crowd, but somehow, this feels different—more personal, more vulnerable.

He closes his eyes for a second, trying to calm his breathing, but the anticipation only makes his anxiety grow.

“Hey.”

Han’s eyes snap open, and he finds Minho standing beside him, studying him with a slight, knowing smile. There’s a calmness in Minho’s gaze that immediately makes Han feel a little more grounded.

“You good?” Minho asks, his tone gentle, but with a trace of amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, just… you know, a bit nervous,” Han admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Minho chuckles softly. “That’s natural. First press conference for your first drama—it’s a big deal. But hey, you’ll be fine.”

Han nods, trying to absorb the reassurance, but Minho seems to notice the lingering tension in his posture.

“Look, when you go out there, just remember this: you’ve worked hard for this, and you belong here,” Minho says, his voice low and steady. “All you have to do is be yourself. And if things feel overwhelming, just look my way. We’re in this together.”

The words settle over Han like a warm blanket, easing his nerves bit by bit. He takes a deep breath, finding comfort in the simple yet genuine support Minho offers.

“Thanks,” Han says softly, feeling a grateful smile tug at his lips.

Minho gives him a nod, a small smile of encouragement lingering on his face. “Let’s go out there and show them what we’ve got, yeah?”

With Minho’s steadying presence by his side, Han steps onto the stage, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. As the questions begin, he finds himself feeling more relaxed, anchoring himself with the occasional glance at Minho, just as he’d promised. And when the interviewer eventually turns to Minho with a question about him, Han listens, his nerves now replaced with a curious anticipation.

“Minho, as a seasoned actor, what’s it been like working with Han Jisung, given that this is his first major acting role?”

Han braces himself, expecting something polite but brief. But Minho’s expression softens as he pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect at first,” Minho begins, his voice steady and sincere. “But Han Jisung… he’s surprised me. His passion for acting and his willingness to throw himself into the role has been inspiring, even to me. He doesn’t hold back, and he’s constantly open to learning and improving. For a newcomer, he brings a depth and commitment that not everyone has, and I think audiences will be able to see that right away.”

Han’s cheeks flush as Minho continues, his words unexpectedly heartfelt. Minho looks over at him, offering a small, encouraging smile.

“Han's energy on set has honestly made this experience refreshing,” he adds. “He’s kept things fun and alive, which has been a huge part of why our scenes have felt so natural.”

Han’s heart swells, his initial nerves completely forgotten as he absorbs Minho’s words. This is more than he ever expected, more than he thought he deserved. Hearing Minho acknowledge his efforts, and in such a public way, strikes a chord he hadn’t anticipated. He tries to focus on the rest of the press conference, but Minho’s words echo in his mind, leaving him feeling both honored and somehow vulnerable.

When the event finally wraps up, Han lingers, watching Minho as he chats with the staff. He knows now, without a doubt, that his admiration has grown into something more. And he wonders how much longer he’ll be able to keep it hidden.

Han has lost count of the days since filming began, but one thing has become impossible to ignore: the way his admiration for Minho has shifted, morphing into something deeper than respect. It’s a constant pull at his thoughts, this warmth in his chest that surfaces every time Minho offers him guidance, shares a laugh, or even gives a simple nod of approval after a scene. At first, Han tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just awe for Minho’s talent and dedication. But now he knows better. He likes Minho—more than he should, more than he ever intended.

But he keeps it to himself, swallowing back his feelings each time they surface. He doesn’t want to risk their work, their growing camaraderie, over a confession he’s not even sure Minho would welcome. So, he lets it simmer beneath the surface, content with the moments they share on set.

Today, though, his heart is beating a little faster than usual. Tonight, the first episode of their drama will air. The whole cast and crew are buzzing with excitement, anticipation hanging in the air as they wrap up filming for the day. Han watches as everyone exchanges plans for the evening, talking about where they’ll be watching the show, who they’ll be watching it with. He hears a few of the cast members mention a get-together to watch it as a group, and a thought strikes him, simple yet daring.

When the opportunity arises, Han gathers his courage and approaches Minho. “Hey,” he begins, keeping his tone casual. “Some of us are planning to watch the first episode together tonight. I was wondering… if you wanted to join?”

For a moment, Han feels a flicker of hope as Minho looks at him, appearing to consider the offer. But then Minho’s expression softens, and he gives a polite smile, one that Han can already sense holds an apology.

“I appreciate the invite,” Minho says gently, “but I’m going to have to pass. I’ve already got plans.”

Han tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. He nods, forcing a small smile of understanding. “Ah, that’s cool. No problem at all.”

Minho’s eyes hold a kindness that almost makes the refusal sting less, but only almost. “Enjoy it, though,” Minho adds, his voice genuine. “And don’t stress too much. I know you did great.”

Han swallows back the lingering disappointment and musters a grin, forcing a lighthearted laugh. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll try not to cringe too hard.”

Minho laughs softly and gives him a supportive pat on the shoulder before heading off, leaving Han watching his retreating figure. The ache of disappointment settles in his chest as he tries to shake it off. He tells himself it was just a small ask, nothing major, and that Minho’s absence doesn’t mean anything. But he can’t help but feel a lingering sadness, wishing—just for a moment—that he could be close enough to Minho for things to be different.

You make your way through the back entrance of Minho’s apartment building, slipping in with a comfortable familiarity that comes from many late-night visits. Inside the elevator, you scan the keycard he gave you, a small but meaningful token of trust. As the doors close and you begin your ascent, anticipation builds. It’s been a few days since you last saw him, and tonight feels special, knowing you’ll finally get to see the drama he’s been working so hard on.

The elevator brings you directly to his floor, and with a quiet thrill, you step into his apartment. The place is dimly lit, warm and quiet. It’s clear Minho isn’t home yet, just as you’d expected. Setting the bags of food on the counter, you begin unpacking, arranging the dishes you brought on his plates. As you’re finishing up, placing the food neatly on the dining table, you hear the faint sound of the door opening.

A smile spreads across your face, and you walk quickly toward the foyer, meeting him just as he steps in.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, his face lighting up the moment he sees you. Before he can say more, you’re in his arms, hugging him tightly. He holds you close, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead, and then another, softer one on your lips. For a moment, the rest of the world disappears, leaving just the two of you in the quiet of his apartment.

You smile at him when he pulls away and take his hand, “Hope you're hungry cause I brought some food.”

“Famished, actually,” he says as he follows you to the kitchen.

Settling into the cozy embrace of the sofa after dinner, you snuggle up next to Minho, draping a blanket over your laps as the drama’s opening credits begin to roll. Minho’s arm rests around you, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder, though his eyes are fixed on the screen, already fully immersed.

As he appears in the first scene, you can’t help but smirk a little. He’s clearly playing up the brooding lead, leaning into every intense look and dramatic pause.

“Wow, look at you, Mr. Intense,” you tease, nudging him gently. “Are you sure you’re not laying it on a bit thick?”

Minho sighs in mock exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s called method acting. Ever heard of it?”

“Oh, definitely,” you say, trying to hold back your laughter. “You’re giving ‘mysterious and misunderstood’ a whole new level. That little eyebrow furrow—does that come naturally, or did you have to practice in the mirror?”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “I swear, you’re the worst critic I’ve ever met. You know I actually have to think about these things, right?”

As the episode progresses, you continue your playful commentary. When he delivers a particularly intense line, voice low and dramatic, you can’t resist muttering, “Ooh, that voice drop… it’s like you’re trying to win an award for ‘Most Serious Actor Ever.’”

Minho groans, but there’s a soft glint in his eye that shows he’s not entirely displeased. “What do you know? This is serious acting.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “Of course it is. I’m sure your fans are swooning over every word.”

But as the scene shifts to one where his character opens up about a vulnerable moment, your smile softens. You watch as he delivers his lines with surprising tenderness, the usual edge in his voice melting into something raw and real. For a moment, you’re caught off guard, watching as he brings a sense of depth to his role that you hadn’t fully expected.

Noticing your silence, he glances over at you, eyebrow raised. “See?” he says, a little smugly. “Still think I’m overdoing it?”

You roll your eyes but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You’re actually pretty convincing.”

A triumphant grin spreads across his face. “Knew you’d come around.”

And then, Han��s character appears on the screen. You watch him closely, intrigued by the dynamic he’s creating with Minho. He’s got an earnest quality that’s surprisingly convincing, even charming.

“You know, he’s actually pretty good,” you comment, glancing at Minho. “Not as bad as you said he’d be.”

Minho sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Okay, maybe I was a bit harsh,” he admits, sounding a little reluctant. “I wasn’t thrilled about his casting at first. I didn’t think he’d be able to keep up. But I have to admit, he’s… he’s got something.”

You nod, watching his face as he speaks. There’s a thoughtful look in his eyes as he stares at the screen, and you sense that his respect for Han has grown, even if he’s too stubborn to say it outright.

“It’s nice that you two get along now,” you say softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

As the first episode wraps up, the screen fades to black, and you let out a satisfied sigh, glancing over at Minho. He’s watching your reaction carefully, clearly curious about your final thoughts.

“Well,” you say, drawing out the moment just to tease him, “I have to admit… you and Han actually have pretty great chemistry on screen.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a dramatic sigh. “Almost enough to make me a little jealous.”

Minho chuckles, shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, leaning in until his face is inches from yours. “It’s all just acting, remember?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, jokingly doubting his assurance with an eye roll.

“You know who has the best chemistry?” he asks with mock seriousness, he pats his lap, gesturing you to sit on it.

Without hesitating, you obey his words and does what he asked, sitting on his lap with your back against his chest and he begins rubbing the side of your thigh.

“Who?” You ask as you rest your head onto his shoulder.

"You and me," He answers without a beat then pulls you into a kiss, his playful tone fading into something softer, more genuine.

As you relax into his embrace, you feel the ease and warmth that only he can bring, and for now, any lingering worries fade away as he captures your mouth in a kiss again, and it’s so gentle you could cry.

“Dress off. Come on now.” Minho’s voice is rough and cajoling.

You don't know what it is about him that always makes you always submit to his wishes even though nothing would happen if you didn't. Yet, you always do it. You tug the hem of your dress and slightly get up from his lap just so you can take it off over your head.

Minho immediately pulls you close and puts his veined arms around you, you don't want it less than that. His hand grabs your chin to turn your head his way and presses a kiss, his tongue touches yours.

“All I’ve been thinking about all day is all the ways we’ll fit together,” his lips graze yours as he speaks as he sinks his mouth on you again, hard.

You never know with Minho because next, he's giving your throat the softest bites imaginable. He then slides his fingers into yours and rests them together on your chest. Here, this moment is sweet, soft and gentle, and... Minho.

The two of you begin kissing again, and the friction of your ass against his crotch is spurring him into a slightly heavier rhythm. His mouth is wet, soft, delicious. The moment he stops, even to take a proper breath, you tug him back.

After an eternity, he tangles his hand in the strap on your shoulder. He runs it lasciviously through his fingers pulling it taut, releasing it with the faintest snap, and then does it again.

“I like this color on you,” he murmurs as he cups your breasts through your bra.

He crashes his lips on your open mouth, hot and intense, it goes on until he successfully takes off your bra. The second he breaks the kiss, you're gasping for air.

He continues to fondle your breasts, the friction between you and him blooming outward. He scoops your hair away and presses his mouth on the side of your neck. He slides under and weighs your bare breasts in his hands. Slowly, gently, his fingers pinch that earned him a gasp from you.

There's nothing you like more than seeing his hands on you but what's more arousing is how you're the only one naked. He slides one hand down your front and the scrape of his nails makes your skin break into goose bumps.

It doesn't take long until his hand slips between your legs, feeling your sex through the flimsy fabric, tracing that bundle of nerves that engorged the more he touches it.

The next thing you know, the underwear is off and lying on the side of the sofa. He lands his hand right where you need him and he licks at the sheen of sweat beginning to mist your neck, making you drop your head to the back.

His skillful fingers know how to please you and just the sight of his hand touching you between your thighs is enough to make you feel hot all over. When he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, you hear a faraway sound that you realize is you, whimpering, begging noises. He takes no notice and shows no pity. He presses his perfect mouth on whatever section of skin he pleases.

“Minho, please,” you breathlessly plead with your hand flies to his forearm, it's unclear whether you're trying to stop him or gesture him to keep going.

“What is it, honey?” He casually asks with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Want you inside me,” you rasp with a brief, sweet kiss on his lips.

He endearingly brushes your head and kisses your lips, “You can have it, honey.”

Minho watches as you work open his jeans and pull the zipper down, and the second his erection sprang free, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking it. You don’t want to waste any more time waiting so you position yourself and slowly easing yourself down.

“Oh...” you moan the moment you fully take him and rest your back on his chest.

The slightest of movement and you can feel his whole length inside you, hot and hard, you lowly whimpering as Minho continues, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other is rubbing on your clit. As the knot inside you tightens, your body instinctively responds by slowly rolling your hips.

“That’s cute,” Minho murmurs as his mouth lingers close to your ear.

Half listening to his word, you turn your head his way and look at him. “Huh?”

He presses a haste kiss on your neck and answers, “I haven't moved yet you're already clenching around me.”

You put your arm around his neck and tangle your hand in his hair. “And maybe you should start doing your part too.” you say with a pout.

Minho smirks and then he tightens his hold around you, “You'd better hold on then cause I'm not going to hold back.” he warns you a second before planting a hard kiss on your lips.

One thing about Minho is that he’s staying true to his words, he's bucking his hips from under you, fast and without any intentions to stop. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you steady as you bounce on his lap for every time he thrusts into you.

Breathless, incoherent noises are spilling out of your parted mouth as you cling onto the last shred of sanity. And when you think you can't take it anymore, Minho keeps pushing through until you fall apart around him.

He doesn't even give you time to gather your senses as he puts all of your hair away and kisses your lips. “You good?” he casually asks like he didn't just fuck your brains out a while ago.

“I'm dead,” you breathlessly sigh, completely spent. “I'm a ghost.”

Minho lets out a low chuckle in amusement. “I didn’t know I was lethal.”

“Oh, trust me. You are,” you say, bringing his head close to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Minho puts his arms around you as you curl into him. The way he holds you right now is different, he holds you as if he's keeping a fragile object on his lap. He trails the length of your arms and then folds them together on your stomach. Together, you stay like that, simply existing in this shared world that only belongs to you and Minho.

The morning after the drama’s first episode airs, Han sits with his phone in hand, scrolling through endless comments and reviews. His heart lifts slightly at the sight of fans praising his chemistry with Minho; they seem excited about the pairing, and some are already declaring themselves fans of their on-screen relationship.

But the more he scrolls, the more his excitement fades. Articles from entertainment sites flood his feed, critiquing his lack of experience, questioning if he’s ready for the screen at all. A few words sting deeply: "too green," "stiff," "not quite convincing."

He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the disappointment. But as he glances up, he catches Minho watching him from across the room, brows knitted with concern.

“Reading comments?” Minho asks, his voice gentle but knowing.

Han hesitates, but he nods, letting out a sigh. “Fans seem to like it… but the critics? Not so much. They’re saying I’m not ready for this.”

Minho moves to sit beside him, leaning back with a casual calm that Han wishes he could imitate. “Critics are always like that,” he says. “They can be harsh, especially with new actors.”

Han swallows, looking down. “Yeah, but... maybe they’re right. I thought I was getting the hang of it, but maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”

Minho gives him a long look, then shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s true at all. You’ve got something that can’t be taught—genuine passion. I can see it, and that’s not something every actor has.”

Han glances at him, a small glimmer of hope returning to his eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods. “Look, we’re a team here. You’re not alone in this. If there’s something you’re struggling with, tell me. I’ll help you.”

A warmth spreads through Han’s chest, the comfort of Minho’s words easing the ache from the criticism. “I appreciate it, really,” he says softly.

Minho gives his shoulder a reassuring pat. “Just remember, it’s early days. If we keep working together and building on this chemistry we have, the audience is going to feel it too. It’s not about perfection; it’s about being present, letting yourself believe in the character.”

Han nods, taking in each word. “I’ll do my best. Thanks, Minho.”

Minho smiles, a slight glint of pride in his gaze. “Good. Now stop overthinking, okay? You’re doing great.”

Han laughs a little, the weight on his shoulders feeling lighter. He’s not sure how he’ll improve overnight, but with Minho’s support, maybe this acting thing doesn’t seem so impossible after all.

As he glances over at Minho, still sitting close and offering a steady, reassuring presence, Han feels a warmth that has nothing to do with his career. It’s more than gratitude, more than admiration. This kindness, this unwavering belief in him—Minho didn’t have to do any of it. And yet, here he is, making Han feel like he’s more than just an idol trying to act, like he’s genuinely capable of this.

In that moment, Han knows he can’t keep denying what he feels any longer. It’s not just respect or admiration. It’s something deeper, something he can’t easily brush aside. As much as he wants to hide it, to keep their friendship untainted by anything more, he realizes he can’t. Not when Minho is the one who makes him feel this way—seen, encouraged, understood. And, with a sinking heart, Han knows that those feelings aren’t going away anytime soon.

Han sighs as he rubs his temples, trying to ease the tension that's been building since the morning. He can’t seem to shake the restless feeling gnawing at him ever since he read those online critiques. No matter how many times he tells himself to let it go—just as Minho advised—the words stick like thorns. As filming wraps up for the day, Han is lost in his own thoughts, trudging toward the parking lot, when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hey, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” Minho’s voice breaks through Han’s clouded mind.

Han looks up, surprised to see Minho standing there with a casual smile. “Uh, yeah, I was heading out,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

Minho raises a brow, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Come with me, then. I know a place—quiet, private. Good for clearing your head.”

The invitation is sudden, and Han blinks, caught off guard. But Minho is already turning, expecting Han to follow. A slight thrill rushes through Han as he nods, curiosity piqued. He falls into step behind Minho, trailing him to a discreet, cozy-looking cafe perched on a hill with a stunning city view.

The lights are dim, casting a soft, golden glow, and the atmosphere is intimate. Han notices immediately that the place is empty, giving them complete privacy.

“It’s nice here, right?” Minho says, glancing around. “A friend of mine owns the place. I rent it out sometimes, just to get some space.”

Han nods, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Just the two of them, alone, in a setting so... cozy. He can’t help but feel the weight of his own feelings pressing down, undeniable. His gaze lingers on Minho, wondering if he senses the energy between them, or if—on some level—he already knows how Han feels.

His heart races, and, feeling bold, he almost asks—asks if Minho knows, if he’s aware of the effect he has on him. But before Han can get a single word out, he hears footsteps. He turns, just in time to see you walking toward them with a bright smile, your eyes lighting up at the sight of Minho.

“Hey,” you greet, and Minho immediately rises to meet you, pulling you into a warm hug and placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Oh, you’re here!” Minho says, his voice softer, affectionate. He turns to Han, still holding your hand. “Han, this is my girlfriend.”

Han feels something in his chest tighten. His smile falters for just a second, but he quickly pulls it back together, offering his hand to you as he forces out a polite, “Hi, nice to meet you.”

You take his hand with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you too, Han! Minho’s told me a lot about working with you.”

Han manages a nod, though his throat feels tight. He wants to say something—anything—but the ache in his heart makes the words stick. The sight of Minho with someone else, with you, sends a hollow feeling through him. He sits there, struggling to maintain his smile, all the while painfully aware that the private moment he thought he’d been sharing with Minho was never just his alone.

The table is set, plates of food and drinks laid out perfectly in front of him. But Han can’t bring himself to touch a single bite. His appetite vanished the moment you walked in, and now every glance at the couple across from him—at you and Minho—is like a quiet, twisting ache in his stomach. He feels faint, like his insides are tangled with something heavy and painful. He knows it's not hunger or exhaustion; it’s something deeper, a pang lodged firmly in his heart.

Forcing a smile, he tries to keep the mood light. He clears his throat and asks, “So… how did you two meet?”

You exchange a warm look with Minho, and he squeezes your hand gently before you answer. “We met at an event at the gallery where I work. I’m a curator, so I was helping with the art exhibition. Minho came as a guest. We didn’t talk much that night, but he found a way to reach out after.”

You chuckle softly, glancing at Minho with an affection that’s obvious. “And the rest, well… it just happened naturally.”

Minho nods, adding, “But we decided to keep it private, for now. I wanted to keep you out of the public eye, spare you the complications.”

There’s a softness in his voice as he speaks to you, a gentleness that makes Han’s heart clench. He can see it—Minho’s care for you, how serious he is about this relationship. The easy comfort you share with him is everything Han wants but can’t have.

A bitter taste fills his mouth, jealousy settling in a solid knot in his chest. He tries to hide it, but he feels every bit of his resentment boiling beneath the surface. He hates it—the way you and Minho fit so perfectly, the way you both look so natural together.

“So, Han,” you ask, turning to him with a friendly smile, “have you been enjoying the drama so far? You’re really good, you know.

“Thank you,” he simply responds with a courteous smile.

“And you're really cute in person, I can’t help but wonder... is there someone you’re secretly seeing too?”

Han swallows, feeling his throat tighten. He forces a small laugh, glancing away. “No, no one. I’m… just focused on work right now.”

He hates that he can’t admit the truth, hates that he’s here, across from you, pretending like everything is fine when all he wants is the person sitting right next to you.

You nod, looking genuinely kind, and somehow that only makes it worse. Han hates how nice you are, how you’re trying to connect with him. He hates how you and Minho look so in sync, how he can feel his heart tearing just from watching the way Minho looks at you.

Most of all, he hates that he can’t just shut off his own feelings. Sitting across from you both, he feels as if he’s being reminded of something he can never have, a painful dream that he knows he needs to give up on, but that still clings to his heart no matter how hard he tries to shake it off.

Minho watches Han carefully, noticing how his usual lighthearted energy seems to have dimmed. As they film take after take, Han's responses lack the spark that usually flows so effortlessly between them. The director's frustration mounts with each retake, his voice tight as he finally calls for a break, clearly exasperated. Minho feels the tension, both on and off set, but his mind zeroes in on Han, who has been uncharacteristically reserved all day.

Taking a deep breath, Minho strides over to Han, watching the younger man stare blankly off to the side, clearly lost in thought.

“Hey,” Minho starts, voice low but firm. “Is everything okay?”

Han shrugs, barely glancing his way. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, but Minho can tell he’s anything but. Han’s usual enthusiasm is missing, leaving an emptiness that’s throwing off their whole rhythm.

Minho presses, not willing to let it slide. “Look, we’re here to work, and the scenes are getting held up because of this...whatever it is.”

He’s careful with his words, knowing that Han is struggling but still needing to emphasize the stakes. “If you’re distracted, if something’s going on, just tell me. We have to get this done right, or we’re going to keep everyone here longer than necessary.”

Han sighs, brushing him off again, though Minho can see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Minho softens his tone, sensing he may have come on too strong. “I’m only saying this because I want us to do well—and I can help, if you’d let me.”

There’s a moment of silence before Han nods, glancing away to mask whatever emotion is flashing through his expression. “Alright. Maybe we can practice the scene together.”

They sit down, scripts in hand, and Minho begins walking him through the lines. But as they work through each moment, he can't shake the feeling that Han is holding something back, a wall just behind his eyes that wasn’t there before. He wonders if something personal is weighing on him, though he knows better than to pry.

Han's heart races as he prepares for today’s scene, a new layer of anticipation weaving through his nerves.

It’s another kissing scene—something he used to dread, but this time, there’s a different kind of excitement, a yearning that feels both thrilling and bittersweet. He doesn’t have to force himself to seem close to Minho; the longing that he’s held back for so long is simmering just beneath the surface, ready to seep into the scene. For once, he allows himself to embrace it, just a little.

They run through a quick rehearsal, and Han tries to focus, but every subtle brush of their hands and each lingering gaze threatens to undo him. As they step into position for the actual take, he forces himself to take a breath and hold steady.

The director calls “Action!” and, with it, Han leans into the moment fully, letting every hidden feeling flow from him as they close the distance between them.

When their lips meet, Han pours every unspoken word, every ache, into the kiss. It’s more than just acting now—it’s a fragile connection that feels achingly real to him, even if only for this stolen moment. He lets himself feel it all, knowing this might be the closest he’ll ever get to showing Minho how deeply he cares. His hand brushes Minho’s cheek as they linger just a second longer, not wanting to let go.

Finally, the director’s “Cut!” jolts them back to reality. They pull away slowly, and as Han opens his eyes, he sees Minho’s expression shifting, as if caught in an unsaid question.

For a heartbeat, he thinks that maybe Minho sensed it—that somehow, in that kiss, his true feelings slipped through. But then Minho’s face relaxes, a warm smile spreading across his lips.

“You’re really getting the hang of these kissing scenes,” Minho says with a casual laugh, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Han’s stomach twists with disappointment, the remnants of that brief connection slipping through his fingers.

As Minho turns and walks off set, Han watches him go, knowing that his feelings remain hidden, unreturned. He wants to believe Minho felt even a fraction of what he did—but as reality settles around him, he knows it was only ever acting for Minho.

After filming wraps up, Minho lingers on set, barely able to shake the scene that’s been replaying in his mind. The kiss with Han felt different somehow—charged with an energy that was hard to pinpoint. He replays it in his head, wondering if maybe Han poured a little more into it, making it all the more convincing. Maybe he was just that good at acting, Minho tries to reason, but the thought keeps tugging at him, unresolved and pressing.

His phone chimes, breaking him from his thoughts, and his heart lifts when he sees your name light up the screen.

Opening the message, he’s met with a picture that instantly brings a smile to his face—a hint of mischief and a lot of allure, just like you. You tease him in the caption, making it obvious that you want to tantalize him this nude picture of you.

With a grin, he types back, playfully: “Not enough to cure it, you’re going to need to send more.”

And right on cue, you do, sending him another that’s even more provoking, arousing even.

“What you've been missing when you're away.” You write in a follow-up text.

“Maybe you should come to me instead.” He writes bacm but even in his teasing, there’s an underlying wish that you were really here with him, grounding him.

As he looks at your messages, Minho feels a deep warmth. Beyond attraction, beyond companionship, there’s a completeness in his life with you—a sense that he has everything he needs. And maybe, that’s what he needs to focus on, even amid his rising fame and unexpected connections on set. You’re more than enough; you’re what matters most to him, reminding him of who he is and what truly grounds him.

The day begins with a hint of anticipation buzzing in Han's chest, something he can't fully ignore. After yesterday’s kiss scene, he feels oddly lighter, but it hasn’t lessened his feelings for Minho—if anything, it’s intensified them. He worries that this pull he feels toward Minho will linger far longer than he’s ready to admit.

His first scene of the day is an intense one, an emotional scene he’s been rehearsing tirelessly. Though he knows Minho isn’t in the scene, a wave of surprise rushes over him when he sees Minho watching from a distance, blending in with the crew lined up behind the camera. A tiny flicker of nervousness unsettles him, feeling as though he’s being carefully assessed by Minho, even if it’s just him being there. The thought of wanting to impress Minho nudges at him, urging him to pour his heart into this take.

As the camera rolls, Han steps fully into his character, letting each line carry the weight of the scene’s emotions. He loses himself in it, forgetting even the people watching until, finally, he hears the director call, “Cut!” He lets out a breath, a sense of release, noticing his co-star’s encouraging smile and the director’s approving nod. But just as he looks for Minho, he sees him disappear behind a wave of moving crew members, leaving Han feeling strangely empty.

Later that day, after Han’s costume change, Minho finds him in a quiet moment. Han’s heart jumps as he notices the way Minho looks at him—a soft smile lighting up his face, more genuine than anything he’s seen from him before. That one look sends a rush through him, and when Minho speaks, his words only deepen the effect.

“That was a really good scene, Jisung,” Minho says with a warmth that Han can’t help but soak up. “You did great.”

The praise hits Han hard, and he feels both flattered and resentful of the ache it leaves. This approval, this smile—it's exactly what he wants, yet he knows how dangerous it is to hold on to it. Minho’s encouragement fills him with a quiet joy but also makes him painfully aware of his own unresolved feelings. Han wrestles between wanting to hold onto these feelings or forcing himself to let them go, but the choice only feels harder with every small moment like this.

As you sit on the couch, phone in hand, you glance once more at your screen. Still no reply from Minho. You’d sent him a couple of texts earlier, just checking in, but the lack of response now is stretching into hours. You tell yourself he’s probably caught up in filming—it wouldn’t be the first time—but still, you can’t help wondering what he’s up to.

Tonight is the broadcast of the new episode of his drama, and you’ve set up everything to watch it: dimmed lights, a cozy blanket, and your favorite snacks lined up on the coffee table. Just as you settle into the sofa, there’s a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; Minho usually lets himself in, and you can’t think of anyone else who would come by unannounced.

When you open the door, there he is, pulling down his mask to reveal that familiar sly smirk. His eyes are bright with that hint of mischief you love, and before you can even say a word, he’s leaning against the door frame, clearly pleased with himself for the surprise.

“Missed me, stranger?” he says with a playful grin.

You barely wait for him to step inside before you practically throw yourself into his arms, wrapping around him in a tight hug. Excitement bubbles over as you press a series of quick, affectionate kisses all over his face, earning a warm laugh from him.

“Missed you,” You whine as you hold his face in both hands.

Minho’s arms slide around your waist, pulling you close, and he murmurs against your hair, “I missed you too. That’s why I’m here.” He’s smiling as he says it, his tone light but his gaze soft, as if being here with you is exactly where he wants to be.

“You could’ve at least answered one of my texts!” you tease, poking his chest gently.

“That would’ve ruined the surprise,” he counters, his smile growing.

The two of you are cozied up on the sofa, his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his warmth, both fully engrossed in the episode playing out on screen. Every so often, you toss out a playful comment about Minho’s acting, teasing him for an overly dramatic look here, a “heroic” line delivery there. He chuckles along with you, sometimes leaning in to nudge your shoulder in faux protest.

Then, the intimate scene comes on, the one you knew would happen eventually but hadn’t quite prepared yourself to watch with him right next to you.

On screen, Minho and Han move closer, the scene building until the two share a slow, meaningful kiss. The room goes still, and for a moment, neither of you say anything, just watching the scene in silence.

As the kiss fades to the next shot, you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You give Minho a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say with a grin, “you didn’t even kiss me like that. I’m starting to feel a little jealous here.”

He laughs, a bit of color coming to his cheeks, and he lifts his free hand, shrugging playfully. “What can I say? I’m just a great actor,” he jokes, clearly enjoying the teasing exchange.

But then, something shifts. He grows quiet, his gaze softening as he looks at you, his playful expression fading into something warmer, deeper. He reaches out, taking your hand in his and intertwining your fingers with a gentle squeeze.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks out of the blue.

“All of a sudden?” You ask back in utter confusion.

“I mean it. I love you so much.” He murmurs, his voice lower than a whisper.

The sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him, feeling the depth of his words sink in. It’s not often that Minho expresses his feelings so openly, and hearing him say it like this—it’s almost overwhelming.

You give his hand a squeeze, your heart racing. “I love you too,” you say, your own voice soft with emotion and lean in to plant a heartfelt kiss on his lips.

And as you settle back against him, you feel a sense of warmth and reassurance, a quiet understanding that nothing could come between you, not even a screen full of on-screen kisses.

As he waits to be called to set, Han steels himself, trying to bury the emotion stirring inside him. But he can’t shake the thought that his heart might betray him when it matters most.

The buzz of excitement and nerves in Han’s chest grows stronger with each step he takes toward the set. He’s been preparing for this scene, both mentally and emotionally, and he knows how important it is to the storyline, but there's more to it—this is the scene where Minho’s character will finally confess his feelings.

Han’s heart pounds harder just thinking about it, knowing the lines that will be said, the emotions that will pour out between them, even if it's all scripted.

He spots Minho on set, dressed sharply, looking even more stunning under the warm, intimate lighting. The setting feels romantic, with subtle touches arranged to evoke tenderness, and everything about it draws Han deeper into the atmosphere.

He takes a slow breath, trying to calm his nerves, but his hands still feel clammy, his stomach flipping at the thought of what they’re about to portray. He reminds himself it’s just acting, but when it comes to Minho, it feels like anything but.

When the director finally calls action, Han barely has a chance to prepare himself before Minho starts speaking, his voice low and sincere. The words Minho’s character says are filled with yearning, with raw honesty, and as Han listens, he finds himself lost in them, his heart aching as if they’re directed at him.

Without thinking, his body responds instinctively, as if it’s moving on its own accord. He reaches for Minho, stepping closer, and in the quiet pause between lines, he leans in. The kiss isn’t in the script, but it feels right, a raw improvisation that spills over the line between their characters and themselves.

For a moment, he forgets the cameras, the crew, and everything else—just the warmth of Minho’s presence, the closeness, the sense of something deeper.

In that split second, Han lets his own feelings slip, letting Minho feel what he’s held back all this time. It’s terrifying, yet exhilarating, and he can feel his heart racing as he wonders if Minho will notice, if somehow he’ll sense the truth beneath the surface.

As the director calls cut, Han steps back, trying to steady his breathing and his emotions. The kiss lingers in his mind, an echo of feelings he knows he shouldn’t have let surface, and he’s torn between regret and the quiet thrill of that moment with Minho. It felt real—too real—and he can only hope no one else noticed the depth of what he let slip.

But as he glances toward the crew lined up behind the camera, his gaze lands on you. You’re standing there, just out of the frame but close enough that it’s clear you’ve been watching.

Han’s heart skips, panic rising as he catches a look on your face that makes his stomach turn. There’s something in your expression, a subtle knowing, a hint of suspicion, as if you saw more in that scene than the scripted performance. It’s a look that seems to cut through him, one that makes him feel as though he’s been caught, exposed.

Han’s heart beats faster, his eyes quickly averting, but the feeling lingers, heavy and suffocating. In that single glance, he fears you’ve seen everything he’s been trying so hard to hide.

Disguised as Minho’s assistant, you make your way through the bustling studio complex, heart fluttering with excitement at the thought of surprising him. His manager is in on it, guiding you through the maze of set pieces and equipment with a casual nod, helping you blend in as just another member of the crew. You can hardly wait to see Minho in action, to watch him shine in the role he’s been so invested in.

When you finally arrive at the set, it’s just as he and Han are about to start filming. Quietly, you settle yourself among the crew, standing beside Minho’s manager as everyone prepares to watch the scene. Your eyes find Minho instantly, and you feel a swell of pride watching him work, completely in his element.

As the director calls for action, you’re immediately drawn into the scene. Minho and Han stand together, their faces a mixture of vulnerability and intensity. Minho delivers his lines with that familiar, effortless passion, but there’s something more, something unspoken in the way he looks at Han.

The air between them crackles with emotion, a depth of connection that feels almost palpable. Han responds with equal intensity, his gaze fixed on Minho, raw and completely believable.

Watching them, an unexpected pang of jealousy cuts through you. You’ve seen Minho work with countless actors, watched him perform in intimate scenes before, but there’s something different here. Their chemistry is undeniable, powerful in a way that feels unsettlingly real. The way Minho looks at Han… you’ve seen that look before, but it was meant for you.

An uneasy feeling builds in your chest, making it difficult to stay there any longer. Suddenly, being in the midst of the crew, watching this connection unfold, feels suffocating. You don’t want to make a scene, but you need some space, somewhere to process what you’re feeling.

Without drawing attention to yourself, you quietly slip out of the studio and make your way to Minho’s car. Sitting alone, you take a few deep breaths, trying to shake the images of what you’ve just seen, to push away the unsettling thoughts.

But they linger, and for the first time, you feel a strange sense of distance, as if the Minho you’ve known might be drifting somewhere you can’t reach.

Minho still feels shaken from that last scene, his thoughts tangled between reality and the emotions that flared up so unexpectedly. He wasn’t sure if it was acting or something more; the way Han looked at him, the intensity of it, felt… different. He steals a glance at Han, hoping for some kind of clue or confirmation, but before he can say anything, his manager approaches, letting him know that you came to set to surprise him.

He barely manages a nod before making a quick exit to the parking lot. As he reaches the car and sees you there, he feels an instant rush of relief. But as he takes in your expression, he notices something—a subtle hesitation, a shadow he can’t quite read.

The surprise in your eyes catches him off guard, almost as if you hadn’t expected him to come out so soon, like you weren’t fully prepared to see him.

“Hey, stranger,” he greets you, a smile breaking through the confusion swirling in his mind.

He quickly closes the distance, taking your hand, pulling you close as he wraps you in a tight hug. He kisses your lips softly, grateful that you’re here, grounding him after the surreal scene he’d just finished.

“Thank you for coming to see me.”

You give him a gentle smile, though he senses a slight distraction in your eyes. “I watched that scene you did with Han,” you say, your tone warm but reserved. “You were… incredible. So was Han.”

Your compliment touches him, but there’s something in the way you say it that feels… off. Before he can put a finger on it, you take a bag from the backseat. “Figure you'd be hungry so I brought you food.”

Minho gladly takes it from because he's indeed famished, unknowingly has skipped on a meal. He delivers his gratitude with a quick peck on your lips. “You know me so well.”

“Minho, I...” you talk with an edge to your voice and Minho holds his breath as he waits for you to finish your sentence. “I don't think I can stay long.”

“That’s okay. I'm happy just to see you even for a bit.” Minho, knowing he’ll be filming well into the night, doesn’t press you to stay, though a small part of him wants to. He doesn’t want you waiting around all night in discomfort.

“Alright,” he says softly, releasing you but keeps his hand intertwined with yours. “Make sure to get home safe and thank you for the food.” He gives you a warm smile, savoring one last kiss before letting you go.

Just before you exit the car, he catches a faint hesitation in the way you return his kiss. It’s fleeting, barely noticeable, but something about it lingers as he watches you walk away. He brushes it off for now, telling himself it’s just a long day getting to him.

Han’s heart races as Minho approaches him with that bright smile, so full of energy, as if the last twelve hours of filming hadn’t taken a toll on him at all. Han has been trying to stick to a plan—finish each scene and make a quick exit, not giving his heart any more time to catch up to the feelings he’s been wrestling with. But seeing Minho like this, so openly pleased to be near him, has him feeling dizzy with hope and dread all at once.

When Minho pulls him aside, Han’s pulse quickens. He can’t tell if he’s nervous or just bracing himself, wondering why Minho would be so close, why he’s leaning in.

“It’s my girlfriend's birthday and I uh... we're doing a get-together tonight and she wants you to come,” Minho’s voice drops as he tells Han about it and his eyes are steadily scanning his surroundings just in case someone is eavesdropping.

“But it’s okay if you can't come,” Minho is quick to add that there’s no pressure, that Han is welcome to decline.

Han knows he should turn it down, excuse himself with work or exhaustion, anything to put some distance between him and this moment that feels far too tempting.

But the way Minho’s eyes look at him, with that open warmth, makes it so hard to walk away. A part of him longs to be with Minho just a little longer, even if he knows he shouldn’t.

“Alright,” he hears himself say, his voice soft. “I’ll come.”

Han hadn’t known what to expect when he agreed to come to your birthday celebration, but a small, intimate gathering of just the three of you was nowhere near what he’d imagined.

There’s a cake on the table, candles lit and flickering softly, casting a warm glow over the empty café. Han and Minho sing you a slightly off-key version of “Happy Birthday,” and when you blow out the candle, Minho leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, murmuring a quiet, “Happy birthday, love.”

The kiss is both beautiful and unbearable for Han. He forces a small smile, trying not to look too long at how perfect the two of you seem together, how he can’t help but wish he were the one beside Minho in that way.

When it’s his turn, he clears his throat and offers a sincere, “Happy birthday. I, uh… I didn’t bring a gift yet, but I’ll make sure Minho delivers one soon.”

“Thank you, Han,” you reply, giving him a warm smile. “You being here is more than enough.”

The three of you share the cake, and while you all laugh and chat, Minho’s phone rings, cutting the conversation short. He glances at the screen and sighs. “I should take this—it’ll just be a minute.” He stands up and heads outside, leaving you and Han alone in a silence that settles thick between you both.

Han shifts uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say. “I really am sorry I didn’t bring anything. I… I just didn’t know it’d be this, uh… personal.”

You smile, but there’s something different in it. “It’s okay, Han. Actually… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

You look at him for a long moment, and then, out of nowhere, you ask, “Do you like Minho?”

Han blinks, taken aback but he knows better to opt for a safe answer. “Of course. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s a great guy, and he’s an amazing actor.”

Your expression remains calm but your eyes locked on his, staring intensely. “You know what I mean, Han.”

He stares at you, his initial denial withering under the weight of your gaze. His chest tightens, and suddenly, he feels vulnerable, exposed. “I… I admire him, I really do. He’s just… easy to look up to.”

But you don’t let him off that easily. You look at him with quiet understanding, and he realizes you already know. His voice falters as he adds, “I… I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I’ve tried to make it go away, but…”

His voice trails off, and he watches you, waiting for anger, for judgment—something. But instead, you surprise him.

“Then tell him,” you say gently. “When filming ends. You have until then.”

He stares at you, his heart racing. “W-What?”

“I’m giving you the chance to tell him yourself, Han,” you say, your tone gentle yet unwavering. “Whatever happens after that… well, that’s for the three of us to figure out.”

Han can’t believe what he’s hearing. A thousand thoughts flood his mind, but he has no chance to respond. Just then, Minho returns, looking between the two of you, sensing the strange tension.

“What’s going on here?” Minho chuckles, oblivious. “Did Han just remember he forgot to bring you a birthday present?”

You smile, deflecting with a light laugh. “Pretty much.”

Minho laughs, taking a seat beside you. “Well, lucky for you, I didn’t forget.”

He hands you a small, wrapped box, eyes twinkling. “Here—open it.”

You unwrap the box and find a delicate necklace inside. It’s simple but elegant, the kind of thing that’s unmistakably Minho’s taste. Your eyes soften, and Minho smiles, reaching over. “Here, let me.”

As he moves closer, his fingers brush your neck while he fastens the clasp. Han watches from across the table, feeling something heavy settle in his chest as Minho’s attention focuses entirely on you.

“There,” Minho says softly, sitting back with a satisfied grin. “Looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you,” you say, a touch shyly, your fingers brushing over the pendant.

Han forces a smile as he sits, his mind swirling. He feels as though he’s been given a choice he never imagined he’d have to make—and he wonders if he has the courage to take it.

Minho pulls up outside your apartment building, letting the car idle as he glances over at you. He wants you to stay, he always does, and tonight is no different. With a hopeful smile, he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Just one night won’t hurt, right?”

You laugh softly, the sound warm but faintly tired, and shake your head. “I’d love to, but I have to leave early tomorrow. It’s the opening for the exhibition at the gallery, remember?” You pause, then add with a teasing grin, “Besides, we both know there wouldn’t be much sleep if I stayed.”

He chuckles, understanding immediately, though he can’t deny the disappointment that lingers. He always craves more time with you, more moments like these, but he nods in acceptance.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh of defeat.

As you turn to say goodnight, leaning in for a soft, lingering kiss, Minho feels something different, something beneath the surface that he can’t quite put his finger on. Before you can pull away, he draws you back in, pressing his lips to yours again, deeper this time, seeking the reassurance he hadn’t known he needed. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he kisses you, like he’s searching for an answer to a question he doesn’t know how to ask.

When he finally pulls back, his hand still rests on the back of your neck, thumb tracing gentle circles there. He looks into your eyes, brow slightly furrowed. “Are we… okay? You and me?”

Your smile is soft but slightly strained, your voice gentle as you reply, “Of course we are, Minho. Everything’s fine.”

But as you pull away, Minho can’t shake the feeling that your answer isn’t entirely convincing. There’s something lingering in your gaze, something unsaid, and it hangs in the air long after you step out of the car and wave goodnight.

Watching you disappear into your building, Minho grips the steering wheel tightly, his mind racing. He doesn’t know what’s bothering you or what’s weighing on your mind, but he’s determined to find out. Whatever it is, he’s not going to let it come between you—not if he can help it.

The flowers arrive just as you’re beginning to settle into your day, a bouquet bursting with blush roses and delicate lilies. Tucked inside, there’s a small, handwritten note: “Missed you, stranger.”

You can’t ignore the pang of guilt that hits you as you read those words. Lately, you’ve been putting distance between you and Minho, caught up in your work and all too aware of how it must feel to him. You send him a quick text to thank him, hoping it conveys more than just words. But before you can put your phone down, it rings, and you see his name on the screen.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his voice that immediately pulls at you. “So… did you get them? Do you like the flowers?”

You can hear the hopefulness in his tone, and it stirs something deep inside. “I love them. They’re beautiful, Minho. Thank you.”

His laughter is soft, but you can tell he means it when he says, “I kinda had to. You’re starting to feel like a stranger to me, you know?”

The pang of guilt sharpens. He’s not wrong. Your busy schedule has taken its toll, and your relationship has been on the quiet side for too long now.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, hating how small the words sound. “I didn’t mean for things to get like this.”

There’s a pause, as if he’s letting your words sink in. “I miss you,” he says finally, and it’s so honest, so simple, that it breaks through all the walls you’ve been putting up.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his words settle in. “I miss you too, Minho.”

His sigh is full of relief. “Then let’s see each other this weekend. I’ll come over, or we can go out—whatever you want. Just… let’s spend some time together.”

You hesitate, knowing what you have to say next. “I wish I could. But… I’m going on a work trip. I’ll be out until early next week.”

The silence that follows is thick with his disappointment. “Ah,” he says finally, and though he tries to mask it, you can hear the hurt in his voice. “I get it. It’s just... been a while since we actually spent time together.”

You feel his pain like it’s your own. “I know. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Alright,” he says, a touch of resignation there now. “Just… don’t be a stranger too long, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t.”

When the call ends, you’re left holding the phone, staring at the flowers, and hoping that when you’re finally back, it won’t feel like the distance has grown too much for either of you to cross.

Han has been caught in a constant tug-of-war with himself, torn between wanting to keep his distance from Minho and feeling that undeniable pull toward him. He can’t stop thinking about you and the offer you made, the chance to tell Minho the truth—a chance he knows is dangerous to take, but also one he can’t stop thinking about. But for now, he’s settled for a safer distance. Not too far, not too close. After all, it’s not his fault if Minho is the one who keeps stepping into that space, right?

Sitting alone in the empty changing room, Han studies his script, though the words feel hazy, his mind clouded with everything but the lines he’s supposed to memorize. Then he hears the door open, and Minho walks in, dropping down on the bench next to him. Han hates the way his heart betrays him, lifting and quickening just at the sight of him.

Minho speaks quietly, his voice low even though they’re alone. “Hey… about that night at the uh... birthday party. Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

Han tries to play it off, plastering on a look of confusion. “Not sure what you mean, hyung. Nothing happened, really.”

Minho lets out a soft sigh, eyes narrowing in the way they do when he’s trying to figure someone out. “It’s just… she's been acting slightly different around me since then. And I thought maybe… I don’t know, maybe she mentioned something to you?”

Han swallows, trying to keep his face neutral even as his mind races. He can feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on him, searching for something—an answer, maybe, or just some kind of hint. He should tell the truth; it’s right there, at the tip of his tongue. He could just say it, let everything out, let Minho know exactly how he feels.

But his nerve falters, and he finds himself shaking his head. “No, they didn’t say anything to me.” The lie slips out too easily, and he hates himself a little more for it.

There’s a moment, a charged silence between them, as if Minho is still trying to pry the truth out of him without words. Han’s chest tightens, his lips part, and for just a second, he thinks he might actually confess, might let himself finally say it.

But before he can, the door opens again, and a crew member steps in, breaking the moment. Han glances down quickly, hiding the expression on his face, and when he looks back up, Minho has already shifted back into his usual easygoing self, the vulnerable moment now lost.

As Minho returns to studying his own lines, Han can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever have the courage to take the chance you offered—or if he’s doomed to keep it hidden forever, just out of reach.

Even though you know he might not read it right away, you send Minho a quick text the moment your plane lands. Just something simple, letting him know you’re home safe, so he won’t worry. The exhaustion of the trip starts to settle in as you unlock your door, finally home, ready for nothing but a hot shower and some rest.

After your shower, you’re standing in the bathroom, towel-drying your hair when you hear the front door click open. It’s surprising because you hadn’t expected him. You’d assumed he’d be busy on set, wrapped up in his usual back-to-back schedule.

“Hey, stranger, I didn’t—”

Before you can finish the sentence, Minho crosses the space between you, pulling you into a tight hug, his arms wound around you like he’s trying to hold onto you with everything he has. His kiss is different tonight—there’s something raw, almost desperate, in the way he presses his lips to yours, like he’s afraid he won’t get another chance.

You feel his hand slide to the back of your neck, holding you close, and the intensity takes you by surprise. You pull back just slightly, searching his face, and see something you haven’t seen before: Minho’s usual confidence replaced by a quiet vulnerability.

“Hey…” you say softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

He looks away, almost as if he’s gathering himself, before he speaks. “I just… I feel like you’re slipping away from me. Like, you’re here, but… I don’t know, it feels like I’m losing you, and I can’t stand it.” His voice is low, but there’s no mistaking the emotion behind it.

He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours, his expression so open, so raw. “I don’t want to lose you. I love you so much, more than I know how to say.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through any distance that’s been creeping in between you two, and you feel your heart swell. You reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, brushing it gently away from his face.

“Oh, Minho,” you murmur, pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Later that night, your naked bodies are tangled around each other on the bed, he has you under him, your hands are tightly clasped as Minho thrusts into you at a painstakingly slow pace. No games, no teasing, no playful, naughty comments in between kisses, it's just Minho making sweet, sweet love to you.

His brown eyes are deeply looking into your eyes, making you feel naked, more exposed than you already are. You know that he loves you but seeing him this vulnerable and openly admitted how much he fears losing you... you endearingly brush the hair falling over his forehead away and smile at him.

“Minho...” you place a tender rub of your thumb on his cheek and whisper, “I love you so much.”

Minho doesn’t say anything but tilts his head slightly to the side and lowers his mouth on you, placing kisses that trails up your neck and eventually finds its way to your lips. Soon, his body closing in the gap between your bodies until they mold into one and move in sync. You feel him relax around you, his arms loosening, but his grip on your hand remains firm. You lay close together in the quiet, his head buried in the crook of your shoulder, the room filled with an unspoken promise—one that feels stronger than ever.

You stir, feeling a warm, familiar presence beside you, followed by the softest kisses trailing across your bare shoulders. For a moment, you wonder if you’re still dreaming. It’s so rare for you to wake up with Minho still in bed—usually, his early mornings mean you open your eyes to an empty spot beside you, the only trace of him being the faint scent left behind on his pillow.

But this time, as you turn over, Minho’s face is right there, his eyes lighting up as he realizes you’re awake. He leans in, pressing a warm, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he murmurs softly, his voice still sleepy and fond.

You blink at him, smiling as you pretend to be in awe. “Is this real? You’re actually here, watching me sleep?” you tease. “I have to admit, I could get used to waking up like this.”

He smiles, a playful glint in his eye. “Guess I got lucky and don’t have an early call today,” he says. “Plus, I thought I’d stick around, make you breakfast for once.”

“Wow,” you say, dramatically widening your eyes. “Breakfast in bed? Someone pinch me—I might actually be dreaming.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, then grins mischievously. Instead of pinching you, he leans down and gives your shoulder a playful bite, making you laugh as you push him away.

“Okay, okay!” you say, laughing. “Guess I’m awake after all.”

He chuckles, leaning in to plant one more quick kiss on your lips before he gets out of bed, throwing on a t-shirt and glancing back at you with a smile that makes your heart flutter. You feel so at ease, so light, as you watch him head toward the kitchen. For once, he’s here, sharing an ordinary morning with you, and there’s nothing dreamlike about it—it’s perfectly, wonderfully real.

It’s a rare, quiet morning, and Minho can’t help but savor it. He watches you across the table, laughing over breakfast as you share your plans for the day. There’s a calmness in this moment that he rarely gets, and he wants to remember it—the way you smile, the way sunlight falls on your face, the easy rhythm between you.

As he thinks about the upcoming wrap-up party, he realizes it’s the perfect chance for the two of you to step out together, and he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. Setting his fork down, he gathers his nerve and finally asks, “Hey, would you come to the wrap-up party with me?”

Your eyes widen slightly, and Minho can tell you understand the risk—he’s putting his career, his privacy, all of it on the line for this relationship. But he doesn’t care; for the first time, he feels ready, willing to risk the whispers, the stories, the scrutiny.

“Okay,” you answer with a nod, agreeing without hesitation.

Minho feels a surge of warmth and relief. You’re ready, too, and that means everything.

But then you bring up Han, almost out of the blue. “How’s Han doing?” you ask, a casual question, but one that catches Minho off guard.

“He’s doing well,” Minho replies, not thinking much of it at first. He explains a little about the last few scenes they filmed, how the entire crew is working hard to bring the final moments together.

You nod, listening intently, but then you ask another question, one that feels a bit more pointed. “Are you two still filming those... emotional scenes?”

Minho studies your face, sensing something beneath the surface of your curiosity. You’re searching for something, a hint of something you’re not ready to say. He knows you well enough to see it, and while he doesn’t press you, a quiet worry lingers in his mind.

The last day of filming feels heavier than Han ever imagined. He should feel relief, maybe even pride—but all he feels is a gnawing sense of urgency. It’s his last chance to tell Minho how he really feels, and though he’s been avoiding it, he knows he’ll regret it if he never says a word.

Taking a deep breath, Han walks over to where Minho stands, chatting with a few crew members. His hands are clammy, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he taps Minho’s shoulder. Minho turns, and his expression lights up with that easy, familiar smile, but seeing it makes Han’s heart ache even more.

“Hey, Han!” Minho says warmly. “We did it. Congratulations on finishing your first drama.”

Han manages a small smile, mumbling, “Thanks... same to you.”

There’s a pause, a space where Han can feel himself teetering between holding back and letting go. He opens his mouth to speak, to say the words he’s been holding onto for so long, but before he can, Minho speaks again.

“You know,” Minho starts, his tone sincere, “I’ve had a great time working with you. Really, Han, we made a good team.”

Han’s stomach tightens, sensing where this is going.

“And what I really appreciate is how professional you were about everything,” Minho adds, a subtle emphasis lingering in his words. His eyes hold a quiet understanding, as if he already knows what Han was about to say and is gently letting him down.

The words stick in Han’s throat, dying on his lips. Minho’s kindness is unmistakable, and his meaning is painfully clear. Han swallows, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he nods, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, forcing a smile. “It’s been... really great.”

But inside, he feels his heart breaking, each beat carrying a weight he can hardly bear as he takes a step back, feeling as though he’s losing something he never even had.

Han manages to keep his expression steady, even as he feels the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Minho, still smiling, extends his hand.

"See you at the wrap-up party later?" Minho says, his tone light and friendly, as if unaware of the ache that’s slowly eating away at Han.

Han hesitates for just a second before he reaches out, clasping Minho’s hand. The handshake feels formal, a sharp contrast to all the warmth, laughter, and quiet moments they shared over the past months. For Han, it’s a goodbye he’s not ready to say, but he squeezes Minho’s hand tightly, holding onto it just a heartbeat longer.

“Yeah... I’ll see you there,” he says, forcing the words out with a nod.

Minho gives him one last friendly smile before letting go, his fingers slipping away, leaving Han’s hand cold and empty. Han watches him walk away, feeling the finality of that handshake settle deep in his chest. This was it—the end of everything they’d built together on screen, and perhaps, a reminder of everything that could never happen offscreen.

As the door closes behind Minho, Han is left standing alone, trying to gather himself for the celebration ahead, all while feeling like he’s quietly mourning a loss that only he understands.

The wrap-up party buzzes with excitement and laughter as everyone gathers to celebrate the drama’s success. Minho’s hand in yours is warm and steady as he leads you inside, a small but powerful gesture that feels like a silent promise. This is your first time stepping into his world, publicly, and your heart races with a blend of nervousness and exhilaration. You know what this means—for both of you. Minho glances down at you and smiles, a comforting reassurance that you’re right where you belong.

As he introduces you around, you find yourself meeting the director, the crew, and Minho’s fellow cast members. Each of them is surprised, but warmly so, learning that Minho is dating someone outside the industry. Their welcoming smiles help ease the tension you’ve been holding, though it’s Minho’s presence, steady and unwavering at your side, that really keeps you calm.

Then, across the room, you spot Han. He’s chatting politely with some cast members, appearing as cheerful as everyone else, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze that betrays him. You see through the calm facade, sensing a quiet sadness lingering beneath it.

When there’s a brief lull, you find a chance to speak with Han alone, pulling him aside to a quieter corner of the room. He looks at you, surprised, and then a hint of understanding softens his expression.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” you ask softly, not wanting to intrude, but hoping he’ll confide in you.

Han gives you a sad smile, his eyes flickering with something unspoken. “Because… I had Minho,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You’re caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a small, bittersweet laugh, his gaze drifting away as if he’s seeing something distant. “In those scenes, in the drama,” he begins, voice thick with emotion. “I had him. For that time, we were… everything I’d wanted us to be.”

He pauses, taking a breath, collecting himself before looking back at you with quiet acceptance. “It was enough. Because that’s what Minho and I could have been—but what we’ll never be.”

The weight of his words settles over you, a haunting realization of what he’s endured in silence. There’s nothing you can say, so you simply place a gentle hand on his arm, sharing in his sorrow, understanding the depth of his unspoken feelings.

Han gives you a small, grateful nod before he glances away, quietly pulling himself back into the celebration. Watching him go, you’re left with a mix of empathy and sadness, understanding now just how deeply he loved Minho—and how he’s finally letting him go.

As the party winds down and you and Minho leave, his hand finds yours once more, intertwining your fingers as you walk into the quiet night. There's a warmth to his touch, an unspoken reassurance that grounds you, yet Han’s words still linger, leaving a bittersweet ache in your chest. You feel torn between the happiness of being with Minho and the weight of knowing what Han silently gave up.

Once you’re inside the car, sitting beside Minho on the passenger's seat, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight has left a lasting mark, especially on Han.

Minho notices the quiet contemplation in your expression and turns to you, eyebrows raised with a gentle curiosity.

“Ready to go home?” he asks, reaching to gently trace his thumb along your hand.

It seems like he's just snapped you out of your trance as you get a bit startled by the gentle squeeze on your knee. “Mmh, yes, I'm ready.”

You offer a convincing smile as you lean into him and try again. “Let’s go home.”

As the car launches forward, you find yourself holding onto Minho’s hand with a newfound appreciation. Han’s journey may have ended in heartbreak, but in some way, it brought you and Minho closer, and you can only hope that one day, Han will find someone who will give him a real happy ending, but more importantly, he find a story that’s all his own—a story that doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Differential Diagnosis

Spencer Reid x fem!reader x platonic!James Wilson

wc: 3.4k

note: okay, hyperfixations are WORKING. I started watching House MD (I saw a few seasons years ago, but I'd forgotten about it) and this just popped into my head during a night of mystical delirium. I hope it makes some sense; I had a lot of fun writing it.

The mere thought of asking Gregory House for a favor made your stomach turn.

Not because he was incompetent—quite the opposite—but because you knew his corrosive humor and his eagerness to make others uncomfortable all too well. Every time your paths crossed in the past, he found a way to mess with you, point out any personality trait that might make you vulnerable, and laugh it off with his signature mocking tone.

And yet, there you were, standing next to Spencer Reid at Princeton-Plainsboro, trying to convince yourself that this encounter wouldn’t be as terrible as you imagined.

As members of the FBI, the team had the freedom to consult with as many specialists as necessary, even if they weren’t directly involved in the case you were working on. And deep down, you knew there was no one better to help you than Gregory.

You cursed the moment Spencer had mentioned it in front of Hotch because you had to confess to the "friendship"—if you could even call it that—you had with the doctor. Well, more than a friendship, Hotch had sent you because he trusted that you could persuade him. You had asked Reid to go with you so he could explain the medical aspects and, in part, as a kind of punishment for him.

You had already spoken with the hospital director, and she had given you the all-clear to head to his office. When you arrived, House had his back turned, checking something on his computer. His voice greeted you before you could even speak.

“If this is another attempt by Cuddy to get me to take cases for free, tell her my charity quota is already exhausted this week.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you said, crossing your arms.

House slowly turned in his chair, and upon seeing you, a mocking smile appeared on his face.

“Well, well. My favorite FBI agent. What brings you here? Need a consultation, or are you here to arrest me for being too cool?”

You sighed. House was already getting on your nerves, and you hadn’t even been with him for five minutes.

“I’m sure if I were to arrest you, it wouldn’t be for that. We need your help with a case.”

House leaned his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers. He looked curious, like someone who, after hours of boredom, was offered an intellectual challenge. At least you had one advantage: you knew him well enough to read his expressions.

“Are you serious? The United States National Security and Intelligence Service needs Gregory House?”

“Maybe. But if you get too full of yourself, there are always other alternatives.”

“None as good as me, I see. I’m the first one you go to,” he murmured, a mixture of arrogance and mockery in his voice. “Don’t you have other FBI doctors for this? Or perhaps a 'medical council' that includes the entire detective team?”

You took a few steps closer, making it clear you were there for something serious. Spencer followed you cautiously.

“No, House. What we have is... something we can’t solve without your specialized knowledge. And I know this because you specialize in cases that no one else can interpret correctly.”

“And what do I gain?”

Reid intervened in his patient tone.

“It’s a case with complex medical implications. We thought you might be interested.”

House turned his head toward him, assessing him. He seemed as if he had barely noticed his presence.

“And who are you?”

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you said, stepping forward. “He’s my colleague at the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Huh. I’ve heard about you…” House began, as if Reid were some kind of celebrity whose biography he was now trying to recall. “You’re the genius at the FBI, aren’t you? The child prodigy who memorized the Encyclopedia Britannica before he could ride a bike.”

“It wasn’t before I learned to ride a bike,” Reid corrected matter-of-factly.

House burst out laughing.

“Okay, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention. What do we know?”

You sat in the chairs in front of his desk and slid the files you had brought toward him. Reid, from his spot, waited patiently for you to give him a signal to begin the explanation.

“Several victims have developed severe neurological symptoms before dying. We haven’t found any common toxins or obvious signs of poisoning, but their organs show unexplained deterioration.”

House flipped through the documents with little interest, probably analyzing what Spencer was saying.

“Interesting.”

“At autopsy, we found significant degeneration in the basal ganglia and the substantia nigra of the brain,” he continued. “There was also an abnormal accumulation of proteins in the limbic system, similar to what occurs in prion diseases, but without the presence of prions themselves.”

“Go on.”

“The liver tissue showed massive necrosis, with no signs of viral infection. And the lungs had edema, although the fluid levels were not sufficient to indicate severe heart failure.”

House narrowed his eyes.

“Hallucinations?”

“Yes,” Reid nodded. “In all the victims, the symptoms began with confusion, then extreme paranoia and episodes of aggression.”

House leaned forward slightly, interested.

“How long did it take from the first symptom to death?”

“About a week.”

“Common substances in the body?”

“Nothing consistent with known poisons. No recreational drugs or heavy metal exposure either.”

House let out a low whistle.

“Wow, this is interesting.”

You watched the interaction in surprise. House rarely took anything seriously in the first few minutes of a conversation, and the fact that he was now listening intently to Reid meant he was genuinely impressed. Then again, it was easy to be impressed by anything that came out of Reid’s mouth.

House leaned back in his chair, turning his cane slightly in his hand. His gaze slid from Reid to you and back to the file.

“All right, genius boy, give me a diagnosis.”

Reid squared his shoulders with his characteristic seriousness.

“It could be an atypical variant of Creutzfeldt-Jakob syndrome. The abnormal accumulation of proteins in the limbic system and the degeneration of the substantia nigra could indicate an accelerated neurodegenerative disease.”

House shook his head almost immediately.

“There are no prions. There’s no evidence that it’s spongiform encephalopathy. Furthermore, Creutzfeldt-Jakob doesn’t kill in a week.”

“It could be a case of L-Dopa analogue poisoning, perhaps exposure to a compound derived from MPTP. That would explain the necrosis in the substantia nigra and the neurological symptoms.”

“If that were the case, I’d expect to see rigidity and bradykinesia, not extreme paranoia,” House countered. “And liver necrosis doesn’t fit.”

Reid frowned slightly, thoughtful.

“Paraneoplastic autoimmune encephalitis?”

House snorted.

“And where’s the tumor, Einstein? Did I leave it in my other pants?”

“Some tumors may be too small to be detected in their early stages, especially ovarian teratomas—”

“Oh, right, because I’m sure all the victims had ovaries,” House interrupted, his sarcasm evident.

Reid was unfazed.

“Autoimmune encephalitis may also be associated with thymomas or lung carcinomas.”

House tilted his head, assessing him with more interest than he cared to admit.

“How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty-eight.”

House gave a short laugh. There was something like approval on his face, as if you’d brought him a tribute and he was happy with it.

“Medical specialty?”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Cardiologist? Neurologist? No, wait—infectious disease specialist with a Sherlock Holmes complex?”

“I’m not a doctor,” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard him the first time.

House hated being treated like an idiot, and, to be honest, you were enjoying the situation a little.

He frowned, that signature expression of his, and looked at your colleague again. “Then what the hell are you doing diagnosing?”

“I have PhDs in Chemistry, Mathematics, and Engineering. Also, specializations in Psychology and Sociology.”

“So, no medical degree, but you’re still correcting me.”

“I don’t need an MD to understand pathology, neuroscience, or toxicology,” he muttered nonchalantly, as if it were just another ordinary conversation.

You already liked Reid a lot, and after solving the case, you would make sure to buy him a few drinks just for the simple pleasure of infuriating the most cynical human being in the world.

“Tell me the truth, does the Bureau pay you well?”

“Excuse me?”

“Because I could give you a job here. Then I could fire those three idiots I have under my command, and you’d be enough to keep this department running. You’re more efficient, and while somewhat annoying, your answers are more grounded than theirs.”

“Don’t even think about it. Get your own genius.”

“You’re finally talking! For a moment there, I thought you were going to let your boyfriend do all the work.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. There was no need to inconvenience the poor boy.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Wow, what a waste,” House said with mock pity before turning his attention back to Reid. “Okay, smart-ass, let’s do another brainstorm. Neurotoxins in the environment? Maybe a rare fungus, something that affects the central nervous system and causes necrosis in other organs?”

Reid shook his head almost instantly.

“If it were an environmental toxin, we should have found traces in lung tissue or blood. We did extensive testing, and there’s no evidence of chronic exposure.”

“Okay, how about mitochondrial disease? A rare genetic mutation that only manifests under certain environmental conditions?”

“Unlikely. The progression is too rapid for a classic mitochondrial disease, and there’s no evidence of prior systemic failure.”

House pressed his lips together in approval.

“You were right from the start. I love this case; it’s like an intellectual prostitute to me, and that doesn’t happen very often.”

Although the tasteless joke didn’t amuse you, you were reassured because he had agreed. The pre-arranged conversation was proof enough for you that the case would be resolved in the best possible way; after all, you had two geniuses standing in front of you.

You looked at Reid with a slight smile, grateful that he’d been so punctual with the details and had sparked House’s curiosity. He, as sweet as ever, returned the expression.

“Tell me something, do you always rub your fingertips together before you speak?”

Reid blinked, confused, as you frowned. It was obvious House wasn’t talking to you.

“Sorry?”

House waved a hand.

“You’ve done it three times since you came in. A repetitive pattern. Do you also avoid prolonged eye contact and feel uncomfortable with loud sounds?”

Now it was Reid who frowned. Before you could say anything, your companion spoke:

“Are you implying that I have autism?”

House shrugged.

“Asperger’s, specifically. Although that’s not used anymore because it’s not right to separate the functionally from the non-functionally mentally ill, right?” he laughed to himself. “And I’m not insinuating anything, I’m just observing what you’re doing.”

“I’m not autistic.”

House tilted his head, looking at him almost like an exotic animal.

“Maybe you should get tested.”

Just then, when you were about to point out House’s clear traits of Antisocial Personality Disorder and Narcissism, the door opened and someone else entered the office.

“House, could you stop torturing the interns for a moment? I need your help—”

The voice cut off as soon as the newcomer saw you, and your heart gave a treacherous leap.

James Wilson stood in the doorway, his white coat neatly buttoned, holding a pair of folders. His expression was calm and patient, as if he was already used to House’s games.

In your youth, you had a ridiculous crush on him, back when you had to do some internships at the hospital and had the misfortune of ending up supervising House. That’s when you met him.

Wilson was the kind of man who exuded kindness and confidence, with a sharp yet approachable intelligence. Not like House, who enjoyed making others feel stupid, or Reid, who was simply brilliant without even trying.

It wasn’t one of those extreme, idealized loves, but it was enough to have followed some of his medical lectures with fascination, impressed by his intelligence, his empathy, his way of explaining things clearly. You admired the person he was, how he always looked out for you and became your lawyer when House was getting too unbearable.

And now he was standing before you, after years of that old crush being left in the past… Or at least, that’s what you thought.

Because the moment he said your name, your mind seemed to forget how to coordinate words.

“It’s been a long time! I heard you’re working for the FBI now, right?” he politely approached, and you jumped to your feet to take the hand he was offering. “Congratulations! I always knew you’d go far.”

“Huh, thanks, Doctor,” you murmured shyly. The others present could notice the change in your voice, your posture, even your expression.

“Oh, just call me Wilson. Otherwise, you make me feel like you’re my patient.”

“Then thank you, Wilson. How nice to see you again.”

The smile he gave you made you blush, and you unconsciously brought a hand to your hair, tucking it behind your ear. House, never one to miss a juicy opportunity, narrowed his eyes and then smiled wickedly.

“Oh, this is glorious.”

Wilson looked at him, confused.

“Did I miss something?”

“Yes, dear. Turns out you have a secret admirer,” House said, pointing at you with his cane. “How did I not notice this before?

You felt the heat rise up your neck to your face. Spencer, who had remained silent, watching the interaction, now looked at you with something close to surprise.

“House, what the hell are you talking about now?”

“She! Look at her when you arrived. She was insulting me a second before, and as soon as she saw you, she turned into a lovesick schoolgirl.”

“It’s called kindness. It’s hard to practice it with you because you tend to be a jerk who makes me insult you every chance I get.”

Your attempt to divert the subject was useless because, once House got something stuck in his head, it was hard for him to let it go.

“You know, I always hoped you’d like older men and thought I was the ideal candidate, but I see you already had someone else in mind.”

“Did you like Dr. Wilson?”

“No! I mean, I… I liked him, but not in that way. Besides, it’s irrelevant!” you exclaimed, annoyed by Reid’s sudden indiscretion. Sometimes he spoke without thinking.

House smiled with delight.

“Oh, that’s completely relevant. In fact, I think your medical case can wait. This is much more interesting.”

Wilson sighed in resignation and looked at his friend, deciding it was time to intervene.

“House, will you stop bothering her? It’s not her fault that no one wants to treat you with human decency because of your behavior.”

You avoided looking at Wilson at all costs. You knew that as soon as your eyes met his, you’d blush, and that would only give House more reason to be a nuisance.

“For God’s sake, can we talk about the case again?”

House let out a laugh you never, ever imagined coming from him. He was ecstatic about what was happening, completely amused.

“Don’t you want Reid to know that his coworker had romantic dreams about the most smarmy oncologist in the hospital?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, a study from the University at Albany found that nearly a third of young women report having been attracted to authority figures like teachers, doctors, or supervisors at some point. It’s a well-documented phenomenon linked to perceptions of competence, security, and emotional maturity—”

“Reid,” you hissed. You swore you could die of embarrassment any second. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

House ignored the comments and leaned toward you.

“Tell me the truth, did you dream of being diagnosed with a terminal illness just so you could spend more time with him?”

“House,” Wilson exclaimed, his tone now stern. There was a second of silence before he continued, “Don’t bother her. Just admit that you’re trying to humiliate her because you’re jealous that your pretty assistant had a crush on me instead of you.”

You immediately raised your head, staring at him directly. There was amusement on his face, and you tried not to burst out laughing—not knowing if you were doing it out of embarrassment, to deny the accusations, or out of genuine amusement.

House looked offended, and even Spencer held back a chuckle. He didn’t want to make fun of you because you were his friend, and there were feelings involved, at least on his part, but he found it endearing to see you so flustered by the situation. Besides, it was hilarious to think of a young woman’s pupils dilating in the oncologist’s presence. He hadn’t pictured you as that kind of person.

“I’m Spencer Reid, by the way. I haven’t introduced myself.”

Your partner’s unwelcome intrusion, in an attempt to lighten the tension, made Wilson burst out laughing.

“James Wilson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You knew he was truly committed to protecting what little dignity you had left when he shook Reid’s hand—because you knew how terrified he was of physical contact with strangers.

When you looked at House, waiting for him to offer you a truce, he waggled his eyebrows up and down, like a provocative little boy. No one was surprised when you gave him the middle finger.

“Are you going to help us or not?”

House tilted his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Hmm, I will. Only because now you’ll owe me a favor, and since I know about Wilson, I doubt you’ll refuse to do it.”

Wilson sighed.

“You’re hopeless.”

“You know me well. What did you want to ask me, by the way? Everyone seems to need me these days.”

“Nothing urgent, I can wait,” he murmured. Then he looked at you. “Unlike House, I do have work to do in my department, so I’m leaving. It’s nice to see you again. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Same here. Although I hope we don’t have to call on each other’s services anytime soon.”

He laughed at your joke. Almost as if he wanted to test your limits, he leaned closer and, in addition to shaking your hand, planted a goodbye kiss on your cheek.

House (surprisingly) had the good sense to wait until his friend left the office before he started making exaggerated kissing noises—completely childish, if they asked you.

That was the final straw. You grabbed a tennis ball lying around and threw it straight at his chest: a ruthless and deliberate shot.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone teach you not to hit cripples?”

“And be thankful it wasn’t in the leg,” you exclaimed disdainfully. “Now move your handicapped ass outside. We need to go, and I’ll drag you to the car if necessary.”

“Now I see why you’re not her boyfriend,” he muttered as he stood up, rolling his eyes in Reid’s direction. “She’s just as crazy as my boss, and no one sleeps with that woman.”

You maintained your composure until he limped out the door, clearly pleased with the mess he had made. Once you were alone, Spencer cautiously approached you, testing the waters to avoid triggering your anger.

“That was… interesting.”

“Reid, I swear if you tell the team, not even all the love I have for you will stop me from punching you in the face. And it would be a shame to ruin your best attribute.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me. I was just an unfortunate listener in this mess.”

“I’m serious.”

“Understood, ma’am,” he said slightly mockingly, raising both hands in a show of sincerity. The two of you then headed for the exit, following House.

There was silence for a stretch of the hallway until, just before reaching the elevator, he decided to speak again.

“But you did like him?”

God knows how you looked at him to make him laugh nervously, half amused and half worried.

“Don’t tempt me, Reid.”

“It was just a question!” he murmured innocently. The elevator doors closed in front of you once you stood next to the man with the cane. “Though, to be honest, I wouldn’t blame him if he had feelings for you. You’re so smart and pretty, it would be silly not to.”

You looked back at him, but this time there was a certain surprise and delight in your expression. Spencer, afraid of your answer, just stared at you with those huge doe eyes.

“Shut up, please,” you laughed.

With that, you leaned against him, defeated, and he allowed himself to give you a sweet hug as if he wanted to console you for the painful scene you had just experienced.

The rest of the case wasn’t any easier to deal with House, but at least you had the company of your own genius to make it more bearable.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid imagine #house md #dr house #gregory house #james wilson #hugh laurie #robert sean leonard #james wilson x reader

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rhadamanthes · 1 month ago

Text

PR nightmare. Eren x reader

warnings: rockstar!eren, reader has curly hair, reader has a child, use of y/n, mommy kink, lactation, cheating, handjob, nipple play, cowgirl, fingering, eren is a crybaby, eren is whipped, jealousy, slight age gap (reader is 28 Eren is 23) kind of co dependency but not really... only on Eren side unhealthy relationships I guess ? lol.

author's note : I never had a child nor I plan to so there may have some inaccuracy about the way reader's body is recovering but for the sake of this fiction let's just pretend. part two is now up !!

word count : 8,6k

It's your first day at work since you gave birth to your babygirl. You are anxious about seeing your colleagues again. What if they think you should lose some baby fat ? look too tired ? Are too eager to leave your family to be here ? All of these questions make your stomach churn.

But most of all you are anxious about seeing him again. You're Eren Yeager's manager. The famous rockstar could have any of the best agents in the world, yet he decided to stick with you since his early days. You are glad he does, as he is now your main source of income. After an extended period of time without seeing you he always gives you the cold shoulder just like a cat.

Eren has sent flowers to congratulate you but you haven't seen him in person for four month now. Stepping in the skyscraper you swipe your badge on the portico making your way to the elevators. The agency you work for has rented two floors: the 13th as a photo studio and the 16th as offices with all the managers for the different talents the company englobes.

Today Eren is shooting covers for his upcoming album so 13th floor it is. Nervously pulling at your cuticles, the door opens on the familiar white walls of the studio, the staff is running around, making them look like ants from your point of view, you giggle at the thought, making your way to the spot where the cameras and the background is set. Dark colours as always, Eren's universe is particular but if fit him well.

"Oh my god you're back!" Isabel exclaims, she's part of the junior team. Her hands are wrapped around a box, containing swords, american fists and other weapons. What the hell does Eren have in mind this time?

"Yes it's my first day back" the two of you make small talk before her presence is requested somewhere else.

The scenery he's chosen is stairs leading to a rusty iron throne. You bite your thumb, the reference is easily understandable, you make a mental note to ask the legal team if you could get in any type of trouble for that.

"Ah, y/n what a pleasure to see you again" Daris Zackley, the artistic director shakes your hand with his usual strong grip. As always, conversations with him are one sided, he talks and you try to find a new sound of approval you haven't already used. He fills you in with what happened for the last few months, most of it you already know :keeping in check with a rockstar's every move is indeed an easy task even on your hospital bed.

"Where is Eren ?" you interrupt, you've been there for almost half an hour now and not a single one of his dark locks you've seen.

"Running late as always but I told him 10:00 is my last limit we're packing up if he doesn't show up in 3 minutes" he precises checking his watch.

" I was at hair and make up Genius Zackley" a deep voice reaches your ears. Well at least you know the shoot is not getting canceled. Turning around to face Eren you can't help but smile at his pun. Eren is wearing nothing but a white linen sheet low on his waist, spartan sandals on his feet and hair fully down. The only thing missing is a laurel crown so he can go full Cesar on his throne, suits him well though.

"And who are you ?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. There it is the cat letting his owner know that it's absence was very rude. You roll your eyes at his comment.

"The new intern, now please get in position before your team leaves" It's his turn to roll his eyes now, turning his back on you as he ascends slowly the stairs up his rightful seat. You understand now why he chose such a dark environment, it makes his tan skin and light clothes pop out. You only notice now that there isn't one single of his chest tattoos on display, probably the reason why the makeup took so much time.

A good call as always, Eren knows what makes him look good, what to accentuate on his body and features to make him irresistible, the tight golden bracelets around his biceps and thigh are the proof. Sometimes you wish he's also known how to behave but it would quite make your job inexistant: you've lost count on how many public statements you had to make on his behalf, the number bribes you had to give paparazzis so compromising photos wouldn't air out in the open.

Laying on his throne he tries all different types of positions, keeping his face impassible. When he looks your way you give him a thumbs up and he rolls his eyes, again. His act is starting to get on your nerves, the initial joke was fun but now he is just acting like a petulant child. An extra that you recognize as Mina Carolina, joins Eren on the throne, she's wearing a similar toge, the collar dripping down with fake blood. They are reenacting La Piéta, your fingers come to your temple, massaging them in circular motions. You are going to be really busy for the next few weeks.

"What's the plan for lunch" you ask once Eren is changed into casual attire. The photoshoot extended past mid day break, the star of the show not being totally satisfied with how the photos turned out.

"I'm having lunch with Mina you can have lunch with whoever you want." he states not even looking at you while he ruffles in his bag.

"Eren" you snap, your tone makes him look up immediately. "You're having lunch with me Mina will have you whenever during the week. He opens his mouth to no doubt get on your nerves some more but the sharp stare you give him seems to change his mind.

"Fine" he utters, smiling at you for the first time today.

After a silent commute to one of the regular restaurants you enjoy around the office ,you are sitting on a plush bench. Eren is right next to you, With the way he acted toward you this morning you would think he'd put the maximum distance between the two of you, but no, his thigh is flush against yours and he's completely ignoring the menu resting in front of him, instead hovering over yours to choose his dish. Is it a new trick of his or did he really missed you that much ?

"So how is life at three now ? " he asks, face resting on his palm as he looks down at you.

"Pretty much the same i mean plus the diapers, the crying in the middle of the night, the milk and the stroller" Both of you chortle and Eren takes a sip of his water.

"Well you're not exactly selling dreams here you know ?" you nod picking at the bread basket.

"What about you ? New album coming soon ? "You know the answer, you just want to hear him say it.

"Yup, I had sleepless nights too but it's all good, when we get back I'll make you listen to some tracks yeah ? " You nod all smiles and your plates arrive.

Entering the building again you can feel Eren's attitude shifting, he's walking miles in front of you, not looking back a single time. You're not going after him, taking your sweet time going up the stairs as he waits for the elevator. Whatever game he's playing he'll get tired of it first. After all, you are bound to work with him anyway.

And he does, next morning bursting in your office.

"You didn't even ask to listen to my music, some manager you are" he grumbles, depositing a fuming coffee on your desk with a bagel.

"I already had my cup you can give this to someone else" you state eyes never leaving your monitor as you catch up on your emails.

A beat of silence fills the room except for the soft tune of your mechanical keyboard.

"Are you being serious right now ?" voice of the angry Eren you recognize, but you still don't acknowledge him.

"I have a lot to do, our schedule is pretty packed so please if there is nothing else" you gesture vaguely to the door.

The sound of his footsteps receding makes you smile, the door slams behind him, through the glass doors you see him storm off god knows where.

Your office is at the end of a corridor where pictures of Eren and yourself, his gold record adorn the walls, you started in the bullpen like everyone else, but after many successful achievements you moved to your personal office.

Everytime you walk up this alley it reminds you that you've been with him since his first day even before the two of you joined the agency. Your old apartment used to be filled to the brim with paperwork, cd's and gift the early days fan would send him, sometimes you are nostalgic of theses days, just the two of you, canvassing all the clubs and bars of the city to get a scene, now they pull at your feet, or rater your phone to get him on their stage.

Currently, different club owners are listing the advantages to get Eren's album release party in their establishment. Not a single one has convinced you yet, they are all pompous and pretentious. Eren has made a name for himself in the music industry, he doesn't have anything else to prove.

But you wish to find him something simpler, more like him. Plus the last time he was invited to a club he ended up in a fight, you would hate that kind of publicity for his new album, other managers would probably think that all kinds of publicity is good publicity but you are rather protective of him.

The criticism he receives about his music you couldn't care less, you either like it or you don't. But when it comes to his personality, you hate seeing every random person on the internet giving their two pieces of advice about him, you know him, the real him, so the critics hurt as if they were directed toward you.

All of these thoughts swim in your head, twirling the cord of your desk phone, as the man whose name you forgot keeps rambling in your ear. The door of your office files open, snapping you back to reality. Your eyes send daggers to whoever entered without permission, but they soften once you realise it is Eren.

You gesture to the phone, for him to keep quiet, his long legs close the distance between you two as he falls to his knees, face planting in your lap. Eren large shoulders start to shake and soon enough you feel hot tears piercing through the tissue of your dress where his head lay.

Oh, your heart clenches in your chest. Instinctively you start combing his long hair, quickly dismissing the man on the other side of the phone to focus on Eren.

"Hey, what happened, what's wrong Eren ? Tell me" your voice is soft, similar to the one you use talking to your newborn child. The sobs quietly come to an end , you place your hands on the side of his head to look him in his eyes but he resists. Eren was always very private about his feelings, especially the ones he thinks make him look weak.

"Did something happen with the others ?" you ask, resuming the combing motion through his dark locks. His head shakes slightly from left to right. "Then talk to me please. I'm getting worried there."

"I'm sorry" is all he says, it's muffled, faint, inaudible if it wasn't for the silence of the room. You don't even need to ask why he is sorry, you already know. A tiny smile is growing on your face, this time you leave him no choice but to look at you, lifting his head up forcefully.

"You don't have to apologize about anything, hm ? It's ok Eren" you reassure him as you wipe the trails of tears from under his beautiful emerald eyes with your thumbs. His brows are furrowed, eyes slightly red and lips pursed in a soft pout. He looks good like that, your smile grows slightly again.

"Why are you laughing?" he sniffled.

"Would you rather have me crying with you ?" you giggle, deposing a soft kiss on his forehead, standing on your feet, you pulling him up with you. He is towering over you from a good twenty centimeters. "Come here" you lock him in a tight hug, arms around his mid back. His body relaxes into yours and he lets out a long sigh. "I missed you, I don't want you to leave me again" he whispered, squeezing the air out of you.

You are glad to finally work things out with him, but the way he has you pressed against him makes you painfully aware that you are not fully recovered from your pregnancy. Your breasts are pressed against his hard chest. "Eren, Eren" you squirm tapping his back. He breaks the contact with a worried expression on his face.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, sounding panicked, holding your shoulders in his hands. "No, no just" you look down at your bust and see two darked stains on the level of your breasts, so much for not wearing a bra today. "Is that blood" he whispers-yells approaching his face from your tits. "No! It's milk, silly" you push his head off, looking down at the mess on the upper part of the dress. From the corner of your eyes you can see him fixing his pants. There is no way he's turned on by that.

"Eren! Ew! Get out! " You tone, pushing him to the exit as he giggles. "If you need help just call me" he laughs, kissing your cheek. You roll your eyes at his behavior but smile nonetheless.

You always keep spare clothes in your office, having learned that they always come in handy after too many drinks at late night office parties. As you button up the navy linen shirt, you can't help but feel ashamed about Eren seeing you like that, he took it as a joke of course, there are not a lot of things he takes seriously except for his art.

Your life will never be the same while he keeps fulfilling his lifelong dream of becoming a rockstar. Tears pool in your eyes, it's your turn to cry now.

Days after days you slowly fall back into your routine as Eren's manager, accompanying him to events and interviews to make sure he stays in line or reveal too much about his upcoming comeback... But most of the time you are here, at the office, l upon exiting the elevator a conversation catches your ear.

"He'll be the face of Y.fragrances that's like such a good deal he can probably get any girl he wants after that" you hear Floch Forester boast to one of his colleagues with a voice as annoying as his face.

"Did you just say Y. fragrances ? " You inquired, approaching his desk, his Adam apple bobbed up his throat and he nodded "The deal is for Eren ?" another nod. "Scratch that deal immediately" your tone is cold, him and petra ral was the tandem that replaced you during your leave obviously that haven't been doing a good job.

"What are you talking about ? this is good for him and all of the company" he laughed nervously looking at his colleague for help.

"If you knew how to do your job properly you would know that Y.fragrances is a branch of Y.pharma owned by Grisha Yeager, that name rings a bell to you ? That's Eren's father which he hasn't spoken to in years. This is just another one of his schemes to get a hold on his son, So scratch that deal right now or Eren will fire you himself."

Floch's face pales as you speak, frozen in place like you just turned him into stone, you quirk an eyebrow and he reaches for his phone at the speed of light. Turning your heels you walk toward your own office. What a shitty way to start the day you grumbles, heels hitting repeatedly the faux wooden floor.

"That was pretty impressive" a familiar voice you recognize as Eren's trail behind you. "There is no way you didn't know about this, Eren, what are you doing?" you grumble, not taking the time to look at him. "I wanted him gone, the guy is an asshole, but nothing gets past the best agent in the world so you saved his ass"

You roll your eyes stepping in your carpeted floor office. "This could have been a real mess Eren, it is serious." you turn around and he is right in front of you, almost stepping on your toes. "Are you mad at me ?" he asks, kissing your cheeks, this is usually how he greets you in the morning. "No, but next time run it by me first ?" you take the cup of coffee from his hands, drinking the sugary mixture from the cap, he nodded at you, all goofy grin on his face.

"Anyways we have a busy day today : Zackley got the results of the shoot for your cover Pixis want to see them too so we have to be in the red meeting room in ten, this afternoon you have fittings for the fashion week and we'll also see if we can borrow something for your party" you give him back his cup at the end of your rant. "Sounds good ?"

"You're the boss" he shrugs, positioning his mouth on the lipstick stain you left in your wake, eyes never leaving yours. What a tease.

It is a rare occurrence that the CEO shows up to validate any visuals so when Pixis enter the room, everybody goes quiet.

"Y/N, a delight to have you back among us" his deep voice starts, as he squeezes your hand. You greet him back shyly and Eren laughs next to you. Of course he does, but it's not like you can dap up a sixty something year old man or greet him with the familiarity you do with Eren.

The meeting goes well, the cover is provoking, the religious imagery he copied, the game of thrones reference but somehow everyone agrees that it fits Eren's persona well.

"Armin and Mika are in town, cool if I grab lunch with them ? " Eren asks once you are both out of the room. "Sure, just remember we have to be at 2:00 at the showroom." Promising he'll be there on time Eren struts to the elevators.

When you enter your office again you're met with the deep voice of your partner, Erwin Smith, he's holding your little girl and your heart immediately melts.

"Surprise." he says, a tired smile adorning his angular features. Rushing to the sofa you depose a million kisses on his lips, patting gently the top of your newborn hair.

"My babies" you squeal once you're sat next to them. Erwin transfers the baby from his arm to yours and she stirs a little before falling back asleep. Catching up with your lover you almost forget that you are at work, until it is feeding time, naturally you undress your chest when Erwin jolts standing up to close the blinds that are facing the corridor, the sofa is in a blind spot but you appreciate his attention anyway. The milk flows from your breasts to her mouth and you are able to relax.

Your breasts are significantly heavier with all the milk you're carrying these days so this is a welcomed relief. You lay your head on Erwin's shoulder, feeling yourself getting slowly dragged to sleep. The door opens suddenly, dragging you back to reality, your eyes are wide open.

"Eren!" you scold, you're a bit reassured that it's only him but still.

"You could have knocked, surely the closed blinds and doors were not enough to let you know she was busy" Erwin states in a sarcastic tone.

"I didn't know we had visitors" Eren shrugs, sitting on the empty side of the couch flushed next to you. The proximity makes you realise that your breast is out. It takes a bit of manoeuver to swap the baby in her father's arm and button up your shirt all while preserving the little of dignity you have left, but you manage.

"So... what's the name of the baby?" Eren asks, isolating the last word like it's a slur. You snortle looking at him. "Lily, you want to hold her ?" you ask, knowing that he hasn't a paternal bone in his body, if anything he's the one that needs to be held.

"Hard pass," he grumbled looking elsewhere. "We probably need to leave soon" Crap, you almost forgot about the fitting. You quickly check your watch and indeed you need to leave now or else you'll mess with everyone's schedule.

"Baby, I need to go, but I should be home early tonight" You turn back to Erwin, cradling his face in your hand.

"Don't worry" he kisses your forehead softly. "Wait, you didn't eat anything, I didn't mean to hog you during your break" he speaks with a concerned face.

Standing up you smooth the material of your pants. "That's fine I'll pick something on the way" You hold your hand out to him so he can stand as well. The warmth of his palm makes you giddy and you turn your attention to Eren. He is still sitting on the couch, arms crossed and an empty stare. "Let's go ?"

The ride in the elevator to the ground floor is deadly silent, Erwin looks amused, Eren looks ready to slit his own wrist. Parting ways with your family, you kiss Erwin and Lily one last time while Eren calls an uber. The Mercedes class A pulls up to the curb, the door is opened for as you take your seat behind the driver's. Surprisingly Eren is stacked against you once again, with the way he's been silent for the last couple of minutes you would think that he'd choose the farthest option. Ain't he just full of surprises

He is sitting sideways, caging you against the window. A slender finger of his picks up your curls and twirls them around, all of his attention is on you as you scroll your social media mindlessly, when the car is set in action you have to remind him to buckle his seatbelt.

"Has he ever tasted your milk ?" The question makes your eyebrows shoot in surprise. You turn to him "Can we not discuss this now ?" you glance at the driver in the rearview mirror. "Would you prefer to be at the showroom in front of everyone ?" "Actually that's my personal life so I don't owe you anything" Your tone is harsh but you can' t believe he has the audacity to demand this from you.

The mood has been set for the rest of the day, professional interaction only, he tries the different look the stylist has prepared ,you give your advice and validate them. No banter, no funny pictures like you always do. His gaze lingers on you from time to time and it is enough to make you feel bad as you eat the driest sandwich ever, in an empty corner of the room.There is something about giving him the cold shoulder that always makes you feel guilty. Eren never means ill, not to you at least. So you make the first step to reconciliation with him.

"Hey, want to share a cab back home ?" you ask, searching for his eyes but he's only looking at his shoes, fixing his leather jacket. "I don't want to bother you" he simply answered, voice barely above a whisper, your heart sank to your socks. "Eren, I didn't mean to lash out on you earlier" you start, grabbing his hand. "It just wasn't the right time, ok ?" His emerald orbs meet yours and you swear they're more glassy than usual. "Yeah ok, let's just walk for a bit" you nod and the both of you make your way out of the building.

The first minutes are walked in complete silence. You try to find the right moment to break the ice but you don't know what to say, you don't know how he will react. Ever since you came back you feel like you haven't done a single right thing with Eren, making him cry, making him upset, what if you two are not compatible anymore ?

"I'm sorry about earlier, I know I may have crossed a boundary, but I don't know how to act when I see you with him, for the longest time it was just us" A weight is thrown off your shoulder but also his words are sinking in your core ; us ? You and Eren are undoubtedly a duo. It has been ever since he was 18 and you were 23, the age he is now.

"I know" you say, bumping his biceps with your shoulders, a smile forming on your lips as you reminisce about the last years.

You've met him through Zeke, a college friend of yours. Diploma in hands, him as a literature major, you as a communication major, he had no issues finding a job, you on the other hand should have known that this sector was saturated. Months and months with no proper job offer, or decent one that takes into account your hard years of studying and the salary that goes with it. But beggars can't be choosers, you ended up as a barmaid to make ends meet.

As the good friend he is, Zeke reached out to you when his punk little brother (his words not yours) dropped out of school to pursue his dream of being an artist. He needed contacts and someone to tell him wrong from right: everything a eighteen years old boy lacks. Of course you helped him, After all there is a reason you decided to major in this domain.

Selfishly when he started to become a local attraction you wanted to keep him to yourself but the opportunities were soaring for you two, soon enough you were able to quit your job to focus mainly on Eren's career. It is safe to say that you spent the most of the last five years stuck to him.

"Do you remember my apartment on Salisbury Street ? I was thinking of renting it for the launching party " he chortles looking at you with curious eyes.

"That shoebox ? It can barely fit the whole team. What about guests"

"Never stopped us before " you reply with a knowing smirk, he's looking at you with the same expression.

"I like the idea" comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, as you glide down the streets, sun slowly setting behind the skyscraper. Still you can't shake the need to address one more issue

"He's never tried it" it's an half word confession but you can't bring yourself to spell it out. Regardless, Eren seems to understand perfectly well what you mean.

"The guy is a pussy, if you were my girlfriend we would be making cheese out of it"

"You're so gross" a laugh bubble up your throat

"No but really, I want to taste it, think about it, there will be no doubt about who's in charge then"

You glare at him sideway "There never was a doubt about who is in control here"

"Right you're so bossy. Is it why Erwin is at home with your bald ass baby while you are out earning the keep ?" you push his shoulders at his stupid comments

"Erwin is working from home, Levi helps him around the house, and you are probably jealous of Lily because she rocks the buzzcut better than you do" Eren had so many hair phases in life, bald, undercut, bleached, colored. These days his hair is long, almost grazing his shoulders blades, all natural color from roots to ends. The reminiscence of his previous hairstyle makes him cringe.

"Wait, did you say Levi ? You're telling me that these two spend their days together taking care of your baby while you are out with me ? Good thing it's the month of June you are one hell of an ally."

"Right, it's not like you have several gay allegations yourself within your friends group. Who was it with again ? Armin, Reiner, Jean" You're about to list some more when his large palm covers your mouth.

"That's different, I'm famous so that's how I know I actually made it" You roll your eyes not very convinced with his reasoning, but there is this river in Egypt...

Of course you are aware of the rumors surrounding your partner and his... janitor ? friend ? You wouldn't even know how to describe it. Levi has been in Erwin's life long before you and he will be long after. All in all you don't really care that much about it. Erwin is good to you and your daughter. Levin makes your life easier and is caring despite his icy personality. Sometimes you are caught between their longing stares, almost feeling left out.

"Let's call a cab" you offer to conclude this odd day.

Another day, another task to tend to. The "back to basics" idea for the release party was approved by Pixis and Zachley; you are able to rent your old appartement for the occasion. To you and Eren it used to be a recording studio, hotel, showroom, office and so much more. You want to conserve the vibe it used to hold but also make it more practical with all the transit that there will be that night. Sitting on the couch of your office you try different layouts on your Ipad when a knock echoes in the room.

"Come in" You lift your eyes to meet no other than Eren, since when does he knock on the door ? As if he heard your question he clears his throat. "With yesterday's incident I figured I might pick up good habits" Well, that is a pleasant surprise, never too late to be a good boy you shrug, refocusing your attention on your screen.

"What are you doing here anyway ? It's a day off for you" No answer comes from his part and you feel the couch dipping next to you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, his body curled up against you, back facing the door.

" I wanted to see you and Porco is the biggest douchebag ever" You shoulder shakes with a soft laughter, right Eren is not the best at getting along with the fellow artist signed at this agency Porco harbour about the same temper as Eren so you can see how that cause a problem.

"Tell me more about it" you hum softly caressing his hair. Eren mirrors you, softly tugging at your curls to make them bounce.

As Eren rambles on, he keeps his head in your neck, lips grazing the tender skin with each word, deep voice reverberating directly against it. Goosebumps are rising all over your skin and you can't say that you know what he is talking about, you are distracted. When his lips press fully against your neck you yank his hair hard, giving him a stern look.

"Let me taste you" his green eyes are boring into yours pleading to finally indulge him. Intimacy has always been a good way to unwind for you and with everything coming up you could use the stress relief. If you both want it, what's the harm in that?

"Lock the door and close the blinds" you murmur letting go of his hair but he doesn't move "Unless you changed your mind" Scrambling to stand up he almost trip over his feet with what you only can guess is excitement. His eagerness makes you chuckle, you sit up on the couch, setting the Ipad away. Nothing is going to distract you from this moment.

Making a quick work of the doors Eren comes back rushing to the sofa, while you unbutton your blouse. "No, no let me do it" he pin your hands to your side, fiddling with the buttons himself instead. He is kneeling on the plush cushion of the sofa, so close to you.

"You are practically panting" you remark, teasing his abs through his shirt.

"I'm so excited," he smiles, kissing your lips roughly.

Once your breasts are out in the open Eren scoop them up in his hands, groaning when they are pressed against each other. "Look at you, so perfect" the smallest droplets of milk spritz out under the pressure. The sight makes Eren moan, as he attaches his lips to your left breast, aspiring the teat into his warm mouth, drawing the precious liquid from your body, the one substance he has been dreaming about for the last few weeks.

Better than any drugs he's ever tried : his expectations have been met, moaning every second sending vibration through your bust.

"Does it taste good baby? You like it ?" you taunt, letting your nails rake against his skull.

"You're a goddess, it's so fucking good" he grunt before resuming his previous acitvity, eyes closed. It's like he is making out with your tit, tongue swirling and lapping at your sensitive nipple.The wet suction sounds fill the room and you stick your thigh together. Feeling yourself getting more aroused by the second.

You didn't know it would affect you that much, but damn,seeing how a simple body fluid has him acting drives you crazy, you allow small moans of content to escape your lips. Once he has his fill Eren cup your cheeks, giving them a languorous kiss allowing your own taste on your tongue, it's sweeter than you expected.

"Do you like it mommy ?" If it wasn't for your lust clouded brain you would have cringed at the nickname but right now you couldn't care less, biting your lips as you nod.

"How about that one ?" you inquire pushing the fabric of your unattended breast. Eren moans, wasting no time to give it the same treatment as the other, he is splayed across your lap, strong arms locked behind your back. You feel his hardness against your thigh. There is no way he can cross the open space like that, so you take matter in your hand, literally.

You have never seen his cock before so when you fish the hard length from his trousers your mouth falls in an o shape. The boy has reasons to be cocky. Spitting in your hands, you apply slow stroking motion on his penis. He immediately starts to fuck your hand and you smile how greedy can one be ?

"Let me touch you please, let me make you feel good mommy" you nod quickly, swallowing your spit, as you do so Eren's fingers have already snaked their way to your wet core. Making a quick work of your panties you feel the tip of his digit tracing circle on your clitoris, mimicking the ones he applies on your nipple. You haven't indulged in sexual intercourse since the birth of your daughter solitary or with Erwin so this feels like an electrochoc, your eyes close shut and a curse slips your lips.

Your hips buck on their own and your grip on his cock intensifies. Eren and yourself are both desperate as each other, chasing your high using the other's body.

"Be a good boy, make me cum please, I'm close Eren" you know this will motivate him to bring you to your edge, and it does, accelerating his movement as he groans in the fat of your breast with muffled whispers of "mommy" mixed with your name. You want him to come at the same time as you so you focus on his tip, swiping your thumb over his slit over and over again.

The room sounds like a mess when you both finally cum. You're panting, Eren is moaning, you can only hope that no one walks past your office right now. His hot semen covers your digits and you lazily bring it to your mouth to have a taste, not as sweet as your milk, but you'll take it, licking clean any remnant on your skin.

His head is resting on your lap, as he kisses your belly through the buttoned part of your blouse.

"Was it good for you ?" he murmurs, looking at you through his dark hair. You nod as a smile crosses your face, you push his hair back. "Yes Eren, thank you" A proud smile is displayed on his face as he closes his eyes once more, rubbing his face in your covered stomach.

It's Friday evening, and finally the week comes to an end. You have staged the apartment for Eren's upcoming listening party, it is perfect. You curated the place to be a perfect mix of his past and present self, it's more of an intimate gathering than a big launching. It will sure stir up the curiosity of the press and fans so might be good on all sides

You haven't seen Eren since your... steamy intercourse, he is off until the next week. The aftermath of your act is unsure yet, he left with a spring in his step and a dopey grin. He wanted to spend the rest of the day with you and had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. You took it as a post orgasm bliss, only wishing that he won't be acting that way toward you in public now that you finally indulged him.

Getting home to your partner and child that day was jarring, a part of you was excited about keeping such a dirty secret but it also made you feel like shit. You cried that night and Erwin held you close to his chest, soothing you, telling you that everything was going to be ok. There is something about being in his arms that instantly calms you, he is so much bigger than you, and always warm.

You didn't tell him the reasons behind your tears but he was as supportive as always. You had rocky days during your pregnancy so he's not a stranger to your random outburst of emotion and you are grateful he doesn't judge you for it.

One thing you don't miss about pregnancy other than the swollen ankles, shitty sleep positions, back pain and nausea, is the alcohol prohibition. You are currently relaxing on your sofa, a nice glass of white wine in your hand while you watch the latest episodes of love island. The doorbell rings and you adjust your silk robe before making your way to the door. It must be the Thai food you ordered.

You don't have the time to greet the courier that he's already bursting into your apartment. You are ready to scream when you recognize the emerald eyes that have been haunting you for quite some time now.

"What the fuck is wrong with you seriously" you barely can contain the anger in your tone, kicking his calf with your bare feet.

Eren mumbles something you can't hear as he takes off his shoes and jacket. He is avoiding eye contact with you at all cost, you recognize this behavior. The same he used when he shaved his hair without telling anyone two days before his first ever billboard appearance, the same he used when he got caught with his ex again after publicly painting them as a bad person.

Just what has he done this time? You close your eyes resting all of your weight on the front door. Here goes your peaceful weekend.

"Eren ? What is going on" you tone is calm, he has a habit of getting defensive when feeling cornered.

"Nothing, just wanted to see you" you almost believe him but he is fidgety, too much to be normal. You close the distance forcing him to look at you.

"Speak"

" I have told Armin and Mika about us" Your whole body freezes at his words, you're speechless, soullessly staring at him. Large hands come to your shoulder shaking lightly as he calls your name. Freeing yourself from his grasp you walk to the couch slopping on it. His words swim in your head on repeat. His bestfriends know about this, they're far from gossip kind people, but the more people know the more at risk you are.

"Are you mad at me ?" he's sitting right next to you and you haven't even noticed.

"You told your friends that I cheated on my partner Eren, sorry if I'm not smiling ear to ear right now" you deadpan, downing your wine glass in two greedy sips. These words seem to have awakened something in him as he whispers his next sentence.

"Shit is Erwin here ?" You shake your head left to right. "He's at his dad's with Lily and Levi. I'm joining them tomorrow." Right, it's the first time your father in law is meeting your baby girl and here you are with the men you cheated on his son with, way to go. "Why the hell did you do that?" you ask incredulously.

"They've known about how I feel for years, I was so happy the other day it slipped my lips"

"About how you feel ?" you question, filling your glass again.

"Yeah, I love you" he answers easily, kissing your cheek. You snortle, once the bottle is empty, setting it on the ground. "No, you don't"

"Yes I do" he sounds angrier, gripping your shoulders for you to face him "I have been in love with you since I was eighteen and I don't plan on stopping" His revelation makes you all giddy inside but you can't show him.

"It is normal for you to feel attached to me, we spend an awful lot of time together Eren, but it is not love" you explain, petting his cheek tenderly. His brows furrowed and he scouts closer to you.

"I'm not a child, I know what I feel, I'm in love with you can't you see it ?"

"Would you be saying this if we didn't have sex the other day ?" you regret your words the moment they echoe in the room. He looks like a kicked puppy and you're the one who gave the blow.

"I love you because you care about me in a way no one did before, you understand me and I thought i did too." he gets up and before he can move you catch his wrist, he's wearing the watch you have offered him after he won his first award. He could be wearing any of the expensive watches that were gifted to him by the brands he works with, yet he chose the small discreet one you picked for him. You gulp, guilt sinking slowly but surely in your bones.

"Do you remember when you slipped encouragement notes between the cue cards for that stupid vanity fair video or whatever ? That is one of the reasons I fell in love with you, not because of the other day" You tug at his wrist so he can face you again.

"I'm sorry Eren, I didn't mean to say that. It's just a lot for me to take in, can you understand baby ?" The nickname softens him and he hugs you.

-Crisis averted- your manager brain can't help but chant in your head. You shut it down rapidly, as the situation sinks in. Are you in love with Eren ? Probably not if you're asking yourself this question, you need to clear out this situation.

Pushing his body away from yours you kiss him. A real kiss one where you take the time to taste each part of his mouth, tongue dancing around each other and bodies impossibly closer. The butterflies are here in your stomach but that is not enough for you to determine your feelings.

"Get on your knees Eren, eat me out" His eyes grow wider but he wastes no time obeying you.

Parting your knees, Eren yanks you to his face, planting it straight in your pussy, he then starts to rub it left to right, up and down, the groan he left out sends vibrations in your whole body. With the help of his fingers he stretches the skin around your clitoris, exposing completely the bundles of nerves to the cold air of the room. You don't have the time to shiver that his tongue is actively lapping at it.

Your hips jolt at the contact it almost feels like your first time, you can't even remember the last time you received head. Grabbing your glass from the table you sip on your wine as a smile spreads across your lips, this what heaven must be like, a pretty boy giving you head while you sip on the gods nectar.

"Is it good ?" Eren asks, the lower part of his face covered in your arousal, the sight makes you catch your lips between your teeth, you nod pushing his head back towards your core with your feet. He smiles against your pussy.

The familiar numbness in your legs tells you that you will not last long, but there is something else, something more urgent that comes with no warning. Before you can utter out a word a stream of bodily fluid sprays on Eren's face. Fuck, maybe you had to much wine. Your body shakes and it doesn't stop eren from his assault on your abused clitoris.

"W-wait please Eren" you beg pulling at his hair, you feel the tears prick up in your eyes with the intensity of your first orgasm. He contests a bit, before resting his head on your thigh nipping at the flesh playfully.

"I want you to feel good" He doesn't seem bothered by the fact that he is covered with your cum, your pussy clenches greedily but there is nothing to grasp on, you need him right now.

"I think you prove us that you are very much capable of that " you chuckle, pushing his shoulder with your toes "Come here" you pat the empty spot on the couch next to you. Once he is sat you straddle him, locking his lips with yours. Eren quickly gets rid of his pants and underwear, he's about to pull the string of your robe, when you catch his wrist.

"It's my first time having sex since childbirth" you murmur against his lips, almost shameful. You don't want him to imagine a wild rodeo session that will leave him limping. "We are going to go slow, you chose the pace ok mommy ?" he reassures you, planting feather light kisses on your lips, here goes the butterflies against. You nod grinding on his erection a few times for good measure then slowly sinking it inside your cunt, inch by inch.

Once it is fully seated inside of you, you start with slow back and forth grinding motion. Eren's large palms are on your back, accompanying your every move, but never directing you, he is so willing to help it makes you want to ruin him. attaching his plump lip to your nipple he suckles but nothing comes out of it.

"Fed someone else today, there is nothing for you" you mock, gripping his jaw in your hand as you intensify your hips movement. Eren pout looking up at you. "I want you all to myself" he managed through your grip. His eyes are glassy, you are convinced that you can make him cry out of pleasure if you play your cards right. The thought makes your pussy clench down on him and he winces.

"You want mommy to yourself baby ?" you ask in a condescending tone, gripping the headrest of the couch to ride him harder still. He nods furiously. "I want to be yours" you chuckle at that, slipping your fingers in his mouth. "You already are Eren, you belong to me, I control every aspect of your life" you press your digits hard on his tongue and he moans. "Say it" you command, laying your feet flat on the couch to bounce up and down on his thick cock.

His words are incomprehensible , your fingers filling his mouth are the reasons, a devilish grin sprouts on your face. "Say it or I will stop" you emphasize your words with a hard slam of your hips down his cock, the tears break free from his pretty eyes, there he is.

"m'yours" he spills hastily, drool covering his digits and your chin. "Good boy" you use the nickname as a reward and his dick twitches inside of you.

It is priceless to see him like that, you feel your lower belly tangle in a mess of excitation and pride. The sloshing sound of your wet cunt ramming up and down his manhood does nothing to tame you down. The same feeling of numbness runs through your legs again, you don't want to cum yet but you are not going to be able to hold it in if he keeps looking at you like that.

"Do you want to fill me up Eren ? Fuck another baby inside of me ?" you ask, taking out your fingers out his mouth. More tears fall freely from his eyes and he growls, head falling back on the couch still gawking at you through hooded eyes,

"Please, yes please" he begs voice deeper than usual, he's such a mess right now, you giggle ready to finish him. Your lips melt on his, as your drool covered hands flies to your pussy, flicking your clit in circular motions. It is not long until Eren's cum fills you up to your womb, you follow shortly after, body thrashing against him.

"I love you" is the first thing you hear when you come back to your senses.

"I love you too Eren" you answer, his dick stirred inside of you.

If it is true, why does it leave a bad taste in your mouth ?

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wcnderlnds · 3 months ago

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lets not fall in love ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: working on the set of the newest bigbang video, you instantly find yourself crushing on seunghyun ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: none, just fluff. ・❥・ authors note: this was a request that ive been so stoked to write because it's my favourite bigbang song!!

The name Choi Seunghyun wasn't new to you. In fact, you'd first met him when you were kids. You hadn’t spoken to him much back then. There had only been casual hellos, like kids often did. That was pretty much it. He had been a quiet kid, often spending time alone. Then, you'd switched schools and hadn't seen him again until he popped up on your television one day. BigBang were the most popular band in Korea. It felt surreal to see someone you had known be that famous. It was fame you hoped to achieve one day as an aspiring actress. So far, you'd had a few little jobs here and there in advertisements and that was all well and good but you wanted more.

When you landed the job to star in a BigBang music video, you were over the moon. Maybe this would be the break you needed. So many people loved those boys, so eyes would be on you. It made you excited at the possibilities it would bring for your career. And, it would be nice to see Seunghyun after all these years. He probably wouldn't remember you – he met so many people everyday so why would he remember a kid from years ago that he’d barely known?

Shockingly, he did.

When you’d greeted all the boys, introducing yourself to them, it had taken him a moment but when it clicked, he smiled warmly at you. That smile of his made your stomach flip. The dimples on his cheeks, the way his blonde hair fell in his face; it was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. It was safe to say he’d grown into one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on.

“You’re cool if I hold your hand, right?” Seunghyun asked as you prepared for the first scene. You’d got the lucky part of playing his love interest in the music video.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly. Way too quickly. “I mean, sure, yeah, that’d be cool.”

Seunghyun laughed, leaning against the metal pole of the fence. “Someone’s eager.”

“Shutup,” you blushed, playfully pushing at his shoulder. “You know what else would be cute? If you hugged me from behind.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet you’d find that really cute.”

“You’re the worst.”

The director signalled that it was time to start filming so you took your position by the picnic table. Once action was shouted, you played your part to perfection, looking away acting like you had no idea Seunghyun was watching you. When he wrapped his arms tightly around you from behind, you leaned back into his embrace. It was all definitely for the cameras and not because you liked the feeling of his arms around you. It was all over for you when he took your hand, raising it above your heads as you walked around the table. The feeling of his hand in yours made you feel warm inside. The way he laced his fingers with yours with ease, it made you weak at the knees. You had to knock some sense into yourself – this was all an act. It wasn’t like any of it meant anything… but somewhere deep inside, you’d already realised you were crushing on this man and you’d only reconnected with him about an hour ago.

It was so easy to lose yourself in acting like a couple with Seunghyun. He made it so easy, telling you dumb jokes to make you smile, booping you on the nose. At one point, you’d rested your head on his shoulder. It was an instant reaction from him to rest his head on yours, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. Seunghyun had this magnetic charm – it was easy to get enraptured in everything he did. The way he moved, the way he talked, it was mesmerising. No wonder he had so many girls fangirling over him. You could easily understand why. Not only did he have the looks but he had the personality to go with it. He was sweet, kind and always seemed to do whatever he could to put a smile on everyone’s face.

There was a bit of time before your next scenes so you decided to take a bathroom break. As you stared at yourself in the mirror, you tried to calm your pounding heart. You hadn’t come here to get a crush on the person you were acting with. This was supposed to be professional.

‘Get a grip,’ you thought to yourself. You were almost tempted to splash your face with cold water as if that would help but then remembered the makeup you were wearing. The makeup artists had spent a good chunk of their time getting you camera ready, you couldn’t mess up their beautiful work.

Little did you know, Seunghyun was having the same internal dilemma.

“I’m screwed, bro,” he said to Jiyong as he threw himself dramatically down on the couch in their dressing room, his hand covering his eyes for added effect.

Jiyong snickered. “The song is called Let’s Not Fall In Love not Let's Fall In Love With My Old Classmate Turned Co-Star.”

“Yeah, okay, shutup,” Seunghyun peered through his fingers at his best friend. “What do I do?”

“Ask yourself when was the last time you’ve liked someone this quickly before. Then do something about it,” Jiyong shrugged.

Seunghyun thought about it. It really had been a long time since he’d caught feelings for someone so quickly. Actually, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had, that’s how long it had been. The second he’d laid eyes on you, his heart had started racing. Now, he didn’t believe in love at first sight and he definitely wasn’t in love but he had to take it as a sign. If you could get him this out of sorts so quickly then maybe he did need to do something about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Bet you can’t catch it in your mouth,” you challenged Seunghyun, a piece of popcorn ready between your fingers.

“Challenge accepted, go for it,” he opened his mouth. You threw the popcorn and he jumped up a little, catching it in his mouth with ease.

“Ugh. Are you just good at everything?”

“Dunno, wanna find out?” He raised a brow at you causing you to flush at the insinuation. You brought your hands up to your cheeks, trying to cover them but of course he noticed instantly. “You’re cute.”

Luckily you were saved by the director yelling for the scene to begin before you could embarrass yourself. In this scene you were watching a movie with Seunghyun, joking around. At one point, as you were staring at the screen, you could feel his eyes on you so you turned to face him. He broke into a cheeky grin, puckering his lips up and leaning in like he was going to kiss you. You were supposed to raise your hand up to stop him but as you did, Seunghyun moved it away, holding it in his.

This wasn’t part of the script.

Instead, he swiftly captured your lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. You were caught completely off guard, freezing for a second before relaxing into it. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek, lips moving slowly against his. ‘Cut’ was yelled from somewhere around you but it seemed like neither of you cared. How long his lips were on yours, you had no idea. Slowly, he pulled away. His eyes never left your face, his lips upturned in the sweetest smile.

“I hope that was okay,” his voice was quiet, almost cautious as if he was second guessing what he’d just done.

“It was more than okay,” you assured him. “I wouldn’t even complain if you did it again.”

“Maybe I’ll have to take you out after we finish shooting then. Really give you the full, genuine Seunghyun romantic experience.”

It was hard to contain a smile, eagerly nodding your head. “I’d love that.”

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @berfgrimm @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon

#choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #t.o.p #bigbang x reader #my fics

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unstable-samurai · 1 year ago

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Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I'm arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a cutie smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

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starboye · 9 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 31

starring: james mcavoy x male reader

request: James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc

warnings: smut, cursing, slightly rough sex, cumming untouched, pervy james, sweat kink, unprotected sex, creampie, ass eating, cum eating, slight muscle worship

directors note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN i hope you get a lot of candy or pass out a lot of candy and you better watch some scary movies tonight 🎃👻🍬🦇💀🧡

it's not that you hated james, it's just that he really just wasn't your kind of guy, when he came around he would always get you in a head look and mess up your hair or just 'jokingly' bully you and your dad never said anything to him about it, he just told you that's how james plays.

now he had to stay at your house for the whole summer after something happend with his house, i think it was something about he has renovations going on at his house, him staying in the guest room wasn't any better seeing as it was right next to your room and the walls were pretty thin so you would have to be extra quiet sometimes.

but god you had to admit when he was here he was so sexy, especially when he offered to mow the lawn and he was outside shirtless pushing the mower, sweat dripping down his muscles and abs looking like a greek god, when he came back inside you tried your hardest to hide the boner in your pants but it was kinda hard (pun intended) since it was painfully up right.

you thought james didn't see it until later that night when you thought everyone else in the house was asleep and came out of your room, accidentally bumping into a james who just got out of the shower, his arm subconsciously finding your waist out of pure instinct "oh shit sorry" you go to push off him but your hands couldn't move, to stuck feeling his chest and pecs.

seeing your infatuation with his body he picks you up by your thighs and take you back to your room "your dad's sleep right" he smirks above you pulling at the hem of your shorts "mhm" you nod and he takes the rest of your clothes off along with his towel revealing his girthy cock to you, whimpering at the sight of it making him even more eager to fuck you.

your legs instantly wrap around his waist "you want this cock bad huh" he chuckles and you nod up at him, his shoves his fingers into your mouth, wiping all around it before pulling the soaking things back out and bringing them to your hole, shoving one in then two then three and working them in and out of your to open you up nice and well for him before pulling them back out.

he looks down at you as he pushes his full length into you, your eyes widening in shock at the thickness of his dick, you were pretty shocked to think you were fucking your dads bestfriend but if it meant getting fuked by such a good cock you could give less than two fucks about it being wrong.

his hips start to snap into your ass, his tip hitting your gummy wall again and again, it was a little painful but it felt so good to stop, all you could do was let out little moan, small enough to be heard but not loud enough for your dad to hear and come see what the ruckus was "i saw that boner in your pants earlier today, such a pervy little guy" he taunts you as if he wasn't in his bestfriends sons ass right now.

"shut up please and just fuck me" you whine tightening you grip on his arms as he went harder into you "mmm fuck im cumming" you moan spurting your load all over your chest, head dropping back into the pillow a little dazed as james kept going "cumming without even jerking off? how much more of a perv could you be" he smiles and leans down to kiss you, his tongue maneuvering into your mouth and exploring it, his slightly sweaty scent was filling the room faster and faster with the mix of heat between you two.

your legs starting to go weak around his waist but still strong enough to keep him in you as he came, cum shooting up your ass as he bit back loud groans, pulling out of your messy hole he immediately went down to your ass and licked at it "push it out" he demands and you do so, pushing the load out your hole which he catches on his tongue and slurps up.

beginning to eat you out to get the rest of it, cleaning you up a little more around the hole before standing up "i take it this is gonna be a regular thing" you asks catching your breath "come to my room when your dad falls asleep and it will be" he responds putting the towel back on and walking out.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft @wompwomp-1mh3re

#james mcavoy #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n #gay smut #x male smut #x male #gay #male reader #bottom male reader #james mcavoy smut #james mcavoy x you #james mcavoy x y/n #kinktober

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draxxton · 7 months ago

Text

Noona

Kim Jiyeon(Bona X Male Character)

TW: Incest,Smut

(Hi guys, I'm new in writing so I took little help of AI, hope you guys will understand and this one is totally unedited so please ignore my spelling or grammatical mistakes)

-----------------------------

In the Winter cold streets of Seoul, Jiyeon navigated the crowded streets with a sense of urgency. The chilly autumn air nipped at her nose as she hurried through the throng of students and office workers. At twenty-eight, she carried herself with the poise of someone who had seen more than her fair share of life's hardships, yet her eyes held a spark of resilience that shone through the fatigue. With a quick glance at her watch, she sighed. She was running late again.

Jiyeon, known to her friends and family as Bona, had spent the morning preparing breakfast for her younger brother, Woo Bin. He was still asleep when she had left, a mountain of blankets obscuring his form in the small, shared apartment. At nineteen, Woo Bin was a typical teenager, caught in the whirlwind of college life and late-night gaming sessions. But to Bona, he was her responsibility, her pride, and the reason she pushed herself to the brink every day.

Her workplace, a small English language school tucked between a convenience store and a dry cleaner, was a place of refuge from their past. The students' eager faces and the steady hum of conversation filled the air with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold outside. Bona had worked here for the past five years, teaching eager minds and piecing together a life for herself and her brother. She had studied hard, juggling part-time jobs and her education to ensure they had food on the table and a roof over their heads.

As she approached the school, the smell of coffee and freshly printed textbooks greeted her. The door chimed as she stepped inside, and she was met with the familiar sight of her colleagues preparing for the day ahead. A pang of guilt twisted in her stomach; she knew they relied on her, and she never wanted to let them down. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was drowning in responsibilities, her own dreams slipping further and further away with each passing day.

"Bona, you're here," Miss Kim, the school's director, called out from behind her desk, her voice a mix of relief and reprimand.

Bona offered a quick, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for the delay. Woo Bin's alarm didn't go off again."

Miss Kim raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her expression a silent acknowledgment of the struggle Bona faced daily. Bona hastily hung her coat and grabbed her lesson plan from the neat stack on the counter. The other teachers exchanged knowing glances, some offering sympathetic nods. They had seen her come in late more times than she cared to admit, her dedication to her brother often spilling over into her work life.

The first class of the day was a group of middle-aged businessmen eager to improve their English for international dealings. As she stepped into the classroom, Bona took a deep breath, pushing her personal worries aside. She knew she had to be a beacon of energy and knowledge for her students, a role she took very seriously. The room was already buzzing with conversation, and she felt a flicker of excitement as she began to write on the board.

Woo Bin was a constant reminder of the sacrifices she had made. Their parents had abandoned them when they were young, leaving Bona to fend for herself and her little brother. But she had never let the weight of that responsibility crush her spirit. Instead, she had turned it into fuel for her drive to succeed. Her students, too, had their own struggles, and she found solace in knowing she could help them navigate the complexities of a new language, opening up opportunities that she had once only dreamed of for herself.

After a long day at work, Bona's feet ached as she stepped off the crowded subway, the cacophony of the city fading to a distant murmur as she approached their apartment. She juggled a bag of groceries with her work bag, her thoughts drifting to the dinner she would prepare for Woo Bin. It was the least she could do after another hectic day. She had promised to make his favorite dish, spicy stir-fried pork, to celebrate his recent victory in a college soccer tournament.

_______________________

"Noona, you're going to be late again," Woo Bin called out, his voice echoing through the small apartment they shared.

Bona, with her hair still wrapped in a towel, hurried into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the counter for the coffee pot. She found it half-empty and groaned. "How can you drink all the coffee again?" she asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

Woo Bin looked up from his phone, his mouth full of toast. He shrugged, flashing a mischievous grin. "You know I need it more than you," he teased.

Bona rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She poured herself a cup, the warmth and aroma offering a brief reprieve from the dreary morning. She took a sip, the bitter taste reminding her of the long day ahead. Teaching English to a class of rowdy high school students was no small feat, but she loved it. It was her escape from the weight of the world.

As she finished getting ready, she couldn't help but steal glances at her brother. His carefree spirit was infectious, and she often found herself wishing she could be more like him. Woo Bin had a way of finding joy in the simplest things-like the stray cat that had taken a liking to their building or the latest episode of a ridiculous reality show. She, on the other hand, was always so serious, burdened by the responsibilities that came with being the eldest.

But lately, Bona had noticed something different in her feelings for Woo Bin. It was a sensation that made her heart race and her palms sweat-feelings she didn't quite understand. She'd catch herself staring at him, her mind wandering to places it had never been before. She knew it was wrong, that society would never accept it, but she couldn't shake the emotions that seemed to be consuming her from the inside out.

"Noona, you okay?" Woo Bin's voice brought her back to reality. He was looking at her with concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

But as she walked out the door and into the crisp autumn air, she couldn't help but wonder if she was lying to herself. The weight of her secret grew heavier with each step she took, the world around her a blur of color and sound as she tried to push down the unspoken truth that threatened to shatter the life they had built together.

__________________________

After another hectic day of work Bona came back home. When she opened the door, the aroma of something sweet wafted towards her. Surprised, she dropped her bags and stepped into the kitchen to find Woo Bin standing over a mixing bowl, a spatula in hand. His eyes lit up when he saw her, a smear of flour on his cheek. "Noona, I made cake!" he exclaimed. It was a rare sight to see Woo Bin cook anything, much less bake. He was usually lost in his world of comic books and video games, so the sight of him donning an apron was a delightful change.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"No occasion," Woo Bin shrugged. "Just felt like doing something nice for you. You work so hard."

Jiyeon felt a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you, Woo Bin. That's so thoughtful." She stepped closer to inspect the cake. It was a simple vanilla sponge with chocolate frosting, but it looked perfect, like something from a bakery. "It smells amazing," she said, inhaling deeply.

The next few days, Woo Bin continued to surprise her with little acts of kindness. He would leave notes in her lunchbox, telling her to have a good day, and when she came home, the apartment would be spotless. One evening, as she sat grading papers, he played her favorite songs on the guitar, his voice a soft melody in the background. The way he said "Noona" was starting to feel less like a term of endearment from a younger brother and more like a pet name from someone who cared deeply for her.

One weekend, they decided to visit the park together. The sun shone warmly on their faces as they strolled along the path, sharing stories and laughter. Woo Bin pointed out the blooming cherry blossoms, and without thinking, Jiyeon reached for his hand. It was a natural gesture, one she had done countless times before, but this time it felt different. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warmth, and she looked up to find him looking at her with a peculiar expression. He didn't pull away, and their fingers intertwined as they continued walking.

On the way home, they stopped by a small street fair. The air was filled with the sound of laughter and the smell of sizzling street food. Woo Bin suggested they try their luck at the ring toss game. After a few failed attempts, he finally won a stuffed animal. He handed it to her with a proud smile, and she couldn't help but think how much he had grown since their parents had left them. His carefree attitude was a stark contrast to the solemn young boy she had raised.

That night, they decided to watch a romantic comedy, something they hadn't done since their childhood days. As they sat side by side on the couch, the warmth of his body radiating against hers, Jiyeon felt a newfound comfort in his presence. Whenever the couple on screen shared a kiss, she found herself glancing at Woo Bin, his eyes glued to the TV, a slight blush on his cheeks. It was as if the movie was mirroring the unspoken feelings growing between them.

One evening, while preparing dinner, Woo Bin playfully spoon-fed her a bite of the stew, insisting she taste his latest creation. The simple act was filled with so much affection that it made her heart flutter. She couldn't ignore the gentle way his eyes searched hers for approval, the way his smile grew when she praised his cooking. The word "Noona" rolled off his tongue with a softness that made her feel cherished, and she found herself craving the sound of it.

As the days went by, Jiyeon found it increasingly difficult to suppress her growing feelings. Every time Woo Bin called her "Noona," it felt like a sweet caress that echoed through her soul. She would catch herself staring at his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his warmth against hers. Yet fear clutched at her heart. What if she was the only one feeling this way? What if her love was one-sided and her brother only saw her as the responsible guardian she had always been?

Their bond grew stronger, their interactions filled with an unspoken understanding. Woo Bin started to notice the way she looked at him, the gentle touches that lingered a second too long, the blush that crept up her neck when they were close. He was confused by these new feelings but couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him whenever she was near.

One rainy afternoon, while they were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, the plot reached a romantic climax. The couple on screen shared a passionate kiss, and Woo Bin felt his heart race. He glanced at Jiyeon, her eyes glued to the screen, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, his heart pounding in his chest. She froze, then turned to look at him, her eyes wide and questioning. He searched her gaze, trying to gauge her reaction.

For days, she had been fighting an internal battle, her thoughts torn between her love for Woo Bin as a brother and the new, uncharted feelings that had started to bloom. Every time he called her "Noona," she felt a warmth spread through her, tinged with a longing that she couldn't quite understand. She had always been his protector, his caretaker, but now she craved more.

Jiyeon tried to focus on her work, teaching English to her eager students, but her mind kept drifting to the quiet moments she shared with Woo Bin. The way his eyes lit up when he understood a difficult concept, the way his laughter filled the apartment when they watched movies together, and the comforting weight of his head on her shoulder as they fell asleep after a long day. She felt guilty for her thoughts, but she couldn't help the way her heart raced when he was near.

As the days turned into weeks, the rain grew less frequent, but the tension between them grew stronger. She found herself dressing more carefully around him, hoping to catch his eye, and cooking his favorite meals in an attempt to bring them closer. Each time she called him "Woo Bin," she felt a strange thrill at the sound of his name on her lips, and when he called her "Noona," she wished he could see the blush that painted her cheeks.

Bona would often find herself lost in thought during her English lessons, the words on the textbook pages blurring together as she pondered over the potential consequences of her feelings. She knew that confessing her love to Woo Bin could shatter the bond they had carefully built over the years, but the thought of living a lie was becoming unbearable. Her stomach would tie in knots at the mere thought of rejection, and she would spend countless nights lying awake, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain outside, wondering if he felt the same.

The apartment they shared had become a minefield of emotions, every corner holding a memory of their shared past and the unspoken tension of their present. The silence grew heavier, charged with unspoken words and unacknowledged glances that lingered a second too long. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the sweetness of their mother's old perfume, which she had discovered in a dusty box in the back of their closet. It was a bittersweet reminder of the love they had been denied, and the love that now threatened to consume them both.

Bona felt the burden of her secret weighing on her like a boulder, straining her relationship with Woo Bin. She knew she had to be careful; one wrong move could shatter the delicate balance they had maintained for so long. Yet, every time she saw the way his hair fell over his eyes as he studied, or the way his smile grew shy when she praised him, she felt the urge to reach out and brush away the lock, to tell him everything that was in her heart.

The rain had become a constant backdrop to their lives, a symbol of the tumultuous emotions they both held within. Each drop that fell outside seemed to echo the unspoken words between them. Every time she saw Woo Bin's fingers trace the spine of a book or the way he bit his lip in concentration, she had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss him. The thought of his soft lips against hers was a temptation that grew stronger with each passing day.

Her fear of rejection was a heavy burden that weighed on her shoulders, a fear that she couldn't shake off even when the world around her seemed to be moving on. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if the love she had nurtured as a sister was met with disgust or confusion? The thought of losing him was more than she could bear, but the desire to be with him was a fire that burned within her, growing stronger with every shared smile and every comforting touch.

One evening, as they sat together in the living room, the silence between them was palpable. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a serene quiet that seemed to demand their attention. Woo Bin looked up from his book, his gaze meeting hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a spark of understanding in his eyes. Her heart raced, and she leaned in slightly, the distance between them closing like the pages of a book she had read a hundred times but never quite understood until now.

The hesitation grew heavier, a tangible force that seemed to push and pull at her. What if he didn't feel the same? What if she had been reading too much into their shared moments? The fear of losing him was a cold hand around her heart, but she couldn't ignore the warmth that spread through her body every time he was near. She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his, looking for any sign that would tell her it was okay to take that final step.

Woo Bin closed his book, his eyes meeting hers with a softness she hadn't seen before. "Noona," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I've noticed that something has changed between us." The room felt as if it was spinning, the air thick with unspoken truths. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she nodded, unable to form words.

"I've felt it too," she managed to say, her voice trembling. "But I'm afraid. What if this isn't what you want?"

Woo Bin reached out and took her hand, his touch sending a jolt through her body. "I've felt it, too, Noona," he confessed, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But I don't want to lose you. You're all I have."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, the world stopped. Bona felt as though she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, the winds of doubt and fear pushing her closer to the precipice. She knew that she had to be honest with him, no matter the outcome. She couldn't live with the secret anymore.

With each day that passed, the distance between them grew smaller, their gestures more intimate, their conversations more loaded with meaning. Yet, she remained cautious, not wanting to push him away. She knew that once she confessed her feelings, there would be no going back. They would either be bound together by love or torn apart by the very bond that had kept them afloat all these years.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching their favorite TV show, a romantic scene played out on the screen. Bona felt a pang in her heart, wishing she could share such moments with Woo Bin. The laughter from the show filled the room, but the silence between them was deafening. Her hand inched closer to his, and she could feel the warmth of his skin. She took a deep breath, her heart racing like a wild horse in her chest.

Woo Bin glanced at her, his eyes filled with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine. He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The simple gesture was like a declaration of his own feelings, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The hesitation was still there, but it was now mixed with hope.

Without another word, Bona leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her lips to his. His initial surprise melted away, and he returned the kiss with a passion that left her breathless. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as their mouths moved in perfect sync, exploring and tasting each other with a hunger that had been building for months. His hand found its way to her hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers in a silent promise of what was to come.

Woo Bin's hand slid down her back, cupping her ass, and she moaned into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of desire straight to his cock. He had dreamed of this moment, of feeling her body against his, of hearing the sweet sounds she made when she was lost in passion. He broke the kiss, his eyes searching hers, looking for confirmation that this was what she truly wanted. The love and need in her gaze was all the answer he needed.

With trembling hands, he unbuttoned her blouse, his lips tracing a path down her neck as he revealed her lacy bra. He gently unhooked it, freeing her breasts, and took one in his mouth, rolling her nipple with his tongue. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he knew she was his, that she felt the same all-consuming passion that he did. They stood up, their bodies entwined, and she reached for his belt, her hands shaking with excitement. He helped her, his own need growing with every second that passed, until his pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard cock.

He stepped back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, half-dressed and beautiful. "Noona," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, "are you sure about this?"

Bona nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she whispered, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek. "I love you, Woo Bin."

Woo Bin's eyes searched hers, the weight of her confession sinking in. He felt a rush of emotions, love, and longing that he had never experienced before. "Noona," he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion, "I love you too."

Their kiss grew more intense as they stumbled towards her bedroom, the need to be closer overwhelming them. She pushed him onto the bed, her hands exploring every inch of his bare chest, feeling the muscles flex beneath her fingertips. He reached up to pull her down on top of him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces that had finally found their place.

Woo Bin slid his hand down her back, his fingers slipping into the waistband of her skirt. With one swift motion, he pulled it down, revealing the matching lace panties that left little to the imagination. His cock throbbed with anticipation, and she could feel it pressing against her through the fabric of his boxers. She kissed him again, her tongue dancing with his as she fumbled with the button of his shirt. He helped her, his own hands shaking as he peeled it off, revealing his toned abs and the trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his pants.

He slid his hand into her panties, his finger brushing against her wet pussy, and she moaned against his lips. He stroked her gently, feeling her body respond to his touch. Bona reached down and took his cock in her hand, her eyes widening at the size and heat of him. She had never felt anything so alive, so vital. He groaned into her mouth, his hips bucking upward, and she knew he was close to the edge.

They kissed with an intensity that seemed to burn away all the years of restraint, their tongues dancing together as their hands explored each other's bodies. Bona pulled away from his mouth, her breath coming in short gasps, and looked into his eyes. "Woo Bin," she murmured, "make love to me."

Woo Bin nodded, his eyes filled with a fierce love that made her heart race even faster. He slid her panties down, exposing her bare pussy to the cool air of the room. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her, the soft curves and the sweet scent that was uniquely hers. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her wetness, and she gasped, her body arching towards him. He added another, then another, his thumb circling her clit as he watched her face contort with pleasure.

Bona could feel the orgasm building, her body tightening around his fingers, but she didn't want to come yet. She wanted to feel him inside her, to know that they were truly one. She reached down and pulled his boxers off, his cock springing free, thick and hard. She took him in her hand, stroking him gently as she positioned herself over him. She slid down, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her, and they both groaned in unison.

Their movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust a declaration of love and need. Bona's eyes never left Woo Bin's, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched the emotions play across his face. His eyes were filled with love and passion, and she knew that this was right, that this was where she was meant to be. She leaned down and whispered into his ear, "Cum inside me, Woo Bin. Make me pregnant with your child."

Woo Bin's eyes widened at her words, the reality of what they were doing hitting him like a ton of bricks. But the love in her voice, the desperation in her plea, was all he needed to hear. He picked up his pace, driving into her with a fervor that left her breathless. She could feel him getting closer, his cock swelling inside her tight pussy, and she whispered sweet nothings in his ear, urging him on.

"Noona," he groaned, "I'm going to cum."

Bona nodded, her own climax approaching like a wave crashing against the shore. "Cum inside me," she panted, the words a desperate plea. "I want to feel you fill me up."

Woo Bin couldn't hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, he thrust deep into her, his cock pulsing as he released his load, filling her up with his hot seed. Bona's eyes rolled back in her head as she came, her body shaking with pleasure. She felt complete, as if she had found the missing piece to a puzzle she had been searching for her entire life.

They lay there, panting and tangled in each other's arms, the sweat on their bodies mingling like their emotions. "Noona," Woo Bin murmured, his voice still thick with desire, "I never knew it could be like this."

Bona couldn't agree more. The love she had felt for him as a sister had transformed into something more profound, more intense than she could have ever imagined. She had been holding onto her secret for so long, afraid of what it could do to their relationship, but now that it was out in the open, she felt lighter than air. "Me neither," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. "But I'm so glad it's you."

Woo Bin kissed her again, his hands roaming over her body as if he couldn't get enough of her. He slid down the bed, his mouth tracing a path down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. His tongue circled her nipples, teasing and sucking until she was arching her back in pleasure. He kissed his way down her stomach, his hands pushing her thighs apart. "Noona," he murmured, "you're so beautiful."

He kissed the inside of her thighs, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. He could feel her pussy getting wetter with every touch, and it was driving him wild. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around him, and she gasped. "Woo Bin," she whispered, her voice a soft plea. He knew she was ready, so he positioned himself between her legs, his cock poised at her entrance.

He pushed into her, inch by inch, watching her face contort with pleasure. "Noona," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and love. She felt so warm, so welcoming around him, and he knew that this was where he belonged. They moved together, their bodies in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge. "I love you," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Bona's heart swelled with happiness at his words. She had always loved him, but now, she knew that their love had grown into something more. Something that she had never dared to hope for. "Woo Bin," she breathed, her voice filled with emotion, "I love you too."

They kissed again, their tongues exploring each other's mouths with a newfound hunger. Woo Bin's hands roamed over her body, caressing her curves and memorizing every inch of her. Bona felt like she was melting into him, their bodies fitting together as if they had been made for this moment.

"Noona," he murmured against her lips, "I love you."

Bona felt the world around them fade away as she leaned in, closing the distance between them. Her heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation of his touch driving her wild. She didn't know if she could handle the intensity of her emotions, but she knew she had to try. She kissed him back, her tongue sliding against his, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her body. Woo Bin's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, as if he never wanted to let her go.

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