#INTIMATE ENCOUNTER BETWEEN FRIENDS OR...

[drenched-menandh2o]

FAR FROM WATER

Starring: Lucas Nealon and Jarid Dominguez

Directed By: Josh Cox

During a beach trip two young men, friends, share an intimate encounter and are forced to examine the future of their relationship. This 5 minute short film boasts very little dialog but gets the viewer invested in this story. Hats off to Director, Writer, Editor etc for this short yet masterful story.

[zeltqz]

PICS & VIDEOS — caleb

✈︎ content warning | references hidden waves memory (sick caleb), phone sex, i made tara a freak cuz why not, simone hates caleb lol, suggestive texts, lingerie photos, caleb sends a dp, reader sends her wet fingers lol, no actual sex yet, just phone sex, sexually frustrated reader, caleb whimpers cuz i want him to, colonel caleb era, caleb abuses emoticons lol i love him ✈︎ synopsis | you are getting sick and tired of caleb always pulling away from potential kisses. frustrated, you take it up with your friends who give you advice on how to get him to fold. send him pics.

“I’m telling you Tara, he literally won’t make the first move. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Tara rubbed her chin. “Hm. And you’re sure he likes you?”

Beside you, Simone scoffed. “Unfortunately yes. It’s obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to address her one-sided beef with Caleb. “Yes, Tara.”

“How is it obvious? I only met him once.”

“And you couldn’t see how obvious it was?” Simone added, genuinely surprised Tara missed the obvious clues. “He wouldn’t stop staring at her like all day. The whole time we ate, he was just staring at her. Not even subtle too. I would’ve thought you two kissed by now, or at the very least fucked.” Simone looked at you now. “Seriously, why don’t you just make the first move?”

“I dunno?! It’s weird…and as much as I dream about just grabbing his face and kissing him, in the moment I just chicken out…”

Tara hummed, stroking her chin again. “I see. I see. And you know for certain he likes you? Besides the staring, and all.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” You looked down at the table, at the fries sitting on your tray, reminiscing about the last time you were in Skyhaven. 

Caleb had caught a cold from standing in the rain for too long, and the two of you were on awkward terms after an argument. He didn’t want you to see him while sick but eventually relented and let you inside his room. You checked his temperature and he was burning up, so you didn’t want to take your hands off his face, caressing his red cheeks, embracing his warmth. You sang for him, and he leaned in, and you just knew it’d finally be the moment you kissed. You even closed your eyes shut, waiting to feel his lips against yours, but he pulled himself away and turned to the side. Obviously you were frustrated, no denying that, and you were about to just leave his room before he pulled you in for a hug. Though you didn’t kiss, the hug was more intimate than you’d imagined. Every time Caleb was sick, even in the past, he rarely let you see him in that state. To see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to stop coughing, his red cheeks and ears. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to just be with him.

You were unaware of how long you were just staring off into space as you recalled the memory from a few weeks ago. Tara and Simone share a look with each other. 

“Um, hello?” Simone waved in front of your face. You blinked yourself back to reality and looked between the both of them. Simone got a good look at your face and clicked her tongue. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not!”

Tara cheered. “Wait, were you thinking about him?!” She questioned, and your face flushed even harder. You looked away, and she cheered even louder. “Tell me what you were thinking about!”

Simone, who’d rather die than admit she was curious, rested her elbow on the table, cheek in palm as she turned to look at you, waiting for the explanation.

You sighed and told them the story in extreme detail about your last encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven. Though it started on bad terms, the two of you had been even closer than before. You text every single day whenever he can respond, and when he’s unable to come to the phone, you always spam him with funny videos, and emojis. And he responds to every single one of them. You two fall asleep on the phone almost every night, if he doesn’t come home too late from work, and wake up to see either him still dead asleep, or the call being cut, but he always follows it up with:

Sorry for hanging up, i had to head to work ;-; ill text you as soon as i come back :D 

You hadn’t spoken to him in the last few days though, as he was leading a team to explore the Deepspace Tunnel and would be out of service for at least 5 days. It’s only day 3 and you’ve been missing him so much, it’s crazy. He’s what you think of when you fall asleep, and wake up. You’re not even safe from him in your dreams.

“I’ve got a question,” Tara says, raising her hand up.

“Proceed.” You gesture for her to continue.

She leaned in across the table, cupping her hand around her mouth. “Can I be the maid of honour at your wedding?”

“TARA!” you exclaim. Simone nearly snorts her milkshake up her nose at your reaction. The two of them start laughing and you chuckle a bit yourself. They continue talking and you whip out your phone to open your messages with Caleb, eying the message you sent him this morning.

08:44 I just woke upppp. I’m heading to lunch with some friends today!!! I’ll send you some photos you can salvate over once u get back

You swipe to the camera and snap a photo of your half eaten burger with fries, sending it in chat with a yummy emoji.

13:33 Bet u wish this was u huhhhhhhhhhhh

You throw the fact he has to be on a strict diet in his face, adding a few random emojis before turning off your phone. 

“She was texting him just now,” Simone’s voice startled you. 

“No I wasn’t.”

“Look at that grin on your face.”

You quickly drop the smile you didn’t know existed off your face. “I’m not grinning!”

“You so are!” Simone cackled, leaning into your personal space, eyeing your phone. “Show me what you said.”

“It’s not much,” you say, turning your phone back on. “Just send him a picture of my food.”

Simone looked at the one sided replies, how you’ve been spamming him with messages for the last three days and he hasn’t been online since. She raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, is he ghosting you?”

“What? No.” You take your phone back and hand it to Tara who was struggling to see from the other side of the table. “He’s just on a mission right now. Five days long. I always spam him with he’s unavailable. He says I can tell him whatever is on my mind.”

“Mm-hm,” Simone hummed.

“You know what would be so crazy?” Tara said, scrolling through your messages. 

“What?” you and Simone say in unison.

“If you sent him nudes.”

You nearly choked on air, Simone’s eyes widening at the words coming out of Tara’s mouth. 

“It’s always the innocent looking ones, huh.”

Tara giggled. Meanwhile you were still in a state of shock. 

“Um??? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Well, no,” Tara defended. “Think about it. You two are basically dating already, just haven’t made it official. And you said you want him to make the first move right? How will he know if its okay to do or not if he doesn’t know you are just as into him as he’s into you? And since you don’t wanna kiss him first, show him you’re into him at least with a few picturesssssss.”

On the surface she wasn’t wrong, you couldn’t deny that. Growing up, Caleb had seen your body before, it wasn’t unusual. Beach days where you were mainly in bikinis, heatwaves where you were wearing mainly shorts and crop tops. He’d even walked in on you changing a few times, and vice versa. It wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t vaguely seen before. But the thought of actually doing it make a knot form in your stomach. But it also made arousal pool between your legs at the thought of him seeing you in a different light.

Maybe this would be the transition you both needed to take your relationship to a different level.

You finally spoke after a while of contemplation. “I mean, sure. But I’ve never taken any before. I don’t even own sexy clothes.”

Simone waved you off. “It’s not that hard. Men are so easy to please. I got you.” She finished her milkshake in a few sucks and set the empty cup down on the table. “Come on, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” you questioned.

Tara squealed. “Shopping, yes!” She quickly got up from her seat and dragged you out of yours. 

Tara and Simone led you out of the food court  and into Victoria’s Secret a few floors down. The three of you spent the next two hours picking different outfits, ranging from two piece sets, to one pieces, bralettes and panties. You ended up spending more than you thought you would’ve but it was all worth it. 

You took them back to your house and the photoshoot began. Was it awkward at first? Yes. You barely wore tight fitted, revealing outfits, especially ones as sexual as this. But after a few test photos, your body loosened up and you gradually became more confident. 

“Press your boobs together,” Tara shouted from behind the camera. You were laying flat on your back, your head hanging off the bed as you stared into the camera. 

“This position looks silly,” you comment. 

“You look smoking hot though!!”

Simone moves behind Tara and bends down to peek at the camera. She wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It looks a bit silly.”

You sat up, sighing. “Thank you.”

“Okay wait, what about sucking a finger into your mouth? Would Caleb be into that? Ooh! Or arching your back on the bed?” The longer you spent with Tara today, you realised she’s not as innocent as she looks. She really is the mastermind behind the operation. From picking out each lingerie set, to looking up seductive posts on Pinterest to make you copy. 

“Are the ones we took now not enough?” you asked, muscles and back aching from bending over and twisting your body in such unnecessary positions. 

“If you’re this tired after some nudes, how are you gonna get the stamina to get fucked hard by Caleb?” Tara retorted. 

“I—”

Simone grabbed the phone and began scrolling through the photos. She picked out one she really liked and turned the phone to you. “This is the one you should send.”

It wasn’t any of the over the top poses Tara suggested. It was plain and simple but it got the job done. You were laying flat on the bed, holding the camera up in the form of a selfie, and biting your fingernail. The camera covered everything from your lips, down to your mid thigh, covered in fishnets from the lingerie.  

“This one? Really?” you asked as you examined the photo. You weren’t denying you looked hot in it, but doubts were starting to fill your mind. What if he thinks you’re being desperate? Or if he thinks it’s distasteful to expose yourself like this for no reason. Though you know Caleb would never think of you that way, your brain can’t help but convince you otherwise. 

“Or or maybe I should just delete them,” you request in a panic as Tara and Simone go through all the photos to see if there’s any better ones. 

Upon hearing your request, Tara nearly breaks her neck with how quickly she looked up. “ExCUZE ME?! Delete them?! For what???! Why!”

“Because! What if he doesn’t like them? Or thinks I’m…desperate?” You scratch your arm, looking down at your thighs. 

Simone’s nose twitched. “Then I’ll beat his ass.”

Tara added. “Well, it’ll suck if he does. But with how you described him, I don’t think he’d look at you that way. And if he does, you can always just say “oops meant to send to someone else” to save face. OH! We can even do the prank where we dress up as a boy and take photos to make him jealous!”

Hearing that, Simone smirked. “I’ll happily do that for you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No you’re right. Caleb wouldn’t do that. He’s never as much belittled me or even insulted me before in my life. I genuinely cant think of a negative think he’s said to me.”

“Soooooooo what’s the holdup?” Tara commented. 

You shrugged. “I’ll send it. I just need time to process before I do it.” They both deadpanned you and you continued, feeling the urge to defend yourself. “You guys won’t understand! I’ve known him for over a decade! Almost 14 years! This kinda stuff you don’t send to someone like that without at least thinking it through.”

“You’re right,” they both hesitantly agreed. 

You don’t end up sending Caleb the picture that night. Or the night after that. The day he’s supposed to return from his mission, you’re in bed, scrolling back through your messages. With no fault of yours, you had gone months without contact with him, assuming he was dead and all, but now you can barely even handle a few days. 

His profile displayed a green dot beside his name and you sat up quickly, eyes darting all over your messages and seeing the “Read” Message pop up on each one. 

He responds to each of them one by one, and your smile can’t stop growing as you see him reach the final message, the one about the burger. 

Now you’re just showing off >:( 

Anyway I’m back safe and sound from my mission did ya miss me ;)

yes so much

You responded without missing more than a second. 

Oh didn’t expect you respond that quickly you MUSTVE missed me that bad huh

How much did u miss me? 

You could tell him straight up. Tell him about how you read his messages everyday, thought about him almost every second for the last five days. Or you could just show him. 

You opened your camera roll and picked out the photo. Your thumb trembled over the send button before finally pressing down on it. Your stomach dropped as you saw it send in chat officially. It was too late now. 

Caleb read it and stayed quiet. Thirty seconds passed and he didn’t respond and you felt like you wanted to throw up. Your thumbs were already typing out Tara’s excuse: oh sorry! I meant to send that to someone else 

And before you could press send, Caleb responded. 

Is that for me?

You swallowed. If you said yes, and he hated it, then your excuse wouldn’t work anymore. You decided to risk it all and simply respond truthfully. 

Yes. Is it…bad?

Caleb takes longer to respond than usual and less than thirty seconds later a picture sends in chat. His cock stands tall in frame, precum leaking out from the tip. His hand has a firm grin around the base off it, the tip a reddish hue in comparison to its natural pink colour.

Your breathing stopped as you stared at it. This was Caleb’s dick. You were fucking staring at his dick. 

You swiped out of the picture and sent a 😧😯😮😲 combination. The two of you often communicated through emojis and you weren’t sure how to respond with words. 

Caleb sent crying emojis. 

Did you like it?

Yes? You’ve been hiding that the whole time? 

Says you. I knew your body was gorgeous but fuck. 

You fought the urge to kick your feet together, curling into a ball on your side as you tried to not let his words get to you. Clearing your throat, you refocus yourself and send another message. 

Sooooo what now 🧍‍♀️

I dunno 🧍

You get ready to type a response before he double texts. 

Do you wanna call?

You never thought you’d see the day you’d actually be nervous answering a call from Caleb before. 

Yes

You barely had time to let the message marinate before Caleb started calling. Readying yourself, you pressed the phone up to your ear and swiped. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he responded, taking a deep breath. “Is it just me or is this sorta awkward now.”

“No it’s definitely awkward,” you joked, laughing under your breath. 

“I mean, I can always blame you for it.”

“What?” You almost shrieked and broke your back with how quick you sat up from your bed. “How is this my fault?!”

“Nobody asked you to send me that sexy photo out of nowhere,” he joked, tone light despite his words. You didn’t take anything to heart however. 

“Yeah, well be grateful. Otherwise you would’ve died without seeing a girl in lingerie before.”

“How do you know I haven’t seen that before?”

“Because I know you, Caleb.” You said each word slowly. “Or at least I hope you haven’t.” You paused, voice softening ever so slightly. “Have you?”

“I was joking around. Of course I hadn’t. I am assuming though you’d never seen another guys dick before?”

“Well obviously I have. Like in movies and stuff. But not in person.”

“What kind of movies were you watching?” he questioned, suspiciously. 

“You know! Just movies! Shut up,” you whined, ignoring his obnoxious laughter. “Anyway, dudes sent me unsolicited pics in college all the time. I’ve seen dicks before. They weren’t like yours though.” The words spilled from your mouth without even realising you said it. 

“Oh? What’s the difference between mine and theirs?”

You didn’t realise the interest in his tone with how distracted you were, eyes closed and picturing the sight of Caleb’s dick in the black fog of your mind. You could always go back and look at the photo, but you wanted to burn the sight in your memory first. 

“Yours was bigger. And for once, looking at a dick didn’t make me wanna throw up. Theirs were so…ew. Like it was never hard, which is so fucking offensive. If you’re gonna send me that shit unsolicited by the way, at least sprout a hard on or something. Fucking hell.”

Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen how quick your picture got me hard. It’s not normal.” His voice dropped a little and you inhaled sharply. 

“R—really?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding slightly out of breath, his breathing ragged. 

“What did you like about it?” you questioned, shifting down onto your back on the bed. 

“Everything. Fuck. You—why are you so hot?” His voice betrayed him at that moment. He let out a soft moan and you could hear wet sounds in the background if you listened close enough. 

Your hand trailed down your stomach, entering your panties and softly rubbing your clit. “W—what else?” 

“Your skin. Looks so soft—mm—and your lips around your finger? Holy fuck.” His filter was long gone now, freely speaking his mind about your body. Your thighs clenched together. 

“Do you wish they were wrapped around something else?”

“God yes,” he sounded so whiny, his hand moving faster up and down his aching cock. “You don’t know how much I love your lips.” He says your name and for a moment you freeze up. 

It’s not often he says your name, and you’ve been so used to just hearing him address you as Pipsqueak. Hearing your name roll off his tongue so easily, and with how whiny he sounds right now, you couldn’t help but insert a finger into yourself. 

Your legs twitched as you began pumping your finger in and out, back arching off the bed and an involuntary moan left your throat. “Caleb—”

“Yes, princess? What is it?”

“I wanna see you so bad right now—mm—fuck.” You gasped as you curled your fingers inside you, shoving them as deep as you could. “I need you.”

“I need you more. Shit. I’m gonna cum soon,” he announced, squeezing the tip of his cock whenever his hand reached it. 

“It’s hard to make myself come,”  you whined. You were never able to successfully have an orgasm on your own and it was frustrating. You wanted nothing more than to experience it first hand right now with Caleb. 

“I’ll help you. Shit. I can teach you. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Next time I see you, I promise.”

“Please,” your voice barely reached the mic. 

“Fuck!” he let out a loud moan as he came, heavy pants slowly turning to whimpers as his cock milked him dry. He couldn’t control his breathing for at least thirty seconds and you just listened to him pant until he caught himself. 

Letting out one more shaky exhale, he tried to swallow but his throat was dry. “Fuck my throat hurts.”

You laughed and pulled your fingers out. Unable to reach an orgasm, you frowned. But the promise he left earlier gave you hope. 

“Go drink some water dummy.” You looked down at your fingers, glistening with your slick and contemplated. “Wait Caleb.”

“Hm?”

“Check chat.”

You put the phone on speaker and opened the chat camera, taking a photo of your wet index and middle finger, a string of slick connecting them both. You captioned it:

Drink me instead

Feeling more bold, you sent it without even batting an eye. You could hear the exact moment Caleb processed your message with his sharp inhale.  You heard the sound of screenshots being taken, once, twice, then three times. 

“Okay okay damn chill out,” you said while laughing, Caleb joining in. 

“What does it taste like?” he asked, utterly curious. 

“Come find out,” you responded, voice just as sultry as your words. 

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll come over right now.”

“Wait now?” You glanced at the clock, the time reading almost 2 am. “You have work in the morning don’t you?”

“So what? I have bigger priorities right now.”

On one hand it would be so wrong for the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel to miss work over some pussy, but on the other hand, you hated the goddamn fleet. 

“Well what are you waiting for?”

authors note: can i just say i literally love this man with everything in me like WTF???? HES SO CUTE AND HOT AND I JUST WANNA SQQUEEZE HIS FACE

he brought me out of my writers slump😩🙇🏽‍♀️

[destheoren]

Love and Deepspace Non MC Reader Fics

(list inspired by: @erisnxxi )

made this collection for myself and to keep track of everything I've read so far. some are crossposted on tumblr and ao3 so I'll try to add both links (though i might miss some so let me know).

Status: Unedited & Incomplete tags; More fics to be added soon

symbols (will use soon):

✧ - smut

♡ - yandere/possessive/obsessive

☆ - angst

✴︎ - isekai/reincarnation/transmigration/reverse isekai

☁︎ - fluff

𖥔 - self aware au (technically counts as nonmc)

Caleb:

Rotten Apples by hcntrcss: (ao3) (tumblr)

Echoes in Space by feralaffection: (ao3)

Live, for Me by kat_the_cat: (ao3)

Psychosomatic by minamidwinter: (ao3)

The Colonel's Keeper by saintobio: (tumblr)

Weightless Paradise by luvl3ss: (ao3) (tumblr)

The Engineer's Gravity by mephisto-reporting: (tumblr)

back to friends by hxlxnaaa: (tumblr) (ao3)

keeper by "anonymous": (ao3)

mine by captivating-flavors: (tumblr)

best friend's brother au by mandalhoerian7: (tumblr)

Caleb's Spitfire - MC Twin AU by lily-jaxk: (tumblr)

fake dating by militaryapple: (tumblr)

Caleb becomes a wet rat (and gets unpixelated?!) by 4-the-l0ve-0f-art : (tumblr) (ao3)

Sylus:

Rewriting Fate by feralaffection: (ao3)

when love arrives-- and when she leaves. by cainis: (ao3)

Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You by writerclaire: (ao3) (tumblr)

A Second Life for Strays! by stupidboy: (ao3)

Error 404 by ittybittyfanblog: (tumblr)

Impartial Hearts by ladsonlads: (tumblr)

surprise encounter by kitimeq: (tumblr)

calm and serenity by blueivyy99: (tumblr)

breaking my heart, 'tis the season, i guess by cainis: (ao3)

the sin & the sinner by saintobio: (tumblr: 1, 2, 3)

heartbreak anniversary with sylus by mephisto-reporting: (tumblr)

hurts so good by comatosebunny09: (tumblr)

merry christmas, mr. sylus by comatosebunny09: (tumblr: 1, 2, 3)

sensitive by comatosebunny09: (tumblr: 1, 2)

a curse between us by eelliotss: (tumblr: 1, 2)

Fourth Wall by always-just-red: (tumblr)

Onychinus' Finest by always-just-red: (tumblr)

Emptiness by antaresr: (ao3)

ikigai by lighting_and_shadow: (ao3)

maybe by captivating-flavors: (tumblr)

enough by captivating-flavors: (tumblr: 1, 2)

Sylus' Darling - MC Twin AU by lily-jaxk: (tumblr)

out of bounds by novthirty: (tumblr)

Zayne:

Nocturne of Twilight by chuloyi: (ao3) (tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4)

My Wedding Vow Is To Divorce You by kira-loves0905: (tumblr)

lost among the pages by lazylattedgleam: (tumblr)

just give me your forever by shaiyasstuff: (tumblr: 1, 2)

heartbreak anniversary with zayne by mephisto-reporting: (tumblr)

Gymnopédie no. 1 by deltachye: (ao3)

giliw ko (my dear) bybarefootindecember (ao3: 1, 2) (tumblr: 1, 2)

date by captivating-flavors: (tumblr)

Rafayel:

jealousy in the game by melkar: (ao3)

Intimations of Immortality by thyrd_pardie: (ao3)

When you suddenly wake up in Linkon City by irandial: (ao3) (tumblr)

heartbreak anniversary with rafayel by mephisto-reporting: (tumblr)

Fourth Wall by always-just-red: (tumblr)

Rafayel's Muse - MC Twin AU by lily-jaxk: (tumblr)

a blessed bond, broken by time by yuansie: (tumblr: 1, 2)

ocean memories by yuansie: (tumblr)

burning hearts by maddamoiselle: (tumblr)

Xavier:

Meet Me at the Edge of Time by oeggchi: (ao3)

three hours past midnight by savouringmidnights: (tumblr)

glass half full by shaiyasstuff: (tumblr)

we can't be friends by kitimeq: (ao3) (tumblr)

Multi

Insatiable by Aceecee: (ao3) (tumblr)

Fake by urlulugululueverythinggoessmoothulu: (a03)

Wildest dreams by tactfulao3: (ao3)

Cats & Deepspace by thxforthemmrs: (ao3)

on the sideline by rqyup: (tumblr)

they forget your anniversary by yeosatinyngz: (tumblr)

Hugs are Mandatory by whosashan: (tumblr)

Sneakyyy by whosashan: (tumblr)

Bitter by whosashan: (tumblr)

Borrowed Time by eelliotss: (tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4)

I am in love and deepshit by amethystheartsx: (tumblr: 1, 2)

tempatio by morningstarfirstsin: (tumblr) (ao3)

A Hymn to You by lapetitecafe: (ao3)

[simplyholl]

Filthy

Summary: After a long mission, Bucky needs you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

See my Masterlist Here

"Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" Your sweet voice replayed over and over in his mind. He hadn't flat out refused your offer, but he hadn't said yes either. Now as he laid under the rubble of the bomb Hydra had detonated, it was all he could think of.

You were friends, one of the only people besides Steve to make him feel welcome on the Avengers. The others were wary of him, and he didn’t blame them. He had done unforgivable things as The Winter Soldier. Now he was fighting for the right cause. He couldn't help the reoccurring nightmares of the horrors he encountered in his past. He didn't want to get too comfortable in his new life, the one Steve helped him obtain because he was scared The Winter Soldier was still lurking around in his brain somewhere.

That's why he never dated. Sam would tease him, telling him he could have anybody he wanted, but he settled for his hand every night. Bucky couldn't afford to get too close to anyone. Especially someone who was weaker than him like the opposite sex. He was scared he would lose control while being intimate and hurt or even kill his partners. So he never let anyone get too close, until you.

You came bouncing into his life unexpectedly. You were brought on the team shortly after him. He would never forget your first day. Steve introduced you to everyone at the morning meeting. You were all smiles, your bubbly personality instantly drawing him in. The others were making comparisons between the two of you immediately. You were so happy, so upbeat all the time and Steve was the only one who could get Bucky to crack his cold exterior and actually smile.

Despite your differences, you got along great. Which was a bonus since Tony liked to pair you together for missions. You worked well together, complimenting each other in ways you had never thought of. Who knew almost dying together every week can cause you to form close bonds? You were spending all your free time together. You introduced him to your favorite films, some of them were awful, but he would never tell you that. You would stay up late together watching old reruns of 90's sitcoms for comfort after long missions. Bucky would go shopping with you, holding every bag you had and never complaining.

The team thought something was going on between you. Why else would the cold super soldier follow you around like a lost puppy? They put Steve up to asking about it, but Bucky denied anything but friendship. There had never been anything happen in the whole year you knew each other. You never sat too close or crossed any boundaries, never thought about it until a month ago.

One of the longest, most dangerous missions you had ever been on finally came to a close. There had been too many casualties and you were upset. Even the comfort of your warm pajamas and favorite movie didn't ease your mind. Bucky thought you needed to be alone, so he told you goodnight and headed for his room. You called after him pleading him to stay with you. You couldn't be alone, not after that.

He hesitated, he never stayed the night with anyone because of his nightmares. Tony even gave him a pass when a mission required room sharing. He was the only one who didn't have to pair up. He was afraid he might hurt you or scare you during his sleep. He tried to tell you, but you couldn't be swayed. He found himself under your fluffy pink comforter on heart shaped pillows, surrounded by a mountain of stuffed animals but he felt oddly at home.

You tried to cuddle up to him, but he scooted away. He didn't want you too close to him while he was asleep just in case he had a nightmare. But you didn't care. You told him if he attacked you in his sleep, you would blast his dick off. That made him a little less worried. "How do Tony and Clint do it?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, trying to snuggle the grumpy super soldier. "Do what?" He relaxed a little under your touch. "The whole normal family thing. They have a wife, kids, the works, and they are the only ones. The rest of us can't keep a relationship for more than a month, and some only do one night stands. It's hard being a hero when you have to give up stuff like that."

Bucky considers your words carefully. "Is that something you want?" You throw your leg over him, trying to get comfortable. "Eventually, I want to settle down. I'm thinking at least ten years from now, not any time soon. It's just hard to tell who is asking you out for the right reasons or because you're famous. I can't tell you how many phones I've destroyed after dates because they were trying to live stream the whole thing. Is that why you don't date?"

Bucky tenses, explaining how his past as The Winter Soldier scared him away from anything like that. "So you haven't been having sex because you're scared you will hurt someone?" He nods and you giggle. Bucky looks at you like you've grown a second head. "I'm sorry Bucky, that's ridiculous. Your arm must be so tired! Oh my God! Do you use the metal one?" His silence makes you laugh harder. "Bucky there are super powered women you could have been sleeping with this whole time. People who could at least put up a fair fight if something like that happened, but you're okay now right? I thought the code words didn't work anymore." You rub his back soothingly.

You gasp as an idea hits you. "Would it be too crazy if we slept together?" It was like word vomit. You didn't mean to say it out loud, but you couldn't take it back now. Bucky is so still that you think he's fallen asleep. Thankful he didn't hear your unhinged suggestion, you lay your head down to go to sleep.

"You mean that?" Bucky asks after a few minutes of silence pass. "If it wouldn't hurt our friendship then, why not? I trust you. And I could hold my own if things went sideways. Plus, I'm a lot hotter than your hand, you have to admit that." The quip earned a chuckle from him. "Can I think about it?" He asks, his seriousness taking over. "Of course." You snuggle back into him, sleep finding you more quickly than you would've liked. That was a little over a month ago, neither of you brought it up afterward. You figured he didn't want to hurt your feelings, so you let it go.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand helping him to his feet. "I thought we lost you back there." He says leading him to the quinjet. On the ride home, Bucky thought about his life, how unhappy he had been lately. He thought of you and how he kept you at arm's length to protect you from himself. You were always so open to him, always letting him know what was on your mind. When you suggested the two of you sleep together, he was shocked. Of course, he wanted to but he couldn't. You were too sweet, he was jaded. He would end up hurting you somehow, he was sure of it. But you weren't scared of him, you trusted him.

Bucky thought of all the times he laid alone at night, masterbating when he could have went home with someone instead. He always turned them down, he couldn't risk it. He lived too dangerously. He could lose his life any moment saving the planet from the next alien attack. Wasn't it time he started living for himself? He had his mind made up when the quinjet landed. Steve told him to go get the cuts on his face and arm examined but he ignored him.

He almost ran to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Steve to get on before pressing the button to shut the doors. When it finally stopped on his floor, he walked by his room, stopping three doors down right outside of yours. He should have cared that it was three in the morning, that he would be waking you up, but he didn't. He tapped on the door loud enough to wake you.

He regretted coming straight here as he waited for you, he should have went to his room to shower first. His leather jacket was dirty and torn. There was a small gash on his arm that had finally stopped bleeding. His face was filthy and according to Steve, he had a cut there too. He probably looked terrifying. He thought about leaving to clean up, but then he heard the pitter patter of your feet as you approached the door.

You pull it open slightly at first, to see who is outside, opening it wider when you see him. He steps inside as you shut it back, locking it behind him. Bucky looks around the dark room noticing the glow from your tv. Your hair is messy, you must have been sleeping fitfully. His gaze drops to your body, you're wearing a black t-shirt that stops at your hips and black lace panties.

"Are you okay?" You ask taking in his disheveled appearance. You turn to get something to clean his wounds, his vibranium hand catches your wrist. "Bucky? What hap-" He picks you up with one arm, holding you close to his body as his lips crash into yours. He walks you to the edge of your bed, tumbling on top of you as your back hits your fluffy pink comforter.

"Do you still want this?" He asks, his voice rougher than he intended. You can't think clearly, not with him on top of you, caging you in like this. His blue eyes search your face as he waits for an answer. Your panties grow wetter with each second that passes. Your nipples are peaked under your shirt, desperate to be touched as you press your chest to his dirty leather jacket. "Yes" You somehow manage to whisper your confirmation.

His mouth is on yours again, rough and demanding, almost desperate. You cup his face with your hands, "Slow down, I'm not going anywhere." You assure him, breaking the kiss. He groans, hating the loss of contact. "Can't" He rasps, his face nuzzling against your neck. He nips and kisses the sensitive skin there, his tongue licking from your shoulder to your jaw.

His flesh hand travels to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple. He keeps kissing his way back down your throat until he reaches the collar of your shirt. His metal arm grabs the top, slipping underneath to get a good grip on it. He rips it down the center with little effort.

You gasp as the cold air hits your now exposed chest. But you're not cold for long, Bucky's lips capture a nipple between his lips tugging and sucking like his life depends on it while his flesh hand toys with the other one. You're not sure what has gotten into him, you never expected it to be like this, like he needs you.

He kisses a trail down your stomach to your panties. They aren't exactly see through, but they don't hide anything either. His vibranium fingers dig into your hip as he lowers his face, his pink tongue licking up the center of your soaked panties. You whimper underneath him, your fingers sliding in his hair, pulling at the short strands.

He grunts as he licks you through the lacy material. You try to close your legs around his head, hoping to bring yourself more relief. Bucky's steel grip on your hip tightens as he brings his flesh hand to your thigh, pulling it off him. He opens you wide, continuing his desperate assault on you. "I need more, please." You whine, needing to actually feel him against you.

He thankfully takes mercy on you, removing his hands to grab both sides of your panties. "Lift your hips for me." You do as your told, and he slides the unwanted garment off of you. He drags you to the edge of the bed, lowering himself on his knees in front of you. He parts your thighs, metal hand returning to its rightful place on your hip. You place your leg over his shoulder, taking a deep breath as the anticipation makes your skin prickle.

His hot breath on your soaked core makes you tremble. You feel him smirk against you. "I havent even touched you yet and you're shakin' like a leaf." A dark chuckle escapes him and he dives in. His tongue flat against you as he gathers your slick, bringing it to your clit and swirling it around. He moans, loving the way you taste. He wraps his lips around your most sensitve part, drawing you in, causing your hips to buck upward.

His grip on your hip tightens, a bruise beginning to form under his thumb. "Be a good girl for me. Stay still." His voice is soft, gentle, a complete contrast to his actions. He alternates between sucking you roughly and licking you slowly. You squirm underneath him, you're so close. He suddenly stops, removing his face from you.

His flesh hand rubbing your stomach, before laying his arm on you forcefully to keep you from moving. "I said stay still." He growls, his tongue swiping your clit before he sucks it between his lips once more. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not writhe against him. You've never seen him like this so needy, almost feral. He's like a wild animal slurping you down like you're the first thing he's eaten in weeks. You don't dare to disturb him. So you lie as still as you can, letting him have you.

He needs this. He needs you. He flicks his tongue expertly over your clit, sendng you spiralling. He holds you down as he takes all he wants from you. He's not satisfied until you come three times. Your legs are wobbly, you couldn't get up if you had to. Tears stream down your face from how intense it was. He finally stands, unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough to free himself.

He adjusts himself between your legs, filling you up. You gasp, grabbing onto his grimy leather jacket for support. You wonder why he didn't bother with getting undressed, but you don't mind. You love how dirty he is. How the filth on his jacket rubbing against your bare chest is the sexiest thing in the world right now. How you can see the cut on his arm, dried blood on his sleeve. You don't know if it's his or some Hydra asshole's, and you don't know which is hotter.

His hair is disheveled. His face is scraped, dirt from the mission caked on him, remnants of your arousal still on his mouth. He fills you completely over and over, holding you as close as he can. His pants rub the back of your thighs as he pounds into you. You caress his face, "Can I be on top?" You ask quietly, afraid you'll offend him some way in his feral state. He flips you so his back is on your mattress. Normally you would be upset that your sheets were getting dirty, but you didn't mind at all. You place your legs on either side of him, sliding down his length. Your ass hits the fabric of his jeans as you take all of him.

You look behind you noticing how big he looks on your bed. His leather boots covered in mud, hanging off the edge. A gush of arousal floods his lap, his hands hold your thighs, pulling you closer. You begin to lift yourself up and down on him, your legs still shaky from your earlier orgasms. Bucky notices you won't be able to keep it up for long, so he clutches your hips, taking over. He thrusts underneath you, your hands land on his shoulders needing to steady yourself. You love that it's giving the illusion that you're in control, your body on top of his, but he's calling all the shots, moving your body like he owns it.

You've never felt so full. It's as if Bucky can read your mind, his flesh hand pressing on the bulge he's making in your stomach. He works you harder now, his vibranium thumb coming between you to swirl your clit. Your vision goes blurry, stars bursting behind your eyelids. You come with a loud cry of his name. He follows shortly after, spilling inside you. He holds you close, as you listen to his breathing slow down as he drifts off to sleep while still inside you.

Tags in the comments! ❤️

[misaerabl]

Uncharted Territory

Older Sevika (you meet her at a club) CONTENT: wc...2k ✦ older sevika (she's twice your age), you meet at a club, drinking/slightly intoxicated, strap riding, degrading nicknames, one night stand (?), modern setting, smut with plot SUMMARY: After a night out at a club, you find yourself alone, drinking, when a confident, older woman approaches. She’s intriguing, magnetic, and before you know it, you’re at her penthouse. What started as a simple encounter soon leaves you questioning how you ended up here—and why you’re not ready to leave.

The music thumps through the floor, bass vibrating up through your legs as you sit alone at the bar, a drink in hand. You’ve lost track of your friends—though, to be fair, it didn’t take long in a place this packed. A part of you thought about leaving, but the idea of going home to the same quiet routine felt unbearable. So here you are, sipping something bitter and fizzy, just trying to let go of the stress that's been clinging to you for weeks.

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice cuts through the haze of the music, low and smooth, laced with confidence. You glance over your shoulder and do a double take. She’s stunning—tall and broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline that could probably cut glass. Her dark hair is cropped close, her suit tailored to perfection, and when she shifts, you catch a glimpse of a sleek prosthetic arm, gleaming under the club's neon lights.

You smirk despite yourself. “Depends. Are you buying?”

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound deep and warm. "Of course. What’s your poison?”

You glance at your nearly-empty glass, then shrug. “Surprise me.”

She signals the bartender, who nods like they know her, and you realize immediately that she’s a regular. Not just that, but someone important. It’s not just her appearance that screams money; it’s the way she carries herself, the ease with which she owns the space around her. The bartender sets down two crystal tumblers, something amber and expensive-looking swirling inside.

“Here,” she says, sliding one toward you. “Cheers to... being alone in a crowd.”

You clink glasses and take a sip. It’s smooth, smoky, and undeniably the best thing you’ve tasted all night. “Not bad,” you say, licking your lips. “I could get used to this.”

Her gaze lingers on you, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I like your style. You’ve got guts.”

“You don’t even know me,” you tease, leaning in slightly.

“Not yet.” Her eyes glint, and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or her sheer presence that’s making your head spin. “How old are you, anyway?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer honestly. Her eyebrows lift slightly, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting. I’m old enough to be your... well, let’s just say twice your age.”

You shrug, smirking. “So? I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Her laughter rumbles over the music, and she shakes her head. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

You lean closer, your confidence bolstered by the drink and her attention. “Maybe. You like trouble?”

She raises her glass, tilting her head to study you. “You have no idea.”

Her words hang in the air, a challenge you’re more than willing to meet. The drink is warming you from the inside, but it’s her gaze, steady and unflinching, that’s really setting you on fire. You swirl the amber liquid in your glass, leaning in closer so she can hear you over the music.

“Maybe I’d like to find out,” you say, letting the words linger, daring her to respond.

She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Careful,” she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. “You might bite off more than you can chew.”

You laugh softly, leaning your elbow on the bar, angling yourself toward her. “Maybe I’m hungry.”

Her gaze drops to your mouth for a split second, but you catch it, and the heat in your cheeks spreads through the rest of your body. She leans closer, the space between you shrinking, her scent—something smoky and clean—pulling you in.

“You don’t scare easily, do you?” she asks, her tone teasing but her eyes searching yours.

“Should I be scared?” you counter, matching her energy, holding her gaze like it’s a game you’re determined to win.

She chuckles, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you shiver—deep, rich, and full of something dangerous. “Depends. I don’t exactly come with a warning label, but maybe I should.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at her playfully. “Sounds like you’ve got a story or two.”

“More than a few,” she admits, leaning back slightly, her prosthetic arm resting on the bar. The metal catches the light, sharp and sleek, like her. “But I’d rather hear yours.”

You take another sip of your drink, letting it bolster your courage. “You first. You look like someone who could write a novel just from the way you walked in here.”

She smirks, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Flattery won’t get you far,” she teases, but the sparkle in her eye tells you it already has. “But for you, I might make an exception.”

You grin, emboldened by her reaction. “Is that so? Guess I’d better make it worth your while, then.”

Her expression shifts slightly, her smile deepening, her eyes darker now. She leans in, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone so young. What makes you think you can keep up?”

Your breath catches, but you don’t falter. You meet her gaze head-on, the challenge sparking something reckless inside you. “Why don’t we find out?”

For a moment, she just watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her glass down, her hand brushing yours as she does. The touch is deliberate, lingering, and it sends a jolt through you.

“You’re bold,” she says softly, her voice a mix of amusement and something heavier, something that makes your pulse race. “I like that.”

“Good,” you reply, barely above a whisper, leaning closer still. “Because I’m not done yet.”

Her smile widens, and the look she gives you is nothing short of predatory. “Neither am I.”

The apartment is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern finishes, with a view that stretches for miles, the city glowing beneath you like a bed of stars. The air here is different—cool, but heavy with something you can’t quite place. You take a deep breath, feeling a bit out of place. This isn’t you. You don’t usually go to clubs, let alone lose your friends in the crowd. And you definitely don’t end up in some stranger’s penthouse, especially not someone who’s twice your age.

But here you are, sitting on a plush couch. She’s standing near the bar now, looking at you with that same confident, almost teasing smile, as if this is exactly how the night was supposed to go.

“Water,” she says casually, her voice smooth and almost too calm, like she’s read you perfectly. "You need it more than I do."

You chuckle, your fingers gripping the glass tighter than necessary as you take a sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat. You’re still processing—still trying to make sense of the fact that you’re here, with her. The older woman who seems to have effortlessly drawn you into her orbit. You’ve never been this spontaneous, never allowed yourself to follow a stranger back to their place.

"Not sure why I'm here, actually," you admit, meeting her gaze. "This isn't exactly my usual scene." The words come out sounding more uncertain than you intend, but the sharp, quiet energy she exudes makes it hard to feel anything other than... intrigued.

She steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “Then why’d you come?” Her voice drops just a fraction, like she’s trying to peel back whatever resistance you’re holding on to.

You hesitate, leaning back into the couch, your thoughts tangled. "I guess I just... wanted to see where this would go." You can’t exactly explain why you decided to leave your friends behind and come here with her, but there’s something magnetic about her, something that pulls you in even as you’re questioning your own decisions.

Her lips curl up into a knowing smile, the kind that suggests she already has all the answers. “Bold,” she murmurs, taking a seat beside you. Her proximity is warm, comfortable—too comfortable, and yet, you don’t move away. “I like that. You usually make decisions like this?”

You meet her gaze, the weight of her presence pressing down on you, and your chest tightens. “Not really. Guess I’m a little out of my element.”

She tilts her head, her eyes tracing over your face. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” There’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but it’s more than that—there’s something in the way she looks at you, like she’s waiting for you to make the next move.

And suddenly, you’re not sure what comes next, but you’re not backing down either. Something about this feels too... captivating.

She gripped your hips firmly, guiding your movements as you rocked together. Your head tilted back, eyes closed in pleasure, letting out loud breathless moans.

"So fucking gorgeous" She whispered, her eyes drinking in the sight of you, savoring every inch of you in it's full glory.

The coldness of her metal arm pressing you down felt oddly intoxicating. You couldn’t explain why, but it was like the perfect balance — the chill against the heat, like liquor to the drug that was Sevika.

Her other hand reached up, cupping your face with a firm yet tender grip, guiding your gaze to meet hers as you moved. "That's it," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Keep showing me that pretty face."

Her grip on your waist tightened, urging you to move faster. Your mind was a haze, emptied of everything except the overwhelming sensation and the way she consumed you entirely.

"You're my pretty whore aren't you, baby?" She purred, her voice dripping with dominance. The sound made a shiver run through you, all you could do was cry out a breathless, trembling "YES!"

You’d lost count of how many times you’d unraveled beneath her touch. Now, your face was buried in the pillow, breaths coming in shallow gasps as you surrendered completely.

She spread your folds with her fingers, licking them before they made contact on hour cunt. That shit sent waves through your body.

How could she make you feel this good? How could one night of indulgence shatter everything you thought you knew about yourself? You were supposed to be disciplined, grounded — yet here you were, in the bed of a woman whose age was closer to your mother’s than your own, surrendering to desires you didn’t even know you had.

She inserts two digits inside you, pumping her fingers fast inside your walls. As you gripped hard on the sheets, and screamed into the pillow, sevika took it as a chance to kiss your still dripping cunt.

The older woman pumped inside you as her tongue pampered your throbbing cunt. You were an absolute fucking mess for her — moaning, trembling, and falling apart completely. Whimpers spilled from your lips as your back arched, your ass higher on the air, every inch of you succumbing to her control.

If it were anyone else, the names she called you would’ve made your skin crawl. The degrading words—slut, whore, plaything—would have sent you running out the door without a second thought. But with Sevika? Somehow, they only made you melt further, igniting a fire within that left you craving more.

Everytime she spoke it's like your pussy got wetter, if that was even physically possible.

"God... harder, please." you pleaded, with desperation. The sound drew a low satisfied chuckle from her. You were so needy for her snd she absolutely loved every second of it.

Of course she obliged — how could she resist? She loved seeing you like this, completely undone beneath her touch, reveling in a way she made you feel so utterly and undeniably good.

A few more slow, deliberate thrusts and flicks of her tongue and fingers, you came again for what felt like the hundredth time that night, your body trembling with each wave of pleasure.

Safe to say, you had the best night of your life.

[domm1etae]

hybrid biology

f!reader x yunho x san x jongho

smut | mdni

4.6k

Y/N adopts three hybrids—Jongho (a bear), San (a cat), and Yunho (a dog). One night, they request to suck on her breasts to help them sleep, citing their hybrid biology. Though surprised, Y/N agrees, leading to an intense and intimate encounter that ends in smut with all three hybrids

nsfw tags under

f/m/m/m, 3some, hybrids, oral fixation, breast sucking, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, vaginal sex, soft dom, handjob, oral sex, penetration, praise kink, dirty talk, aftercare, begging, deep throat, hair pulling and moooore

When you woke up that morning with the simple intention to adopt a hybrid, you had no idea you'd leave the shelter with three—Jongho, the brown bear, San, the black cat, and Yunho, the golden retriever. Initially, you had imagined adopting just one companion, someone to keep you company, but the moment you met these three, something just clicked.

Jongho had stood stoically by the shelter gate, his brown fur gleaming in the sunlight as his eyes scanned you with quiet curiosity. He hadn’t been overly affectionate or eager to please like the others, but something about his calm presence grounded you. The caretaker had warned you that bear hybrids were more independent and liked their space, but that didn’t dissuade you.

San, on the other hand, was immediately drawn to you. He had padded over with fluid grace, his tail swishing behind him as he flashed you a grin so full of warmth that it melted your heart instantly. His black ears twitched as he circled you, brushing his shoulder against your legs. "You seem nice," he had purred, glancing up at you with gleaming eyes. "I wouldn’t mind going home with you." That statement was sealed with a playful wink that left your cheeks burning.

And then there was Yunho. The shy, golden retriever hybrid had peeked at you from behind the caretaker's leg, his floppy ears nearly hiding his face as his tail wagged nervously. He barely spoke a word at first, and it took you kneeling down to his level and offering your hand for him to even come forward. When he finally did, though, the way his eyes lit up made it clear he was the one who needed you the most.

Against all logic, you couldn’t choose between them. Somehow, all three fit together, balancing each other’s energies in ways that left you intrigued. They complemented each other’s personalities so well, you figured, why not? So you left the shelter with not one, but three hybrids trailing behind you.

Life with them quickly became a whirlwind of discovery. Each day revealed new facets of their personalities. Jongho preferred to lounge around the house, occasionally grumbling when San’s playful antics got in the way of his naps. His deep, rumbling voice made it clear that he was the one to set the pace in the household. “You don’t always have to be so hyper, you know,” he would murmur from his spot on the couch, barely lifting his head to meet San’s mischievous grin.

San, of course, would simply roll his eyes. "You’re such a grump, Jongho! Loosen up a little. She likes it when we play with her." Then he would dart off, his black tail flicking behind him as he padded toward you, demanding cuddles.

Yunho was always the quiet observer, watching the interactions between his friends with wide, thoughtful eyes. He rarely initiated conversation, but you always felt his presence nearby. Whether you were cooking, cleaning, or simply sitting on the couch, you’d feel the soft brush of his golden fur or hear his gentle footsteps approaching. He never asked for anything, but his proximity said it all—he found comfort in being near you.

The day had been good, long but fulfilling. You had shown the boys to their new room, helping them settle in, and they seemed content with their new surroundings. The bond between the four of you was growing, but you hadn’t realized how much until later that night.

Fatigue began to weigh you down, and after a quick goodnight, you excused yourself to your room. "Alright, guys. I’m heading to bed. You can stay up, but don’t forget to turn off the TV when you’re done," you said, giving them a tired smile.

Jongho gave a slow nod from his spot on the floor, where he lay sprawled out comfortably, while San stretched lazily on the couch, tail flicking lazily. Yunho, as usual, hovered in the background, his ears twitching but saying nothing.

Sleep came easily once you curled up under your blanket. But sometime in the dead of night, a soft knock at your door pulled you from the depths of slumber. Groggily, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as your door creaked open. All three hybrids stood there, framed by the dim light from the hallway. Jongho, as usual, was unreadable, his face betraying nothing but his brown ears twitching slightly. San fidgeted, his tail wrapped around his leg as if he was debating whether or not to speak, while Yunho, poor shy Yunho, was hiding half his face behind his floppy ears.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, voice still thick with sleep.

Jongho said nothing, his eyes glancing away as if he wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic. San was the first to break the awkward silence. “N-No! Not really, but…” He trailed off, shifting nervously on his feet, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Yunho finally whispered, his voice barely audible as he stared at the floor.

Your brows furrowed in concern, a pit forming in your stomach. What was going on? Had you done something wrong? Were they unhappy? “What is it?” you asked again, your voice soft but firm, not wanting to pressure them but needing answers.

Silence followed, the weight of it pressing down on you as the boys exchanged awkward glances. Jongho, who normally radiated confidence, was uncharacteristically still. His tail, which usually swayed lazily behind him, had stopped entirely, and his eyes were glued to the ground. He looked like a statue except for his twitching ears. Yunho was practically cowering behind him, and you could see San’s tail swishing nervously.

“Oh my God, just say it,” San finally muttered under his breath, looking frustrated with the stalemate. He took a deep breath, his cheeks flushing slightly as he forced the words out. “We need your help… to fall asleep.”

Your brain stalled for a moment. That was it? You had been expecting something much worse, given how tense the air had felt. “That’s it?” You chuckled softly, relieved that it wasn’t something more serious. “Okay, how can I help?”

But your question seemed to make things worse. Jongho rolled his eyes, and Yunho looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. San, however, continued, his words fumbling awkwardly, “W-We need to…”

“S-Suck on y-your…” Jongho continued, still unable to meet your eyes.

“Your boobs,” San finished, sounding almost bored with the situation, though the flush of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. His eyes darted away as he scratched behind one ear nervously.

“You what?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Your voice was a higher pitch than normal, and your eyes widened in shock. Surely, they were joking, right?

San’s shoulders slumped as your stunned reaction lingered. He mumbled, “Told you she’d freak out…”

Yunho, who had been silent for most of the interaction, shifted uncomfortably, pulling at his ears out of nervousness. “I knew it,” he muttered softly. “I told you she wouldn’t like it.”

“Wait.” You blinked, finally coming to your senses as they turned to leave the room. Curiosity now mixed with confusion. “Can you explain what you mean?”

The three hybrids exchanged surprised glances, clearly not expecting your willingness to listen. After a moment, Jongho sighed, taking the lead with a straightforward explanation. “Our biology is… different from humans. For some reason, we need to suck on…” he gestured vaguely toward your chest, avoiding eye contact again. “Tits. It helps us sleep. We don’t understand it either, so don’t ask. It’s just how we’re wired.”

The more you listened, the more bizarre it seemed, but part of you couldn’t ignore that it made a strange kind of sense. Jongho had tried to nap several times throughout the day but had seemed restless, tossing and turning. San had been unusually clingy, more than usual, while Yunho… well, he had always hovered, but it seemed more intense lately.

You would have to admit, they were all incredibly attractive, and the thought of being intimate with them sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if you were ready to be vulnerable with them like this, especially since you hadn’t known them for very long.

Yunho’s soft voice broke the silence again. “You don’t have to do anything. We’ll figure something else out.”

“Sorry to bother—” San started, but you interrupted him, surprising even yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

All three hybrids looked utterly flabbergasted, their eyes wide as they processed what you’d just said.

“Really?” San asked, voice filled with disbelief.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest. You had made your decision. “Really.” With a small movement, you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest to them.

For a moment, none of them moved, their eyes locked onto your exposed skin as if they couldn’t believe it. Then, with barely contained excitement, San and Yunho practically shoved each other, both eager to be the first to reach you. Jongho hung back, watching with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place.

San was the first to touch you, his warm hands cupping your breasts gently, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned in closer. His usually playful demeanor had softened, replaced by a kind of reverence that caught you off guard. "You're really okay with this?" he asked, his voice low, almost uncertain. His fingers brushed across your skin, sending a shiver through you.

You nodded, your breath hitching. "I am. Just… go slow."

San’s lips quirked into a small, relieved smile. “Of course.”

Yunho, who had been lingering in the background, hesitated before moving forward. His eyes were filled with nervousness, but there was something deeper—longing, maybe? He knelt beside you, his large golden ears twitching as he leaned closer. His hand trembled slightly as he touched your other breast, his touch featherlight, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you.

"Is this okay?" Yunho whispered, his eyes darting up to meet yours, wide and innocent.

You gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Yunho. You're doing great."

Jongho, meanwhile, stood back, watching the scene unfold with his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes flicked between San, Yunho, and you with a hint of something… possessive? You weren’t sure. Finally, with a sigh, he walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, leaning in close. His presence, though not as immediate as the other two, was commanding. He didn’t rush to touch you, instead resting his hand on your thigh, waiting patiently.

“Don’t think we’re letting them have all the fun,” Jongho said quietly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. His thumb rubbed slow circles against your skin, his eyes finally locking with yours.

You felt your pulse quicken at the intensity of his gaze, but before you could respond, San had begun trailing kisses along your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. “You taste as good as I imagined,” he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing your neck before moving lower.

At the same time, Yunho’s shy demeanor melted into focus as he mirrored San’s movements, his lips brushing your other breast. His breath was shaky as he parted his lips, finally taking your nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his mouth, combined with his soft, hesitant sucks, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

San was a little more confident, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he took it between his lips. His playful nature was still there, but it was tempered with care as he nipped gently, his eyes flicking up to watch your reactions. “Is this good?” he asked, voice husky as he sucked gently, his ears twitching in satisfaction when he heard you moan.

Your back arched slightly, pressing yourself into their mouths as soft moans escaped your lips. The sensation of their mouths on you, one gentle and unsure, the other teasing and confident, had you reeling. You were acutely aware of every touch, every flick of their tongues, and the tension building low in your belly.

Jongho watched, his expression hard to read, but there was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. He squeezed your thigh lightly, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’re doing good. Just relax.” His voice was a soothing contrast to the intensity building between you and the other two hybrids, and you found yourself sinking deeper into the moment.

San pulled away slightly, his lips glistening as he gave a playful tug on your nipple. “You’re so sensitive. I could do this all night,” he purred, nipping gently before sucking again, harder this time.

Yunho, still a little hesitant, began to follow his lead, his mouth moving more confidently now. He sucked gently, then licked, then sucked again, his ears flicking with every little sound you made. He wasn’t as bold as San, but his focus was intense, like he was determined to make you feel good.

Your moans grew louder, your body reacting to their ministrations as your thighs rubbed together, desperate for friction. The pleasure was building steadily, each flick of their tongues sending sparks of electricity through you. Your head tilted back, eyes closing as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Jongho’s hand slid from your thigh up to your waist, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate circles. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You want more, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and knowing.

You nodded, unable to form words as San’s lips pulled away, a smirk playing on his face as he watched your reaction. “Of course she does,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He gave your nipple one last playful nip before sitting back, his eyes dark with desire.

Yunho, however, lingered a little longer, his mouth still latched to your breast, his soft golden ears pressed flat against his head as he sucked gently, his focus entirely on you. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, slid down to your stomach, hesitating just above your waistband.

Jongho finally stood, his presence looming as he moved closer, his hand still resting on your waist as he gently pulled Yunho back. “Let’s not overwhelm her all at once,” he said softly, though there was a clear command in his tone. His eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You ready for more?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The anticipation had your body trembling, and the way Jongho looked at you made your knees weak. “Yes,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Jongho smiled—a slow, predatory grin—as he guided you to lie back fully on the bed. “Good.”

With careful precision, Jongho climbed onto the bed, his large hands easily lifting your legs over his shoulders as he positioned himself between them. His breath was hot against your thighs as he spread soft kisses along your skin, teasing you, while his fingers lightly traced your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

San, now sitting beside you, chuckled as he watched. “Lucky Jongho. He always gets what he wants,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Yunho, still kneeling by the bed, watched with wide eyes, his expression torn between awe and nervousness. His hands fidgeted in his lap, but he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked onto the scene in front of him.

“Shut up, San,” Jongho grumbled, but his focus remained on you, his lips trailing up to your inner thigh. He pressed a kiss dangerously close to your center, his breath hot and teasing. “You’re already so wet,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as if the sight of you was affecting him as much as it was affecting you.

Your breath hitched as you felt his fingers slide down to your entrance, teasingly brushing against you. “Jongho—” you gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets as the anticipation mounted.

Without another word, Jongho’s mouth descended onto you, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe over your slit before settling on your clit. The shock of pleasure that shot through you made you cry out, your back arching off the bed as his tongue worked circles over your sensitive flesh.

San smirked, his fingers reaching out to gently tug at one of your nipples, earning a whimper from you. “Looks like someone’s enjoying herself,” he teased, his voice low and husky. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was an unmistakable hunger in them.

Yunho, quiet as always, watched intently, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the sight of you writhing under Jongho’s ministrations. His lips parted slightly, and for the first time, you noticed the bulge straining against his pants. He shifted uncomfortably but didn’t say a word.

Jongho, meanwhile, had no intention of stopping. His tongue flicked expertly over your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. His fingers slid inside you easily, curling in just the right way that had you gasping, your hands flying to his hair as you pulled him closer.

“I-I’m close,” you gasped, your body trembling as you felt the climax building inside you, threatening to snap at any moment.

But just as you reached the peak of your pleasure, Jongho pulled away, his mouth and fingers leaving you empty and aching. You let out a desperate whine, your body shaking with need. “No, please—” you begged, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as the denial of release hit you like a freight train.

Jongho smirked, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched your desperate reaction. “Not yet,” he said simply, his voice thick with lust. “We’re not done with you.”

Behind him, San and Yunho were already moving. San had stripped off his shirt, revealing his lean, muscular torso, his cat ears twitching in excitement. “On your knees, sweetheart,” he purred, his voice dripping with seduction as he guided you up onto all fours. “Time to give you what you really want.” San’s hands were firm yet gentle as he guided you onto your hands and knees, his movements deliberate and slow. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he positioned himself in front of you, his eyes dark and filled with anticipation. His cock stood hard and ready, twitching slightly as he stroked himself a few times while watching you.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” San purred, his voice smooth and teasing. His words sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core, your body reacting to his authoritative tone.

Behind you, Yunho’s presence was quieter, but just as intense. His hands trembled slightly as he moved into position, his soft golden retriever ears drooping as he knelt behind you. There was a noticeable tension in him—nervousness mixed with an overwhelming desire to please. His hand rested on your hip, his touch featherlight.

San gripped the back of your head gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he positioned his cock near your mouth. “Open up, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding.

You did as he asked, parting your lips and allowing San to slide his length into your mouth. He let out a groan as he pushed deeper, his hand threading through your hair to guide you at a steady pace. His cock filled your mouth, the weight of him heavy on your tongue as you sucked, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take him deeper.

“Good girl,” San moaned, his hips starting to move in slow, shallow thrusts. He didn’t push too hard, letting you adjust to him at your own pace, but the satisfied growl that escaped him let you know he was enjoying every second.

Yunho, still behind you, hesitated for a moment longer. His large, warm hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, his touch shaky but reverent. “I-I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of San’s soft groans.

You moaned around San’s cock, your body trembling in anticipation of Yunho’s next move. His hand guided the tip of his length to your entrance, his breath shaky as he slowly, carefully pushed inside you. The stretch was delicious, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of being filled by him. He was gentle, almost too gentle, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he buried himself to the hilt.

Yunho let out a soft gasp, his forehead resting against your back for a moment as he adjusted to the sensation of being inside you. “You feel… so good,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with awe and disbelief.

The combination of San’s cock in your mouth and Yunho’s inside you was overwhelming in the best way possible. You tried to focus on sucking San, your tongue swirling around his length as he moved in and out of your mouth, but the way Yunho was slowly thrusting into you made it hard to concentrate. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, building steadily with each movement.

San’s grip on your hair tightened slightly as he thrust deeper, his pace picking up as he got more comfortable. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. “You look so good with your mouth full of me.”

Behind you, Yunho was picking up his pace too, his nervousness fading as he got lost in the pleasure of being inside you. His thrusts were slow but deep, each one hitting just the right spot, making you moan around San’s cock. Your body trembled, caught between the pleasure of being taken from both ends.

Jongho, who had been watching from the side with a hungry, possessive gaze, finally moved forward. His presence was commanding, his dark eyes locked on you as he stood beside the bed, stroking himself slowly. He hadn’t touched you yet, but the way his gaze roamed over your body made you shiver with anticipation.

“You’re taking them so well,” Jongho rumbled, his voice low and rough. His eyes flicked to San, then Yunho, before settling back on you. “But you’re not finished yet.”

San groaned, his hips thrusting faster as he neared his peak. His fingers dug into your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth harder. “Shit, you’re amazing,” he gasped, his breath ragged as he felt himself getting closer to release.

Yunho’s thrusts grew more frantic behind you, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he lost himself in the feeling of being buried inside you. He was quiet, but the way his breath hitched and the soft gasps that escaped him let you know he was just as close to the edge.

You moaned around San’s cock, your body trembling as the pleasure built up inside you, threatening to overwhelm you. The sensation of Yunho thrusting into you, combined with San’s cock filling your mouth, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“I-I’m close,” Yunho whispered, his voice trembling with the effort to hold back.

San was right there with him, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep into your mouth one last time, groaning loudly as he came. His release spilled down your throat, and you swallowed it eagerly, moaning around him as your own orgasm built to its peak.

Yunho’s grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you one last time, a soft cry escaping his lips as he came, filling you with his warmth. The feeling of him releasing inside you, combined with San’s release in your mouth, was enough to push you over the edge. You moaned loudly, your body trembling as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

San pulled out of your mouth with a satisfied groan, his thumb brushing over your lips as he smirked down at you. “You did so good, sweetheart.”

Yunho, still behind you, pulled out slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he sat back on his heels, his face flushed with both arousal and embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he mumbled, his golden ears drooping slightly.

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No, Yunho… you were perfect.”

Jongho, who had been watching the entire time, finally moved forward, his expression dark and hungry as he climbed onto the bed. “Now it’s my turn,” he growled, his large hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself behind you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jongho thrust into you, his cock filling you completely in one swift motion. You cried out, your body jolting from the force of his thrust. He was rougher than Yunho, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pounded into you with a relentless rhythm.

“God, you’re so tight,” Jongho groaned, his voice deep and guttural as he buried himself inside you again and again. His thrusts were hard and fast, each one pushing you closer to the edge once more. The sensation of being filled so completely by him was overwhelming, your body trembling with pleasure.

San and Yunho watched, their eyes dark with lust as they sat back, their chests heaving as they recovered from their own releases. San’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, while Yunho’s face was still flushed with embarrassment, though there was a hint of desire in his gaze as he watched Jongho take you.

Jongho’s thrusts grew more frantic, his breath ragged as he neared his release. His hands gripped your waist so tightly you were sure there would be bruises, but the pleasure he was giving you outweighed any pain. You could feel yourself nearing the edge again, your body shaking as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good,” Jongho growled, his voice rough with lust. His hips slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he came, his release spilling inside you. The feeling of him filling you was enough to push you over the edge again, and you cried out, your body trembling as your second orgasm washed over you.

Jongho stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Finally, he pulled out slowly, his hands releasing their grip on your waist as he sat back, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You collapsed onto the bed, completely spent, your body trembling from the intensity of everything that had just happened. Your mind was hazy, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you struggled to stay conscious.

San chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Yunho, still flushed and shy, reached out to pull the covers over you, his hands gentle as he tucked you in. “You should rest now. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Jongho lay down beside you, his large body enveloping you as he pulled you into his arms. “Sleep,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing now that the heat of the moment had passed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Exhaustion overtook you, and before long, you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and content in the arms of your hybrids.

[mrkis]

bad habits. (m.l)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. smut word count. 6.5k

❝you know you're my favourite.❞

content warnings. explicit content, toxic behaviour from reader and mark, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, indications of dealer!mark, manhandling, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, mean!mark, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie.

Don’t look at him. 

You mentally tell yourself as you tear your eyes away from Mark who enters the house party with a girl at his side, capturing a glimpse in your peripheral vision the way his hand rests at the bottom of her back as he leads her through the crowded room.

Stop looking at him.

You tell yourself again when your gaze inevitably draws back to him, find yourself staring at him from across the room, watching as he greets his friends with boyish handshakes and welcoming pats on the back before he settles down on the couch once they made room for him, the girl following closely behind and smoothly sliding her perfectly manicured hands on his thigh.

Stop.

Your tongue prods at your cheek in annoyance as you watch how close they lean into each other to speak, how his words seem to make her giggle and she tucks her hair behind her ears when he smiles at her, clearly enjoying his obvious flirtatious comments and your grip tightens around the cup you’ve been nursing the entire night, pulling your eyes away from the scene when his gaze finally meets yours.

The relationship you have with Mark is something you have never experienced before, but a relationship you weren’t too keen on letting go of anytime soon. Mark’s a friend; a friend who you sometimes rely on when things go south, a friend who picks you up in his car for late-night takeout runs and smoke weed until the sun rises, and a friend who you actively sleep with just to get rid of that dull ache between your thighs. 

You hate how he knows your body, sometimes even better than you know yourself. You hate how easy it is for him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, igniting something within you that leaves you breathless and yearning for more. You hate how his touch leaves you desperate, craving for more than just his hands. You hate how his eyes alone can have you on your knees, the heavy weight of his cock resting on your tongue.

You can’t help but think that you have some sort of effect on him too, finding it amusing how easy it was to get him alone with you, to make him drop whatever he was doing just to be in your presence. It does, admittedly, bring you a lot of satisfaction in knowing that you may have some kind of hold over him like he does with you.

Although, there have been a handful of moments where he has ignored or rejected you, much like tonight.

You were the one that had invited him to come to this party when your best friend had first mentioned it.

You were the one that brought it up to him during an intimate encounter in the backseat of his car, asking him to accompany you only to be shut down and told that he wasn’t interested in some lame house party, and instead had something else planned for that night.

Before you even arrived at the party, you saw the Snapchat story posted by the girl who is currently clinging to his side like a leech. The image was blurry, but you could make out her holding two joints, with a caption thanking Mark and promising a fun night, while tagging his username. At first, you figured it was a deal, being aware that Mark sometimes sells his weed on the side for extra cash, but you never expected that the ‘something else’ he had planned would involve bringing her to a party he rejected coming to in the first place.

It honestly made you fucking pissed.

You mentally chastise yourself to get a grip and you scoff, tilting your head back and gulping down the rest of your drink, the alcohol searing your throat and momentarily distracting you from your own fiery emotions. You lower the cup, swiping the back of your hand at the corner of your lips, wiping away any lingering traces of liquid just as your best friend nears you with a drunken flush.

“Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Yunjin exclaims as she flings her arms around your shoulders for a hug, but her embrace falters as she notices the expression on your face. “What’s happened?”

“I’m out,” You say, gesturing towards your empty cup with a tight lipped smile, trying to hold yourself back from admitting—“Oh, and Mark’s here.”

“I thought he said no to coming?” Yunjin’s brows knit together in confusion and she glances over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mark and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but her expression quickly shifts to one of exasperation as she rolls her eyes and directs her attention back to you. “Are we really surprised? Come on, you know exactly what he’s like!”

“I know.” You hate it.

“He’s always been like this!”

“I know.” You really hate it.

Yunjin takes a moment to stare at you before she sighs, arms crossing over her front, “Yet it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re thinking about him right now.”

She’s got you there. “I know…”

Yunjin firmly places her hands on your cheeks, gripping with enough force to have you stare straight into her eyes, “Forget about him. He’s just some guy you’re sleeping with occasionally, and you know what that means?” You blink in response. “It means you’re single and free to sleep with anyone you want! We’re here to have fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. Her words bring a genuine smile to your face and you nod in agreement, determined to not let something so silly ruin your night. 

Yunjin wastes no time when she leaves, quickly returning back to you with fresh drinks and tapping her cup against yours with a mischievous grin. You both take a few hearty sips, allowing the alcohol to course through your veins and lighten your mood, head buzzing as she slips her fingers through yours to tug you away from your current position.

You mingle with a few of her other friends you’re familiar with, diving deep in conversations, laughing at jokes shared among the group, throwing flirtatious comments here and there when someone shows clear interest in you.

But you weren’t interested in them. 

Not at all.

Not when you can still see Mark in your line of vision, who remains his position on the couch, engrossed in his own conversation with his friends and the girl who has yet to leave his side, seemingly unwilling to leave.

Your jaw locks tight when Mark occasionally meets your gaze, rubbing his palms on his thighs and shifting in his seat, manspreading as he relaxes back against the cushions. Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to roll them when the girl beside him snuggles in closer, offering a smile that could make anyone swoon, but he’s not even looking at her now.

He’s fully looking at you.

Mark’s head tilts to the side, the corner of his lips lifting into a subtle smile, leaving you with a mix of conflicting emotions that makes your head spin. On one hand, there’s a part of you that wants to wipe that look off of his face, fueled by your annoyance and frustration. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t help but be drawn to that smile, wanting to bask in the attention and keep his gaze fixed on you and you only.

A bitter taste lingers on the tip of your tongue as Mark’s gaze is taken away from you, watching as he leans his head down to listen attentively to the girl who whispers in his ear, her fingertips resting against his jawline to keep him in close. A forced laugh escapes your lips, the sound tinged with bitterness and your tongue prods at the inside of your cheek.

You rip your attention away from the pair, redirecting your focus to Yunjin who looks at you with a confused expression, clearly bewildered by your sudden laughter and you try to shake off that ugly feeling that has settled within you, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and Yunjin spots that immediately. 

She calls out your name softly, wanting to question your odd behaviour but her words come to a halt when the guy beside you grabs the attention of the group. Was it Dohyun? Dowon? You can’t remember, and frankly you don’t really care enough to remember. But you remain quiet as he speaks, asking if anyone knows where he can purchase weed at the party, if there is anyone who knows who he can buy from as he assures that he has the cash.

Mark. The name flickers in your mind almost instantly and you meet Yunjin’s gaze, watching as she subtly shakes her head at you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“I know someone,” You announce and Yunjin’s shoulders sag as she sighs deeply. You ignore her reaction as you extend your hand towards the guy, “Give me the money. I’ll go get it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks in surprise, hesitating for a moment despite already having the bills ready in the palm of his hand. “I don’t mind getting it—”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off abruptly, curling your fingers around the bills to take into your own hands. You turn on your heels, making a beeline directly towards Mark as you slip through the crowd, pushing through the bodies with determination and fire coursing through your veins, fingers grasping the money tighter just as you get closer, eyes locked in on Mark as he watches you near.

As you stand in front of him, your gaze involuntarily shifts to the girl by his side, tongue clicking against your teeth with bitterness tinging your thoughts as you observe her shuffling closer. Her hand is now resting on Mark’s bicep, fingers sinking into the fabric of his hoodie. 

The sight alone stirs a mixture of annoyance, frustration and jealousy in the pit of your stomach and in the moment, you find yourself in an internal struggle to either make some snarky or bitchy comment in hopes to get Mark to understand how pissed off you truly are, or to continue with what you were originally here for.

“Pre-rolls.” Is what you say with a monotone and direct voice, deciding to get straight to the point, extending your hand as you show Mark the money, making your intention clear.

Mark’s eyes briefly lower to the money before returning to meet yours, “For you or for someone else?”

“Does it matter?” You reply back sharply. “Pre-rolled joints, please.”

“For someone else then,” You hear Mark mutter beneath his breath as he digs inside the pocket of his pants to pull out exactly what you needed, but he’s quick to pull it out of reach as you go to snatch it from his grasp. Your frustration grows within you as you glare at him, but he takes no notice of your expression as he asks, “Are you smoking too?”

“Obviously.”

You watch as Mark reaches back into his pocket and your demeanour shifts slightly as he pulls out another batch of pre-rolls, ones you’re all too familiar with as you see the pink coloured skins. He knows you prefer spliffs over joints. You want to continue being annoyed and angry with how he knows you all too well but yet, deep down, your heart can’t help but thump wildly in your chest and a flutter of warmth swirls in the pit of your stomach at the seemingly thoughtful gesture.

You bite down on your tongue, not wanting to let him know how much that simple action affected you so much, “I don’t have enough money for two.”

“You don’t pay for yours anyways.” Mark states matter-of-factly as he takes the money for one pre-roll and hands you the two. It’s true, you think, curling your fingers around the two pre-rolls he has given you. You’ve never paid him when asking for a smoke, he doesn’t let you pay him.

“You giving out freebies?” The girl beside him speaks up for the first time, her tone playful as she decides to jump in on the conversation. She nudges Mark’s shoulder as she teases, “Pink skins too? How come I don’t get that treatment?”

“Because I’m his favourite,” You find yourself replying before your brain could register it, sending her a forced tight lipped smile as she looks up at you in surprise, not expecting you to be the one to respond. But you couldn’t care less. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I was talking more about the pink skins,” She snips back at you and your tongue prods at your cheek once again, fighting off the urge to laugh as she turns to look at Mark as she smiles. “I like pink.”

“They’re for her.” Mark says as he gestures towards you with a nod of his head. The girl’s face drops, her smile completely fading and a sense of satisfaction washes over you. You offer her a sweet, sickly smile in return before leaving the scene, heading straight back to your group who are patiently waiting for you to come back. 

Yunjin comes to stand beside you as you hand the joint over to Dowon (you managed to overhear his name as you were nearing closer to the group.) and he grins in victory, thanking you with a wet, dramatic smooch to your cheek before lighting it up, taking a drag and passing it around the group.

Yunjin leans her head down, disappointment clear in her tone as she speaks to you in hushed whispers, ridiculing you for suggesting Mark in the first place, but her tone soon shifts to curiosity and wonder, wanting to know what happened between you and Mark, and what you both had spoken about.

You were partially honest with your answer, replying that the only topic of conversation was about the deal and you were able to get exactly what you wanted and more as you showed her your own little gift. She grins, bumping her shoulder to yours proudly before jumping in conversation with the others, taking the joint out of another's hand while you tuck yours away in your purse, saving it for later.

You had enough. 

The irritation you felt becomes unbearable, unable to be masked by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

The sight of Mark and the girl still in the same position on the couch; sitting close, sharing whispers and smiles. It gnaws at you despite your failed attempts to bury them with distractions, dancing with others, kissing others with lingering touches.

You’ve reached your breaking point. 

You wish you were drunk enough to ignore everything and continue on with the night, but unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. 

You wanted to leave. 

Most importantly, you wanted to leave with him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It would certainly be easier to leave without him or even find someone else to go home with—Yunjin or some random stranger. But honestly, you couldn’t care less about the easy options. You never cared. 

Abandoning your half-empty cup without a second thought, you leave Yunjin behind, not even bothering to fill her in on what you’re about to do. The sound of her questioning fades into the background as you make your way towards the living room area with a determined stride. 

As you approach closer, a sense of tunnel vision takes over; everything else seems to fade into the background too, sounds becoming distant whispers or muted, completely overshadowed by your own thoughts and emotions.

You begin to second guess how this upcoming conversation would go, if Mark would actually leave with you this time if you asked. After all, he said no to coming here with you, so why would he agree to leave with you? 

You internally scowl at yourself for even thinking about something so negatively. 

He’s wrapped around your finger just as much as you’re wrapped around his.

“I’m leaving,” You declare as soon as you stand in front of Mark, not even giving him enough time to react to your sudden appearance. He remains unbothered, his gaze meeting yours as he lifts a soda can to his lips. His eyebrow raises in response and without missing a beat, you continue, “Come home with me.”

The girl sitting beside Mark reacts with utter disbelief, her mouth dropping open as she scoffs at your audacity, eyebrows knitting together at your words but you’re unfazed by her reaction. It doesn’t make you feel bad at all, not as your focus remains on Mark, waiting for his response.

And in that moment, you feel a sense of victory and satisfaction swell in your chest when Mark gives a simple nod of his head and rises from the couch, reaching in his pocket for his car keys as he bids his friends a goodbye.

“Wait!” The girl exclaims as she interrupts, tone filled with desperation and her hand shoots out, gripping Mark’s upper arm tightly, halting his movements. Her eyes shift towards you at first, giving you a harsh look before turning her attention back to Mark, “Are you serious right now? You were my ride here. How am I supposed to get home?”

You hold yourself back, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from responding, though your annoyance is clearly visible on your face. You keep silent, watching as Mark’s face remains impassive, retrieving his car keys from his pocket.

“That’s not my problem,” He states bluntly, removing her grip from his arm without hesitation, words devoid of any sympathy. “You’ll figure it out.”

The girl’s jaw drops even further, shocked at Mark’s sudden change in attitude and tone. A smug grin finds its way onto your lips, unable to contain that satisfaction bubbling within you and you wave your fingers in her direction as Mark’s arm finds its way around your waist, resting his hand on your hip as he leads you out of the area.

As you’re leaving the building, Yunjin’s disappointed gaze lingers on you, but still mouths for you to be careful and gestures for you to call her when you get home. You nod in acknowledgement, blowing her a kiss before turning away and leaving her behind.

The cold air brushes against your burning skin, but your mind is preoccupied with a whirlwind of angry thoughts and unanswered questions, the scowl is clear on your face. Mark leads the way, guiding you towards his parked car in silence.

It’s deafening and you hate it, intensifying the frustrations that simmer within you. You’re getting angrier.

You climb into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with enough force it rattles the car. Mark, who seems completely oblivious to your anger or just isn’t taking any notice, takes his place in the driver's seat, and his ongoing silence fuels your irritation even more.

Without sparing you a glance, Mark inserts the key into the ignition and twists it, setting the car’s engine rumbling to life. His attention is on the dashboard as he presses a few buttons to turn on the radio, playing a song you’re all too familiar with but not in the mood to vibe along with like you usually would.

Your frustration grows further when Mark casually drapes one arm around the back of your seat, focussing behind the vehicle as he reverses and then pulls out of the parking space, the car gradually gaining momentum as it merges onto the road. 

Setting back into your seat, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your gaze alternates between the side of Mark’s face and the road ahead. You’re aware that it would be best to stay quiet and allow yourself to calm down before questioning him, yet the curiosity mixed with annoyance within you refused to be silenced. You bite down on your tongue hard. 

You can’t. 

“Thought you weren’t coming tonight,” You finally speak, unable to hold back your words. The bitterness seeps into your voice as you continue, “I thought you weren’t interested in ‘some lame house party’.”

Mark’s response comes with a nonchalant tone that irks you, “I’m not,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I had things planned, but plans changed.”

“So you decided to come to the party, which I invited you to, with a girl?” You question, unable to hide the tinge of jealousy in your voice.

Mark glances at you briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. His audacity strikes a nerve and you release a dry laugh, your tongue prodding at your cheek in disbelief.

“Sora was one of the people that I was dealing with tonight,” Mark explains, his words casual. “Donghyuck texted me while I was at her house that he was at this party and wanted to buy weed. I told him I’d drop by and give him some.”

Sora. Her name makes your face scrunch up in displeasure. “Right. Then you somehow ended up coming to the party with Sora and stayed for the majority of the night.”

Mark grins, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, “She was actually planning to go to the party after she saw me. But once she found out that I was heading there, she asked if she could ride with me. I drove her, and when I realised Donghyuck wasn’t outside, I was going to leave. Then Sora said she’d help me find him inside, so I went in.”

You mutter under your breath, the words escaping in a frustrated whisper, “Still doesn’t explain why you stayed.”

“I got caught up with friends,” Mark responds simply, his hand reaching over the centre console to rest on top of your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. His touch attempts to sooth you, his voice softening. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” You lie through your teeth. “Just wish you would’ve at least told me you were coming or came up and said hello when you arrived.”

“I’m sorry,” His apology is minimal, but his tone sounds sincere as his thumb draws circles on your skin. ”Like I said, I wasn’t planning on staying.” Mark takes a quick glance over at you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “You’re wearing that dress I like, baby… walking up to you and saying hello wouldn’t be the first thing I’d do.”

You hum at that, twisting in your seat to face him, “And what would you do?”

“The same thing I did the last time I saw you at a party.” 

The low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and your thighs squeeze together to relieve that sudden ache in your cunt, vividly remembering that night where he tugged you upstairs and fucked you in someones bathroom, not caring that the mirror rattled against the walls and belongings of all sorts had fallen off the counter, creating a mess on the floor that neither of you bothered to clean up when leaving. 

“I don’t remember,” You lie, giving him a glossy smile. “I think you have to remind me.”

Mark looks out into the open road, “Do you see a bathroom anywhere?”

“Funny,” You roll your eyes, but you lean over to brush your fingers over his crotch. “You can just remind me here—”

“We’re not fucking in my car,” His words make your eyebrows raise in shock, your mouth ajar as you scoff before ripping your hand away. Mark smiles, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Last time we were in here, you ruined my seats. The shit cost too much to clean, baby.”

You’re bitter as you reply, “You didn’t seem to complain before when you were desperate to make me cum over and over again.”

Mark’s laughter fills the car, his tongue clicking against his teeth as he shakes your head at your bitter attitude. The sound gets on your nerves immensely. You scoff, your arms crossing tightly over your chest, and you direct your gaze out the window, intentionally ignoring him for the rest of the journey.

As the car turns onto your street and your home comes into view, you reach for the seatbelt. Once Mark parks the car outside your house, you swiftly unbuckle and slip out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut with a force that rattles it. The sound of Mark’s laughter only further irritates you.

With your house key in hand, you unlock the door and step inside, feeling Mark’s presence behind you. His warmth brushes against your back, but you refuse to acknowledge it, striding towards your room. Standing in front of your vanity table, you remove your sparkly earrings, your focus solely on the task at hand as you chew your inner cheek with a scowl.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” Mark drawls, his voice reaching your ears. You raise your head to meet his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He leans against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips, despite the feigned upset tone in his voice. He continues, “You told me to come home with you, and now you’re giving me this treatment? All because I wouldn’t fuck you in my car? You’re cold, baby.”

You huff quietly, even though you know deep down that Mark’s words hold some truth. You continue to stay quiet, unclasping the necklace from around your neck and placing it back in its designated spot.

Mark’s tongue pokes at his cheek as he continues, “I could’ve just stayed with Sora—”

You immediately bristle, and you whirl around to face him. “You’re not funny.”

Mark’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling. “Got you to finally talk to me, though.”

You let out a forced laugh, your hands planted firmly on your hips as you stare at Mark. “You know what? You can go. I don’t care. Go. Go back to the party and spend the rest of your night with Sora.”

“Hey,” Mark’s response is immediate as he moves towards you, standing right in front of you. His fingers reach up to grasp your jaw, the cool sensation of his rings against your warm skin. He playfully shakes your head, and a part of you wants to push him away, but you remain still, unable to resist him. “Enough, a’ight? You know I’d rather be here with you anyways.”

And you do. Deep down, you know that. But you love pushing his buttons, especially with the thrill it gives you.

Pressing further, you challenge him. “Do I really?”

Mark’s voice hums with confidence. “Of course you do. You know you’re my favourite.”

You blink, “So there are others?”

Mark sucks in a breath, his grip of your jaw tightening as a playful warning. You can’t help but grin, pleased in your ability to get under his skin so easily. “Pain in my ass, I swear.”

A giggle escapes your lips as your arms wrap around his shoulders, and his hand releases your jaw, sliding down to rest at the base of your spine. His fingers put gentle pressure, urging you closer, and you willingly comply as you allow your chest to press against his.

Your fingers curl around the hair at the nape of Mark’s neck, the grin on your lips unyielding as you continue to taunt him. “Pain in your ass, yet you still can’t get enough of me,” You then feign surprise. “Don’t tell me you like me, Mark?”

“Yeah, yeah, you wish.” Mark mutters dismissively, his head dipping down as he crushes his lips against yours in a heated kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your veins. You respond eagerly without a moment of hesitation, matching his fervour, your lips moving in perfect sync.

Mark’s hand glides up from your lower spine to firmly grip the back of your neck, keeping you pressed against him. The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you fist the material of his hoodie in your grasp, ensuring that he stays close to you. 

As the kiss deepens, you feel a gentle nip of his teeth on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp at the pinch. Your lips part, giving him an invitation for his tongue to slip inside your mouth. The taste of him, the mingling of your breath, it’s intoxicating to you, and you want more.

The force of his kisses pushing your back against your vanity table, the impact causing a few of your belongings to clatter to the ground. But you pay no mind, your focus is solely on Mark who stands between your parted thighs, his hands sliding beneath the bottom of your dress.

“Lift your hips a lil f’me.” Mark orders you, and you listen. With his fingers that hook under the band of your panties, he pulls them down in one swift movement, discarding the material carelessly to the side before his arm hooks around your back. 

You yelp in surprise as he effortlessly lifts you up from the vanity table, and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips to make sure you don’t fall, but it doesn’t matter when Mark drops you on the bed with a bounce.

Before you can fully register what happened, Mark’s hands curl around your ankle and he tugs you to the edge of the bed, and you watch with parted lips as his hand moves between your thighs to drag his middle finger through your slit.

“You’re fucking soaked…” Mark hums as he lowers himself down, gazing up at you from your parted thighs. A silent gasp leaves your lips as his two fingers sink into your tight, wet heat. “You had so much to say earlier, and now you’re quiet. Feels too good?”

“Just shut up.” You bite back, and a smile breaks out onto Mark’s face, sending you a wink before he leans down and swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, plunging his fingers into your cunt at a steady rhythm. 

Airy moans leave you as you try to watch Mark, but his free hand slowly creeps up your body and pushes down at your chest, making you fall back against the mattress with a huff. You’re reminded of the dress that’s still clinging to your body, making you regret not taking it off sooner, but all of your worries and problems are pushed to the side when you feel Mark’s drape your legs over his shoulders, closing him in.

“Fu—ah,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arches off the bed. You’re unable to use your words, lost in the feeling of Mark sucking at your clit and his fingers curling in your spongy walls, brushing over that spot that has your thighs tightening around his head. 

One hand grips the bedsheets, and your other lands on top of his hair, threading your fingers through the overgrown strands and you tug, eliciting a groan from his chest. You’re grinding your pussy against his face, desperate for more, and he doesn’t seem to mind, allowing you to use him as you please. 

Until your legs soon fall from his shoulders when Mark forces them apart, spreading you out in front of him when he feels your climax approaching, and he leans back as he watches his fingers pump into you. The speed in which his fingers move has your legs closing around his hand, and his tongue clicks against his teeth in a sound of disapproval.

“Keep them open,” Mark warns you, and when you fail to listen, his fingers slow down, causing you to glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that. What did I just say?” Your legs part, and Mark nods his head. “That’s right…” 

He picks up speed, and he drives his fingers inside your cunt, a grin playing on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on yours, staring down at your face as he leans over you. You gasp when his thumb rubs your clit for stimulation, and you immediately cum.

The squelching sound of your wetness is heard throughout the room along with your wailing, your body shakes and walls contract around his fingers. He’s laughing as he fingers you through your orgasm, watching as your body trembles and your hips rut against his hand.

You cry out in pleasure, your body shaking and your brain fuzzy as Mark fingers you through your high, and laughs as he watches you tremble, your hips rutting against his hand before you slump back, trying to catch your breath.

Mark removes his fingers from your sensitive cunt, and you watch through hazed vision as he sucks them clean. The sight alone is enough to have a surge of energy rush through your veins, and you sit up to pull him into a kiss. Mark groans when your tongue slides into his mouth, and when he kneels in between your thighs, he takes hold of your wrist and guides your hands towards his belt.

You immediately know what he wants you to do, and you comply. You unbuckle his belt hastily through hungry kisses, and make quick work of the button and zipper, tugging the material down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxers.

Usually, you would’ve completely rid him of his clothes and yourself. But on this specific night, you were too desperate to have him to go through with the task, and Mark seems to be feeling the same when he suddenly throws you around. 

You huff as the air is knocked out of your lungs when you’re flipped onto your tummy, and you turn your head to the side, cheek mushed against your pillow as you watch Mark through your lashes. He’s fisting his cock, tip leaky and red, spreading his precum around the base. He taps his cock on your puffy folds and you squirm, an irritated whine leaving your lips to which Mark smirks at.

You grit through your teeth, “Hurry up.”

“Just admiring the view,” Mark cheekily replies, giving you a wink before his cock nudges between your folds. “Breathe.” He instructs you.

You bite back the remark that’s resting on the tip of your tongue, and you inhale deeply, only to let out a drawn out moan when Mark pushes himself inside, the familiarity of him stretching out your cunt making your toes curl and fingers grip the bed sheets.

Once he’s fully seated inside your warmth, buried in you to the hilt, you feel his ringed hands slide up your spine beneath your dress, his blunt fingernails pressing into your skin as he drags his hand back down before gripping your hips, keeping you still as he begins to thrust.

“So wet ‘n tight for me, baby…” Mark grunts, pinching your hips. He lays a firm slap on your ass, “So good f’me. Always so good.”

He repeatedly pumps in and out of you, gradually picking up his speed, and you find yourself moaning with each deep thrust of his hips. You fuck yourself back onto his cock when you feel his grip loosen on you, and your volume increases, mewling at the feeling of Mark’s cock fucking you so deep that it makes your head feels fuzzy.

You pant, “I wan’ more.”

“More?” Mark repeats with a chuckle, and his lips curl into a grin as he watches your ass bounce back on his cock. “I’m already deep inside your guts, what more could you want?”

You give him a dark glare in warning, “Mark—”

“You already cum once too,” Mark tsks, and you feel his hand slip around your waist to slot between your thighs. You shiver when you feel the pads of his ringed fingers brush over your puffy clit, “Fucking greedy, aren’t you? You take, take, take…” 

You gasp as his fingers start rubbing slow circles, and your pussy clamps around his cock. “Ah!”

“Good thing I’ll always give you what you want, right?”

Your mouth hangs open, and your eyebrows knit together from the stimulation of Mark’s cock fucking into you and rubbing your clit, the pleasure building. He’s grunting loudly behind you, his free hand giving harsh taps to your ass and soothing over the sore area.

It surprises you slightly when Mark’s hips slows down for a moment as he bends over you to press a wet smooch to your cheek, but you crane your neck awkwardly to capture his lips in a kiss, only lasting a few moments before he straightens and resumes his pace. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweet thing?” Mark asks when he feels the walls of your cunt flutter around him, knowing all too well. You nod your head quickly, and Mark smiles as he pinches your clit, eliciting a squeal from you. “Wait.”

You gape at him, “Wai—you’re joking?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I can’t wait!” You bristle, shaking your head quickly, already feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy.

All Mark does is laugh at you, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he mutters about you always getting what you want, and you go to snap back to defend yourself, but the words fail to come out of your mouth when you feel his cock swell inside of your cunt, and with one harsh thrust of his hips, you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name.

He curses under his breath, trying his best to keep the momentum as he pushes further into your tightening walls, only for his orgasm to hit harshly. He’s hips jerk, his cock pumping you full of cum, and he’s breathing heavily as his hands rub your sides.

You’re sweaty and sticky, immediately regretting not taking off your dress the second he had you against the vanity table earlier. You grunt at the ache in your hips and lower back as Mark pulls his cock out of you, and you slump to the bed with a huff, allowing your body to relax while muttering quiet complaints.  

Mark chuckles at your antics, and he reaches out, pressing his fingers into your lower back to massage you and you grin happily, melting at his touch. 

“Spoilt,” Mark states, and you lift your hand to give him the middle finger in retaliation. Mark grins and continues his ministrations for a few more minutes before he lets you go, causing you to jut your bottom lip out into a pout as you turn to look at him. “Easy, girl. You need to go pee, and then we’re gonna go shower. Get you cleaned up.”

A smirk makes its way onto your face as you tease, “How chivalrous.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He waves dismissively at you, and he stands up from your bed. He offers a hand out to you and you take it, feeling his fingers clasp around yours as he pulls you up, and he wraps a steady arm around your waist as your feet touch the ground. “I still got some weed leftover from the party, I’ll roll when we’re done. Pink skins for the princess, right?”

Feeling smug and confident, you raise your head high. “Right.”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[magicalmanhattanproject]

Okay, so with Quackity Studios tweeting about adding new people and the need for tolerance and patience with people who don't speak English, let's just take a second and have a chat about what that's gonna look like.

First: you will hear things or read things on the translator that hurt or offend you.

This is inevitable. Do not immediately post about it. What you need tolerance for is hearing things that hurt or offend you and what you need patience for is figuring out of malicious intent was present or if this is a hill worth dying on right now.

As an example, we're pretty sure at this point that Korean is gonna be the next language added. The second person pronoun in Korean sounds a lot like the n-word in English. The n-word in English, if you're not aware, is like the single most offensive slur we have. It's not something that you want to hear unexpectedly. But also, if we get Koreans, they're gonna be using the word for "you" and English speakers are gonna have to be able to tolerate that.

On the other side of things, Korean has a complex system of honorifics and addressing someone without an honorific would be considered very forward and intimate at least if not very rude. None of the QSMP languages have honorifics though and only French really retains formality* so no one else is going to address them with honorifics unless they specifically explain it to people and walk them through it. That will probably be weird and uncomfortable for them and they're going to have to be able to tolerate that.

*Spanish and Portuguese do technically have formal vs informal but it's disappearing quickly in both of them.

These natural cultural clashes and pain points are going to be harder to overcome since we also know that at least some of these creators won't speak English at all so they can't just switch to English to helpfully explain things to us easily in a way we understand. We're going to have to deal.

So here's the thing: just because there can be cultural miscommunications and mistranslations, that doesn't mean that people can't also be assholes. How do you distinguish between the two?

Step One: Assume good faith. Assume that everyone in a given encounter is trying to communicate respectfully and compassionately and that a failure to do so can be overcome

Step Two: Don't get involved. Especially not in Twitch Chat. Two or more people trying to communicate through a language barrier does not get easier when they're also trying to wrangle hostile viewers.

Step Three: Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard or saw what you thought you saw? Did the translator fuck up? Is it a word that just coincidentally happens to sound like another word? If this is the case, the streamers can ask for clarification or use another tool and get it cleared up. Keep watching and see if they do.

Step Four: If they did say what you thought they said, are the streamers handling it? We had a thing a while back where Bad called some friends, including Bagi and Etoiles, uncultured because they didn't get a reference he was making and Etoiles was like "bro I'm French" and Bad apologized. That should have been the end of it, but I had to see people arguing about it for weeks. The problem was solved in 10 seconds.

Step Five: If the person is doubling down, are you sure this is something you can fix by yelling about it on Twitter or Tumblr? Would it be better to let people who actually know them talk to them behind the scenes? Pierre made a few missteps in the beginning of the server, Quackity said they had a chat, Pierre hasn't misstepped since. It's just easier to sort things out in private, one on one conversation than yelling at someone in public.

In short: it's fine to take note of behavior in case patterns start to emerge in it, but yelling on social media about how so and so is the worst person possible is not constructive.

[masochistkatsuki]

Team Player : How to Fuck your Friend Group 101

Pt One → Masterlist

When you're tasked with having sex with every person in your friend group, the friend who put you up to it isn't excluded either. With Mina Ashido, you either go big or go home. It's a life or death (dealing with your friends stupid flirting) situation, and only you can stop it !

Luckily for you, she's your best friend, which means you can have some fun and figure out your next moves on everyone else.

See, now, there are some 'odd' aspects of your friend group. You often found yourself stuck on whether the dynamics in-between members were normal. You'd seen a lot of people who were completely comfortable, content with being physically intimate while having a full understanding of the platonic relationship.

On the other hand, so many people criticized or didn't understand it all. A lot of people could never imagine doing that with their friends. Its not exactly fitting under that definition, is it ? As soon as you crossed that line, you were in-between being friends and something romantic.

So, you never really knew what to think of those moments where you stood on the line of okay and not okay. Everyone in the group had kissed all the others at least once-- stuff like that was just.. regular. The insult gay or skank lost all meaning by your third year. You all were close in a way that was extreme for most highschool friend groups, but even so, the only actual romantic development was between Mina and Kirishima. Right ?

A part of you felt like there was something there, but it was unreachable in your mind. It was stuck to the tip of your tongue, like the perfect word for a situation, but one you just couldn't remember.

It was a mystery you were determined to solve in your Third Year. You weren't one of the top students for nothing.

You'd been scouted by the Public Safety Commission in your last year of junior high, something only Mina knew. Ironically, this led to your first "encounter" with her. If fucking your friends was a course, you learnt Minas lesson first.

It was your second year, and Class 1-A got their hands on alcohol for the first time. By the end of the night, just about everyone was wasted. Of course the class reps stayed sober, and a few people stayed responsible. But the culprits of planning the party, Bakugous friend group, were all fucked up. Especially the classes notorious party girls : Mina, you, and Jirou (who was more dragged into this by extension but still)

You and Mina set her to bed after wiping down her makeup and leaving water and a few ibuprofen pills on her bedside table. From there, you two figured youd ride down the intoxication with a movie in your room.

This turned to you two sharing secrets, past stories, and overall character traits. Highschool drunk bonding really is like no other bond. It was a big part of you two becoming the closest friend duo in the class. You two had calmed down enough to remember what was going on, but the ongoing buzz made the air around you two hotter than it probably would've been.

Still tipsy, you told her your biggest secrets. One, you were in special commission training in order to secure a spot in public safety after graduation.. totally not an insane accomplishment and huge breach of contract to say.. But more important..!

"I think I like girls too.."

The pink hair and skinned girl looked up at you, instead of surprised, or shocked, she only seemed confused. "Girl.. are you just now..?" How did you just drop that insane bomb then act timid about a glass closet ?

"Hey !! What's that supposed to mean ?" You pulled away from where you were resting on top of her before, growing embarrassed.

"Nonono, dont worry !" She pulled you back onto her, "im sorry, I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable." She rubbed softly at your waist. Gentle and soft, something you always loved about her. Its probably why she so easily could coax this information from you.

"Its okay" You brushed the messy pastel fluffs from her eyes, looking straight into them. You had an idea, you just needed to ease the tension in. You knew you were both already feeling it. "You wanted to know more about the Public Safety Commission processes and procedures.. why don't we combine the two ?"

Sharp teeth biting into your neck pulled you out of your thought process. "Minaaa" You sang, finally willing to commit to her challenge.

She looked down at you, "Ohh, you have something in mind, don't you ?" She smiled, she often had to be in charge of people, especially the idiots. You were one of the few people who let others relax as you took a calm control over things. It was something not just she, but everyone liked about you.

You and Mina were two sides of the same coin, similar in a concerning amount of ways, but contrasting like complimentary colors. You two understood the other's wants and desires more than anyone else. If anyone was going to pleasure either of the girls, they knew it'd be their best friend.

It's times like these, when you're practically practicing for your future job, but also stripping Minas leopard tank top from her chest, panting a hot breath over her skin, you wonder if your love for girls and everything about them began with her.

Goosebumps rise across the expansive area, her nipples beginning to harden just slightly. You sigh, "You're so pretty, Mina." You bite softly at her underboob, trailing your tongue towards her sternum.

"I know" She giggled, light and airy. Pulling your hand towards her bright pink dolphin shorts. Throughout the fabric, you felt her wetted lips cling to the cloth, creating a perfect mold of it against your fingers, when you havent even taken anything down there off. "I think I'm ready.."

You smiled, proud you could get such a pretty girl going so fast. Perfect. "Mina Ashido" You spoke softly, but sternly.

She looked up at you giggling, "This is my favorite part !" You held back a smile, as much as she loved these stupid roleplays, she never took them too seriously either. It helped, honestly. Youd probably get embarrassed acting all serious for too long.

You grinned wider, "You have one chance to provide the information needed." adding pressure to the inner area, rubbing softly through the fabric to start a slow, teasing pace. Her head fell back slightly, and while she had bitten her lip to avoid being too loud too quick, a content sigh gave away that you were on the right track. "Or the Public Safety Commission will have to deal with you personally."

She bucked her hips into your palm, grinding steadily against it. The moist fabric and further secreting liquid soaked into your skin. How cute. "Please, just get to it already !!" She whined, but still mischievously flashed her teeth at you.

"Ah, ah" You scolded, though in a joking tone. You pressed your hand against her, giving her the pleasure she began to beg for, but holding her in place. "What was this about flattering comments ?"

"Oooh, so you're actually going to do it ?" She looked pleased, but also kinda shocked. "Youre so amazing~" She teased, though you knew she genuinely meant it, "Im so happy we have someone who'd do anything to protect the public's safety !" Okay now she was trying to rile you up.

You slid your fingers through the shorts and under her panties, resting your middle and pointer fingertips against the hood of her clit. Not enough to do anything serious, but the light touches were going to break her down eventually.

"Lets start." You looked at her, asking if she wanted to continue, not just the physical intimacy but overall conversation. She smiled at you, aegyo sal growing plump under her eyes.

"Sounds good, (Hero Name)." You smirked. You couldnt lie, it was pleasing how into this Mina would get.

"So who from the list is the easiest to start with ?" Your fingers started to slowly circle around where she wanted it, occasionally brushing over it when you were pushing your fingers up left.

Me, obviously, she thought, but her words got caught in her throat. "Mm.. its.." Her legs trembled a bit, spreading out.

'Jesus Mina. You really need to fuck.' You slowed your movements, and placed your spare hand on her thigh, bringing her back to where she was. "Eijirou..", She moaned, voice a little too sensual while saying his name.

You were still quite shocked that she wanted you to actually fuck him as well. In you, her, and Jirous personal group chat, the topic of Mina keeping him in her basement was one of the most recurring conversations. "And how's that ? Be specific, Ashido."

Itd been such a long time since anyone used her last name, in the right context, it could feel like it was someone calling out her given name for the first time. "O..oh.." Her head tilted back. Between her tension with Kirishima, and intense work studies, you doubted shes had the time to herself. You could tell she was more sensitive than usual. "Hes.. real inexperienced.." She sighed, hips bucking slightly as you began to steadily quicken the pace again.

You thought back. There wasn't really a lot to be said about Kirishima. He was a sweet boy, got really hard easily.. unsurprisingly. You tried to come up with anything that could help. He was relentlessly respectful, and of course chivalrous. It's easy to forget hes just a man too.

"Sooo," you began, genuinely curious on how shed answer this next question. "If hes the easiest, why haven't you done anything ?" You began to make the circles smaller, enclosing directly to where she was the most sensitive.

"I..im.." Her legs were beginning to close and open sporadically, she was getting close. "Only you know how to do this stuff to me.. I need you to teach him..!" Without warning, her legs finally snapped shut, and you locked your fingers in a tight spiral against her clit, letting her ride out her first orgasm.

Wow, is she that scared hes gonna suck ?

"Thats hot." You gasped, itd been a while since you got to see Mina like this. She truly was breathtaking. "So.. I think I understand Kirishima.. but I still think you should teach him yourself.." You had an idea of what you were going to do, but hoped Mina would just grow a pair.

"Its even hotter when they magically know." She sighed, a dreamy look on her face. Is this what happens when you read too much Tumblr smut ?

"Thats not.." You still can't believe this is happening. "Its another girl who taught him-"

"Don't worry I can pretend." Oh my god okay shes seriously not gonna fuck him until you do.

You sighed, a little proud of Mina for how fucking insane she could be. Your eyes trailed down her sweaty neck, towards her collar bones and bare chest. Hmm.

"Well," You continued, readjusting your hand so your middle and ring were prodding against her entrance. Your body leaned over hers, and in a familiar move from tonight, the vibrations from your voice rumbled softly on her shoulder. "Keep going, whos next ?"

"Denki-" You slid your fingers in, down to the second knuckle. Of course it was him. You began softly massaging around, relaxing her to the movement.

"Im holding off on him for as long as possible.." You grimaced. Kaminari was one of your best friends, dont yet anyone wrong, but.. well.. its HIM.

"Makes sense.." She sighed. He was definitely going to need the least convincing, but a lot of self motivation and convincing was needed.

It was an unspoken rule that more graphic sexual conversations happened between the guys specifically, and the girls specifically. It wasnt often that theyd seriously talk about it to each other, given the awkward teen hormones going on. The most that was shared was small incriminating details the other group would tease the person for, or things willingly shared during a truth or dare type thing.

But Denki fucking Kaminari. Public group chat, "just learned I have a mommy kink" "hear me out on lactation tho" It wasn't too surprising given he was also friends with Mineta, but goddamnit did he make it everyones problem. Also everyone in that group chat has seen that one specific picture of his dick. Unrelated probably.

"There's some things you should probably know.." Mina continued, whimpering a little as you began you fuck her softly with your fingers. "Hes real fucking stupid, obviously.." She gasped, your fingers getting closer and closer to her gspot. "But he knows a lot .. he probably has files on everyone's sexual preferences and feelings."

you groaned, sinking your teeth into her lower neck, sucking a purple bruise out of her pink skin. "Hes a fuckin psycho.." you lifted yourself up, and brought one of her thighs up to her chest as you deepened your thrusts. "Well.. whos next on our list, Mina ?" You pressed a kiss against the edge of her mouth, her voice finally breaking as breathy moans slipped from her lips.

"Fuck..fuck.. um.." Her eyes struggled to stay open, her legs felt numb from the overstimulation but her lower stomach felt so fucking good. Heat rose through her body as she whined louder and louder. "S-Sero.. Jirou is close after th-though.." Her face was an even brighter pink, a telltale sign of blush for the acid girl.

You slowed your thrusts, opting to grind your fingers against the opening muscles. "Wait.. wait fuck.. no dont stop.." she pleaded. She was definitely close, and the roleplay was beginning to get thrown out her mind.

"Its okay.." you hummed, picking your pace back up. "Just tell me real quick and ill let you cum Mina, okay ?" You smiled, and held her chin in place to make eye contact with you. "Is that okay ?" Your place was back on par with how she liked it.

"Yes yes yes.. oh fuck.. okay .. Sero is.." Her head tilted back, her legs spreading. "Hes the second closest to you, casual sex is easier than you think with him."

Your fingers began beating softly against the edge of her gummy pad. right where she would fall apart. Honestly, you knew she was right. You and Sero constantly would build up sexual tension from conversation or body language alone, it probably would've happened at some point anyway. "Okayy.. and.." You began rubbing circular around the spot, fully preparing to feel her coming around you any second. "What about Jirou ?"

Mina was panting, and struggling to get her words together even more. "J..j.. its.. haaahhh.." She was totally beginning to lose it. You quickened your pace, more interested in seeing her let go again than what she was going to say. Being in the girls group, you already knew most of Jirous sexual preferences anyway.

"Its okay, Mina." You finally fucked your fingers into her gspot dirrectly, using your other arm to lift both of her legs up to her chest, gaining a deep and quick angle. "You did good."

"Fuckfuckfuck oh my.. oh my g..god.." Her hips stuttered against your hold, her warm walls tightening and releasing rapidly against your fingers. "Yes.. fuck.." She had a fucked out smile, eyes fluttering closed contently.

You let her rest, and took your hand away to take care of her. While gathering the warm cloth and a bottle of water (with a lemon slice, she likes citrus after intense.. situations), you briefly reviewed what you knew about Jirou.

She's a lesbian, so you had an easy chance. The issue is she gets flustered easily, you wanted to make sure you didn't scare her away. There was also the Momo situation..

While cleaning up Mina, towling town her sweat and using the warm damp cloth to soak up the mess between her legs, you thought about everything you knew now.

Kirishima is probably similar to Mina, in need of releasing all the tension they've been teasing each other with. You have a good idea of how to relieve him, but also set him up with Ashido once and for all.

Denki is a whore. You'll probably have to out slut him in order to get him to talk. Its going to be a long night for him, taking some time to study the bdsm test wont hurt.

Sero's pretty laid back, if you're upfront about what's going on and why you're doing what you're doing, you know he'll be cool with it. Besides, this is one you're looking forward too.

Jirou might be a bit tricky. You'll let her know your intentions, and set up a personal hang out to just relax and ease into anything at her pace. You can also try and see whats going on with Yaoyorozu !

Oh.. and Katsuki.. Well. There's not really a point in thinking about him. You know nothing. Despite being the first two at the table, he kept everyone locked out of his romantic or sexual life completely, as far as you knew. As it concerned you, he didn't have anything going on. You didnt need to ask Mina about him, you knew he would be the hardest.

As you finished up, you looked back over to the clock. "We're thirty minutes late by the way." You held back a giggle, stuff like this always ended up happening.

"Fuck !" Now this one sounded way less pleased than before.

A/N : Not a lot of Bakugou development, sorry, i like girls more. next chapter should have more though !! speaking of

i think its pretty obvious the order that the characters will go in, but who do you think will be the next chapter focus ?

tag list (ask to be added) : @adv3rs1ty @icarusthefoolish @hyunjinshairband7 @waterfal-ling

[cosmicpuzzle]

4th Lord in Houses

1st House

You enjoyed nurturing in youth and consequently you are close to your mother. Being in good touch with your emotional mind you are true to your feelings and values. With this disposition in life you will gain happiness, particularly in the form of comfort, property and wealth.

2nd House

Having a secure family life and financial status gives you more comfort than many others. Therefore, for the purpose of comfort and security, you will tend to accumulate considerable wealth. Your mind is cunning and practical. Your mother will have good financial opportunities in life.

3rd House

You will only acquire comfort and security through your own courage and assertion. The need you have for stability and comfort is the motivation for the initiative necessary for accomplishment. Although you may have lacked comforts from your mother, you will acquire security with you own skills and abilities.

4th House

You are comfortable and content and well aware of your emotional needs. There is a strong need of emotional intimacy and close friendships. You tend to be very personal and loyal to your friends. Property of land or real estate will come easily to you, and you will enjoy comforts all your life.

5th House

You seek fulfillment and comfort in a lively interaction with knowledge. Moral values and spiritual principles, which you may have gotten from your mother, play an important part of your life. You are happy and likable and financial resources will always be available to you.

6th House

You may find it problematic to settle into a comforting and secure lifestyle. In your efforts to do so you may encounter all kinds of obstacles and irritants, which are only resolved over a lapse of time. Due to this, however, you may develop your own independent problem-solving style of fulfilling your comforting needs. There is a possibility that your mother will suffer from a medical or mental complaint.

7th House

Your basic needs for nurturing and comforts are only fulfilled by close partnerships or marriage. Therefore, you will seek out a spouse who is strong and protective and can connect to you on an intimate emotional level. You will get a good education, although you may not get to display your knowledge.

8th House

You are likely to harbor a deep interest in occult or mysterious fields of knowledge. In a sense you may seek comfort by exploring and unveiling hidden mysteries. You may, however, find it hard to fulfill your basic needs for emotional comfort and security because of constant challenges and transformations in that arena. Your mother may have suffered in her life or the relationship between you was inadequate.

9th House

You may get fulfillment for your tender need for comfort by seeking out and assimilating knowledge, philosophical or religious, that expanded your horizon, and makes you feel at home where the knowledge was. Your mother was probably a spiritual person which gave you good moral values and a healthy outlook in life. Higher education is a very appropriate direction for you and your life will be characterized by fortune and happiness.

10th House

You may feel most at home in your work, which is very likely to be very successful and give you great social prestige and reputation. Political influence or governmental favors are few of the tools you utilize to step up to fame and power.

11th House

You seek your comforts in optimism and openness for new endeavors. Meeting and doing business with others will bring you contentment, and it's quite possible that you can open avenues of resources for yourself by supplying security and contentment to others, for example in the form of real estate. There is possibility that you harbor a fear, a secret ailment or disease.

12th House

Your best way of attaining happiness and inner contentment may be through selfless service to those who are in need. This is how you may find that making others happy gives you comfort and contentment. It might be difficult, however, for you to gain any substantial and lasting material comforts in life, but your afterlife might look better than others.

For Readings DM

[ramp-it-up]

Muse: One

Muse Preview | Muse Masterlist|| Muse: Two

Summary: You and Ari meet on Raya. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 4.5 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this one will probably be the longest one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and then endured me being feral in her inbox. And yes, this is the same Ari that's in Show Off, so this AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. I was honestly working on another fic and this one possessed me. Here I go again. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Ari Levinson: art collector/curator/ fuckboi, Reader: model/ player, dating app life, drinking, casual sex, Dominant Ari, assertive reader, sex almost straight out the gate, size kink (c &b), breeding kink, but protected sex, pussy/clit slapping, praise and degradation, one night stand with zero feelings caught (lies!)

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You weren’t even supposed to be on Raya that night.

You’d just finished a long shoot in a downtown loft where the air was thick with hairspray, and the photographer kept yelling absurdities like: “Give me strong, but soft! Like a powerful whisper!” 

Your feet ached. Your back screamed. The only thing keeping you sane was the cold cabernet sauvignon sweating in your hand.

You weren’t looking for anything. You just wanted to see some pretty faces and feel like a hot girl with options.

Swipe.

Swipe.

No.

No.

Hell no.

Well damn. Ari Levinson.

You’d heard about him. Your model friends had stories about how smooth he was, the size of his dick, and how he ghosted right after getting what he wanted. Classic.

But you got it. On a cellular level. Because you weren’t looking for entanglements either.

You just wanted the D.

His first photo was black and white, him standing in a sunlit Parisian gallery, framed by massive abstract canvases. His hair was tousled like he either just woken up from a nap on a vintage couch or spent the morning negotiating a private sale.

He wasn’t looking at the camera, of course not.

He was looking at the art. 

Ari also looked like art, smart blue eyes and soft lips partially hidden by a beard that you thought would feel good between your thighs. You could tell that he was tall, broad shouldered, and built to last. He was dressed casually, and that’s how you knew he was rich rich.

He didn’t have to show it off.

His bio was enigmatic:

“Chasing beauty, collecting moments. Sometimes it’s oil on canvas. Sometimes it’s the silence between two songs.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

You read it twice.

You meant to swipe left.

But fate, or the wine, intervened.

It’s a Match.

You stared at it for a minute, then typed before you could change your mind.

“Picasso said 'art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” You buying lies or selling them?” Drinks?

He responded within seconds.

He suggested a bar in SoHo with intimate booths, dim lighting, and top tier mixology. 

You almost said no. You didn’t do dates. 

You did vibes, connections, and the occasional night of excellent chaos. 

But something about his response made you curious.

—--

Raya was never really Ari’s scene.

Too curated. Profiles with perfectly lit selfies, vague aspirations, and bios that tried too hard to sound both deep and detached. 

He didn’t swipe often.

But the truth was, Ari Levinson was lonely.

Not in the sad, broken kind of way, more like he was perpetually surrounded by beautiful people who only admired his collection, complimented his taste, but never asked why he kept certain pieces or why he stared too long at sculptures that looked like loss.

His encounter the other night with the newlywed Rogers made him yearn for that kind of fire, that kind of connection. But he didn’t know if that could be duplicated.

Ari was just about to close the app when your profile popped up. 

He recognized you right away. 

Not because you were just beautiful, you definitely were, but because you commanded the image. There was a magnetism in the way you moved, a joy and defiance that didn’t care for permission.

On your profile was a picture of you in oversized sunglasses and a silk robe, holding a book. And another one of you at some red-carpet event, plus-sized and absolutely radiant, laughing like you were amused at the world. 

You were absolutely stunning.

Your bio:

Model. Curvy chaos. Not here for a long time, just a good time.

Ari smiled. Finally, someone not performing a softcore version of forever.

You weren’t like the others, not looking to be wifed up with someone rich and powerful like him. That made you dangerous.

He swiped right instinctively, just to see. Just to admire. 

He didn’t expect a match.

But when the screen lit up, It’s a Match!, his chest actually tightened. 

And then came your message.

You look like you curate galleries by day and cry to phoebe bridgers by night. Drinks?

He choked on his espresso.

It was hilarious.

And too perfect.

He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve played it cool.

Instead, he typed back faster than he ever had in his life.

“I’m intrigued. 8PM. Little Branch in SoHo. Can’t wait to see you.”

Short, sharp, and confident, not overplaying his hand. 

And it was the word intrigued, not “interested,” not “curious.” And he’d said, “Can’t wait to see you.” 

That got you. Because that meant he was already a little undone.

—---

Ari was already there when you walked in. Black button-up, gold chain, leaning on the bar casually, but you could tell he saw you the second you stepped through the door. He stood, smiled, and you rocked back on your heels as if hit by a bolt of lightning. 

The man was massive. Pictures didn’t do him justice and you didn’t know of the button up was tailored, all you knew is you felt the power beneath it. You also had to stop yourself from turning your head sideways to check out the package in his jeans.

You paused, steadying yourself, and continued your approach..

“Wow,” he said when you approached and introduced yourself. 

You laughed, because no matter how many people ogled you for a living, the involuntary kind of compliments always made you flustered. You swallowed, then turned to the barback.

“Negroni. Empress Gin.”

Ari raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Oh. A big girl drink.”

You laughed. He kind of loved it already.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a big girl.”

Ari’s eyes slid down your body and you weren’t mad as he did a double take at your jeans. 

“I see. And I like.”

The way he licked his lips made you warm. You raised your eyebrow, imagining him munching away.

“My booth is back here.”

You looked at his large hand pointing the way to the back of the small bar to an even more intimate area. Yeah. You could ride that. 

You walked ahead of him and you knew that he was watching your ass. You didn't mind. That was the point.

His booth was tucked into a corner, shadowed and intimate; it was the kind of space designed for secrets and seduction. You slid in first, and he followed, sitting close.

He signaled for another round, fingers grazing yours on the drink menu as if by accident, and when the server left, he turned back to you with that beautiful smile.

“So. Model, huh?” 

You smiled back at him.

“That’s the rumor. Print and editorial mostly. A few campaigns. But I prefer runways in Europe over the states. I travel a lot.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes. But I like bringing the fantasy to life.” 

You took a sip of your drink and his eyes were on your mouth.

“And you? Art dealer, right? Collector?”

“Curator,” he corrected gently. “Sometimes broker. Sometimes buyer. Mostly, I help people spend obscene amounts of money on things they don’t understand.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“So a charming con artist with a gallery?”

He grinned. 

“Exactly. But I only sell what I believe in.”

“Nice. I sell unattainability and the occasional skincare product. We both deal in illusions.”

“Yours just have better lighting.”

You laughed and tilted your head. Something happened in Ari’s chest. He should have run.

“So, what, you sit around all day judging brushstrokes and seducing heiresses?”

“Mostly. And trying not to text back women I shouldn’t.”

“Am I one of them?”

“Too soon to tell. But you’re a strong contender.”

You let that linger in the air for a second.

“So,” you said slowly, setting your drink down with a clink, “is this where you try and charm the pants off me?”

“I was trying to decide,” he murmured, as he took a drink, eyes locked on yours, “if I wanted to fuck you at your place or mine.”

You blinked, just once, but your smile widened.

“Oh, we’re skipping pretense, then?” you questioned. “Good. I hate when men waste my time. When was the last time you were tested?"

Ari raised his brow. You cut right to the chase.

"I get tested once a quarter, last time was two weeks ago. Clean."

"Hmmmm. I tested a month ago. And I'm clean too. But I'm gonna still need you to wear protection."

Ari smiled and lowered his eyes. His hand moved slightly under the table to rest near your thigh, but not quite touching you. A tease.

"Of course. Something tells me you don’t let anything, or anyone through,” he replied.

You studied him, wondering if you were reading worship and destruction into his look or if it was actually there.

“You’re starting to sound like someone who catches feelings.”

“Feelings?” he echoed with a grin. “No, I just like being around wild, beautiful creatures. And I enjoy the ones that bite back even more.”

You leaned in closer to him. 

“You think I’m wild. And you think I bite?” 

“I hope you are. And I hope you do.”

Your leg brushed his under the table. His eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, darker now.

“I have the same hopes for you, Mr. Levinson.”

Ari’s jaw flexed, nostrils flaring. 

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

His fingers moved to your thigh and traced a slow line up your crotch beneath the table. 

You leaned in closer.

“You still sure about just one night?” he asked, eyes on your lips again.

You put your hand on his thigh at that moment, moving it up to feel his thickening cock. You were excited at the potential there.

“One night. That’s the deal. I don’t do second acts. So you better make it count.”

Ari grinned and your stomach flipped.

“Well, then. I need to make it unforgettable.”

—----

You were straddling him on your couch when Ari realized he was in trouble.

He should’ve known the second you walked into the bar, hips swaying and those curves...damn. But here, now, with your thighs around him and your body pressed so close he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, he was so gone.

Ari wasn’t the type to rush. 

He was all about artful restraint and being aloof. But you shattered that. 

You kissed like you knew just how to destroy him with your lips, teeth, and tongue. Ari hadn’t experienced the feeling since he was a teenager, but damn, he was throbbing underneath you.

And when you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers dragging over his chest, rubbing his nipples under your palms, he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. You’re unreal,” he murmured.

And you just smirked, leaned in, whispering, “I know.”

God, the way you moved. Every roll of your hips was a tease, every drag of your nails down his skin was a stripe he wanted to earn. He gripped your jean-clad thighs thighs hard enough to ground himself, because he was floating somewhere between desperation and awe.

You rode him slowly at first. You wanted him to feel all of it, every breath, every tremor. And he did. 

Your pussy was buzzing with anticipation and you were impatient, but you wanted to savor this one.

You arched as his hips rolled up between your legs, anchoring your hands on his broad shoulders as he branded the shape of himself between your legs. And when he did it again, you moaned and tried to create your own rhythm, but he held you in place.

Ari had to stop you because he only had one shot tonight and he wasn’t going to throw it away and let you cum in your pants. When your orgasm hit, it would be with the slick walls of your pussy clamped around his cock.

So you did the only thing you could, which was to grind down harder on him, causing him to let out a shaky breath, finally moving you against him to get some friction.

"Fuck... let me feel you, darlin'."

Ari made a new rhythm, one he managed with his eyes locked on yours, hands roaming from your waist to your back, then tangled in your hair as you leaned in and bit his bottom lip, making him groan.

“You gonna fall in love with me, Ari?” you teased against his mouth.

“I think I already am,” he said, before he could stop himself.

You didn’t answer, thinking it was part of the game. You just smiled, leaned back, hands on his chest, and started moving faster, driving him out of his mind. 

Every sound you made wrapped around his ribs and squeezed. He didn’t know what felt better, the pressure building low in his stomach, or the way you moaned his name like it tasted sweet in your mouth. The feel of your wet, hot pussy through your jeans was just a bonus.

He'd slept with beautiful women. Charming women. Women who made love like it were their last day on earth. 

But you? You were different.

And the way you looked, curls akimbo, lips parted, eyes locked on his like you were seeing to the bottom of him, that image seared into him. 

He stood, picking you up effortlessly, grabbing you under your ass.

“I’m assuming that your bed is up here?”

You just nodded, breathless at his power as he carried you up the stairs to the loft where your king sized bed was.

He reached the top and dropped you on the bed. You bounced a little as he reached for you and unbuttoned your jeans, dragging them down your legs along with your panties.

Shit, he wasn’t wasting any time.

He stopped and proceeded to strip off his own clothes.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he commanded and you scrambled to comply, removing your top and your bra and watching him undress at the same time. You almost groaned at the sight of his cock.

You hadn’t always been a cock hungry slut, but you were a little obsessed. Ari was big and long, not the longest you’d had, but definitely the thickest. It was beautiful: veiny and flushed, with a large swollen head that leaked precum down his shaft. You knew it was going to be amazing when he stretched you out.

Then you noticed his balls. They looked full and heavy. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you imagined how much cum he’d have for you. Ari smirked down at your wide eyes on him as he pushed your shoulders until you were lying on your back.

He hooked your thighs with his hands and dragged you until your ass was at the edge of the bed and you squealed with surprise as he lifted your feet up to his shoulders. This was quite the change from your usual three positions with your one night stands: missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style.

When he rubbed the his thick tip along your soaked slit, you closed your eyes and moaned. He tapped the entrance to your pussy with his cock, holding your hip to ensure that you didn't make him slip inside you.

Yeah. Ari wasn’t like other guys.

You felt the weight of him as he dragged his cock through your slippery, swollen pussy, smearing your slick all over him and you looked down, mesmerized by the sight. This was going to be good.

Ari looked down angrily.

"Fucking soaked for me," those blue eyes snapped up to yours, freezing you in place. "You always this wet?"

He licked those red lips and if you had a heart you would have been in trouble. You’d never been this wet with anyone before. You just shook your head no, not trusting yourself to answer, lest you have him thinking, correctly, that he was the shit.

But he read you anyway. That smile was both beautiful and annoying.

"For me? You shouldn't have... might get me addicted."

You scowled at him, but then you bit your lip as he started to draw circles on your clit with his penis. You were dickmatized again, eyes riveted to the spot as you moaned.

He tapped his cock against your clit to get your attention.

“Look at me.”

You looked at him through your lashes.

“Do you have any condoms?”

Oh no. Did you? You couldn’t think because of the pre-orgasmic haze you were in. Ari licked his finger and then brought it down to caress your clit while he waited for your answer.

That didn’t help the clarity of your thinking.

“Ch-check the top drawer.”

You gestured toward your nightstand, hoping it was the right direction. 

He left you, opened legged and bereft as he went on his mission, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Found them.”

Thank god. You were about to beg him to ride you bareback if he hadn’t found any. He sheathed himself and then moved back into his previous position.

He rubbed himself over your slit again, and you moaned.

“Right about here, between these beautiful thick thighs, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was driving you crazy. Your cunt was humming on a five at the bar, but he had ramped her up to an 11. You’d never been this desperate for a cock before.

“Just fuck me, please!”

He chuckled and lined the head of his cock against your entrance, but didn’t push home. He teased you for a second, before dragging it up and down one last time, just to see the look your face.

Beautiful.

“You sure about this?”

His voice was pure sin. You opened your eyes fully and glared at him.

Gorgeous.

“Yes, Ari. I need you.”

That must have been enough because he immediately plunged in, inch by glorious fat inch, straight to your core. 

“Oh fuck!”

Ari’s meaty cock stretched you out, and your head fell back in ecstasy as your hips instinctively arched to take him in deeper. You were panting from pure pleasure as you tried to adjust to his thickness.

“You like that? Like my thick cock in this little pussy?”

“Yes, God, yes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from bucking against him to try to get him to move. He was still as a statue and his jaw was clenched from restraint.

“Tell you what, if you beg me to fill your pussy with cum, I’ll fuck you so hard your head spins. Deal?”

“Um…” you couldn’t form your thoughts to beg, or to realize that there would be no cum filling because of the condom.

“Why don’t you think about it and let me know,” Ari said casually as if he were talking to a customer browsing his gallery.

But he started thrusting slowly into your cunt as the electric current in his dick made you crave the roughness he’d suggested.  You tried to pull yourself together, but it didn’t work.

Ari was transfixed by your breasts. They looked delicious.

“Play with your nipples,” Ari growled.

You cupped your breasts with your hands and pulled at the stiff peaks. He continued his leisurely pace, except now everything was worse. Or better.

Every time you pulled your nipples, you felt a corresponding pull between your legs. And then there was the way he was looking at what you were doing, eyes half lidded and mouth open as you touched yourself. Fuck that was so erotic.

The pressure was building, but you knew you wouldn’t cum until he fucked you harder.

Ari stopped and pulled out.

“Nooooooo!” you cried, and he chuckled at you, as if he was amused.

“I really wanna make you cum, but I think I’m distracting you too much.”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t want him to stop. A sharp smack against your swollen pussy lips made you yelp and a blast of delight surged through you. 

Holy fuck what was this guy doing to you?

When he slapped your pussy harder, you realized how completely fucked you were.

You would do whatever he wanted.

“Okay okay. Let me think…. Shit, Uh…” you were completely in a daze.

“Are you ready to beg me to fill you with my cum?” Ari reminded you of the question at hand.

He brought a finger back to your clit and rubbed devastating circles around it.

Jesus fuck, it was like he didn’t really want you to be able to talk. Catching a moment of clarity, you rushed it out.

“Please, Ari, fuck me hard and fill me with your cum. Pretty please. I just need your cum. Promise I’ll be the best fucktoy you’ve ever had, please?”

He gave you an evil grin and caressed your clit harder. You whimpered.

“Please, Ari. Need your cum.”

He stopped rubbing and you felt his tip nudging into you, and you were almost purring from the pleasure. He pressed in until he bottomed out, waves of bliss washing over you. You started trembling preemptively.

“Good girl,” he announced as he pulled out gently, only to slam back in hard.

“Oooooo, fuck, oh my god!” you gasped out as he fucked you ruthlessly. 

The sound of your moans mixed with the squeaking of your bed, and you continued to play with your tits which only increased your pleasure.

You went from one peak to another as you quickly spiraled toward your orgasm, Ari’s grunts each time he sank into you helping to speed you along.

“Such a….good… little… breedable…. Fucktoy…..”  

He slammed into you, groaning with every word. All it took was one brush of his finger to push you over the edge.

You screamed, “Oh, god, yes!” as you came all over his cock and writhed against him as he roared that he was cuming. New waves of rapture surged between your legs, traveling throughout your entire body.

He drilled into you for a moment longer, and the intense aftershocks were almost too much to bear. When he finally pulled out, the room swirled around you and you let out a tiny giggle. 

Ari did promise to fuck you hard enough to make it spin.

He went to the bathroom and disposed of the condom and then returned and pulled you up the bed to make you his little spoon.

You reveled in the smell of sweat and sex, almost getting high on the scent. You laughed softly like you couldn’t believe what just happened. But he knew. He knew exactly what happened.

He was ruined.

But you were a one-night promise, a walking fantasy with no intentions of calling back. And still, as you lay in bed with him, catching your breath, his hands on your body, Ari knew he didn’t want this to end. 

Not anytime soon.

“You don’t have to stay if you have something in the morning…”

You meant that to sound more definitive, like you were inviting him to leave, but Ari had wrecked you so much that you didn’t have the energy to be cold. That was the reason you turned, burrowed into his chest and let your eyelids get heavy.

Ari chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Muse. I’ll get out of your hair soon. Just catching my breath.”

“... the fuck is Muse?...” you questioned on your way to sleep, the rhythm of his fingers on your thighs the nails in your coffin of sleep.

“You are. You’re my Muse.”

You didn’t quite feel the kiss on your forehead. But you smiled.

—----

In the morning, the light in your apartment was rude.

It filtered through the curtains like it had a personal vendetta, hitting your face just as you tried to pretend the night didn’t happen the way it did. Your limbs were sore in that satisfied way, like you’d run a marathon, but only with your hips. 

You stretched. Yawned. Felt the warmth behind you.

Shit.

Ari was still there.

He was on his side, one arm slung over your waist like it belonged there. His broad chest was on your back, and his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in.

You shifted. He didn’t move. Just tightened his hold with that annoying, possessive kind of tenderness.

“Morning,” he mumbled into your skin, his gravelly morning voice threatening to do you in.

“Mhmm,” you answered, noncommittally. You carefully peeled his arm off. 

“You can go, you know.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head, messy hair falling over his eyes, beard pressed with pillow lines. 

He looked like sex personified.

“Damn. No coffee? No kiss on the cheek? Not even a fake number on a Post-it?”

“Don’t make this weird, Ari.”

You’re out of bed now, grabbing your robe from the chair, ignoring the way his eyes tracked your every move. You knew the drill. One-night stands didn’t turn into brunch plans.

He propped himself up and leaned against your headboard like it was custom-built for him.

“Wasn’t trying to. Just… didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to forget me.”

“I’m not,” you lied, tying your hair up with a scarf, trying to be as unattractive as possible. 

You had no idea that to him you looked like the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen.

“I just like to keep things clean. No open tabs.”

“Hmm.” 

He studied you for a long moment, then stretched like a cat, unapologetically naked and smug. 

“You always kick people out like this? Or am I just special?”

You sighed. He wasn't making it easy. He was too comfortable in your space. Too charming. Too in your face.

“I didn’t peg you for the lingering type.”

“I’m not. But something about your bed makes me reconsider my brand.” 

He grinned. 

“And you snore a little. It’s cute.”

You whirled around. 

“I do not snore.”

He laughed. Like it was a private joke between you. It softened you for a second. Just a second. You cleared your throat and motioned down toward the door.

“Seriously. You should go.”

He nodded slowly, slid out of your bed and grabbed his clothes, treating you to the sight of him getting leisurely getting dressed. When he caught you watching, he grinned, and you scoffed, going down the stairs so you wouldn’t be tempted stare any more.

Ari walked past you, stopped at the doorway and turned.

“If this is your way of making sure I don’t catch feelings... it might be too late.”

That caught you off guard. He shrugged.

“It’s fine. I’m not asking for a toothbrush or a drawer. But if you ever want to fuck again… or talk about art… or do both at the same time…You know where to find me, Muse.”

He winked. The mutherfucker actually winked, then walked out like he didn’t just ruin your perfectly controlled system. 

You stood there, silent, heart hammering a little harder than you would have liked. And only when the door clicked shut did you whisper: 

“...Goddamn it.”

——-

Muse: Two

So… whaddya think? 🤔

[purplereina11]

🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 1 It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything. Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred. It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

It had all started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected - Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts and plenty of fan curiosity before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything. You couldn’t only feel her touch one, you couldn’t only have her make your body react to her touch that way the once.

It wasn’t spelled out but you’d agreed to a no strings attached friends with benefits arrangement which is all you both had time for, meaningless hook ups, to satisfy an appetite she started. She’d invited you over to her apartment this evening to go over the ‘terms’, with the positions you both were in you needed to protect yourselves. That was a given. Go over some ground rules. You also weren’t planning on sleeping with her this evening, but you’d see how that would work out. You only got out your car in her parking garage and you could feel the spark ignite in your stomach.

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. It wasn’t as if you and Alexia hadn’t spent time together.

Because it was different.

You weren’t just making flirtatious conversation in front of an online audience. You weren’t exchanging pointed photos online under the watchful eyes of her fans and teammates. This was intentional. A choice. It was planned. The first time you’d be alone together, just the two of you, since everything had started.

And you had never been to her home before. It was intimate, you'd argue more intimate than your encounter on the balcony in a club.

You exhaled, trying to quiet the nerves rattling in your chest before finally lifting your hand and knocking.

The door swung open almost immediately, like she had been waiting right there. Alexia stood before you, casual in a hoodie and sweats, but somehow still effortlessly put together. Her hair was pulled back, a few loose strands framing her face, and there was something almost hesitant in her expression.

"Hey," she said, voice softer than usual.

"Hey." You shifted on your feet, gripping the strap of your bag like it was an anchor. "I hope I’m not too early."

She huffed a quiet laugh. "You could’ve shown up an hour ago, and it wouldn’t have been too early."

That admission sent a flicker of warmth through your chest, but before you could dwell on it, she stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You hesitated for just a second before crossing the threshold, taking in your surroundings. The apartment was unfamiliar, but there were pieces of her everywhere—framed photos, neatly stacked books, a pair of football boots tucked near the door. It felt like stepping into another part of her life, one you hadn’t been allowed into before.

"I, uh—made dinner. If you’re hungry," she offered, suddenly looking almost shy. "If not, we can just sit, talk—whatever you want."

You glanced toward the kitchen, where two plates were already set out on the island, candles flickering between them. Your stomach flipped. It was subtle, but the effort was there. She wanted this to go well. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and met her eyes. "Dinner sounds good."

Alexia nodded, as if trying to play it cool, but you caught the small exhale of relief she let out as she led the way.

As you sat down, the initial stiffness between you began to fade. The food was good—really good—and you told her so, earning a smug little smirk. "I do have some skills outside of football," she teased, taking a bite of her own meal.

You raised a playful eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Cooking and what else?"

She pretended to think, tapping a finger against her chin. "I’m a decent DJ in the car. Good at remembering random facts. And I can fold a fitted sheet."

That made you laugh. "Okay, the fitted sheet thing is impressive. That’s practically a superpower."

Alexia grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "I know. It’s why my sister always makes me do it."

Conversation flowed more easily after that. There were teasing remarks about her taste in music, "You have, like, two playlists, and one of them is just reggaeton.", and mock arguments over whether football or basketball was more enjoyable to watch. You caught her watching you a few times, a soft kind of amusement in her eyes, like she was relieved this wasn’t awkward or forced.

"You have something on your face," she said suddenly, reaching across towards you before you could react. Her thumb brushed the corner of your lips, slow and deliberate. The touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, her eyes flickering to yours as she pulled away.

You swallowed, your skin tingling where she had touched you. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

Alexia leaned back, smirking now, her gaze unwavering. "Anytime."

The tension shifted, thickening in the space between you. It was playful, charged, the kind that made your pulse quicken. You tilted your head, watching her as you dragged your fork across your plate. "You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you planned all of this just to kiss me."

Alexia didn’t even pretend to deny it. She lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug, taking a slow sip of her drink before responding. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

Your breath caught slightly, but you covered it with a smirk of your own. "Depends. Are you any good at it?” You narrowed your eyes slightly teasing her, “I can’t quite remember”

Alexia set her glass down, leaning in just enough to close the space between you a little more. "Why don’t you tell me?"

The heat in her voice sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, dinner felt secondary to the unspoken conversation happening between you. The lightness from before remained, but now there was something else an edge of anticipation, a challenge neither of you was willing to back down from.

Your gaze flickered to her lips before you could stop yourself. And then, before you could second-guess it, you leaned in, closing the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, but Alexia responded almost instantly, her lips pressing back against yours like she’d been waiting for it. Her hand found your cheek, fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and you felt the warmth of her body as she leaned in just a little closer.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing. Alexia’s eyes searched yours, her breath just a little uneven, a small, pleased smile 

tugging at her lips.

"Not bad," you murmured, teasing, trying to play it cool despite the way your pulse was hammering. You hadn’t kissed like that before.

Alexia let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I think you’re a terrible judge of kissing skills."

You grinned, tilting your head. "Guess I’ll have to try again. Just to be sure."

Her smile widened, her fingers still resting against your cheek. "Yeah," she murmured, voice lower now. "I think you should."

Later, after dinner was finished and the plates had been pushed aside, Alexia retrieved a deck of cards and a bottle of wine. You ended up sitting on the floor at her coffee table, legs folded beneath you as she dealt the first hand.

"You any good at this?" she asked, pouring each of you a glass.

You smirked, taking a sip before answering. "I guess we’ll find out."

What started as a friendly game quickly turned into a battle of wills. Alexia was competitive—of course she was—and so were you. The teasing escalated with every round, laughter mixing with accusations of cheating and exaggerated groans when one of you lost.

"You’re so smug," you complained after she won yet another hand, narrowing your eyes at her grin.

"I can’t help it if I’m naturally talented," she said, leaning back with a satisfied stretch. You huffed, shuffling the deck with determination. 

You shook your head, chuckling despite yourself. “Naturally talented, huh? What are you, a professional at everything?”

Alexia’s eyes glinted with mischief as she met your gaze. “Maybe I am. What, you think I’m just a pretty face?”

You smirked. “Well, you definitely have that covered.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer with that playful glint still in her eyes. “Is that all I’ve got going for me?”

The teasing banter felt easy, like it was picking up right where you’d left off, but there was an undeniable undercurrent now. Something more than just flirting. The way her gaze lingered on yours, the subtle brush of her fingers as she reached for the cards—it was all more than casual, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull between you. The tension, while fun, was impossible to ignore. Every move, every word seemed to carry some weight you hadn’t anticipated. And yet, you couldn’t seem to look away, couldn’t pull yourself out of the moment.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, dropping your cards onto the table, suddenly serious. “Maybe there’s more to you than I thought.”

Alexia didn’t reply right away. Instead, she studied you for a moment, as if weighing something. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, warm and a little shy. “Maybe there’s more to you than I thought too.”

The shift in the air between you both was subtle, but undeniable. What had started as a game, as friendly banter and teasing, now felt like the beginning of something more—something deeper, something that could easily change everything.

You stared at her for a moment, feeling that familiar pull again, the one that made your heart race just a little faster. It was a mix of excitement and uncertainty, but for once, you didn’t want to pull away.

“How about one more round?” you suggested, trying to bring the conversation back to a lighter place, even though your heart was no longer in the game.

Alexia smirked, her eyes soft with something unspoken. “Sure,” she said, gathering the cards again. “But this time, I’m not going easy on you.”

You laughed, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of nerves and anticipation that lingered between you. As the game continued, you both slipped into the easy rhythm of being around each other, but the weight of the unspoken things between you never quite faded.

As the evening continued, the conversation after your card game continued to flow easily, a mixture of playful teasing and comfortable silence. But as the last of the wine was poured and the cards were pushed aside, Alexia suddenly sat up, her expression shifting slightly. Pulled herself up from the floor and grabbed the remote.

“Alright,” she said, grinning at you, “I’m getting kind of bored now. What do you say we do something else?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Popcorn and basketball,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious suggestion in the world.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Popcorn and basketball? You’re not gonna pretend to know what you’re watching, are you?”

Alexia shot you a playful glare, standing straighter. “Hey, I came to your games, didn’t I? I know what’s going on.”

You grinned, raised an eyebrow whilst folding your arms as you leaned back against the couch. “Really? So, what exactly is going on when I’m running up and down the court, making shots, calling plays, and getting physical with the other team?”

She crossed her arms, a mock-defensive look crossing her face. “I know you’re good. That’s all I need to know.”

You grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Alright, but next time you come to one of my games, I’m gonna need you to understand why I’m doing all that, not just cheer because I make a shot.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay. I’ll work on it. But hey, I can still appreciate the athleticism, alright?”

You laughed. “Fair enough. But tell me, when I’m setting up for a fast break, do you know what I’m doing?”

Alexia looked at you for a second, clearly trying to figure it out, clearly trying to come up with a response that wouldn’t make her sound too clueless.  “I mean, you’re… running fast?”she guessed, her tone dripping with uncertainty.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out a chuckle. “Well, yeah, that’s not wrong, I guess. But you’re kind of missing the whole point here, it’s all about timing, spacing, and catching the defence off guard.”

She tilted her head, clearly still trying to piece it all together. “So, you’re saying it’s not just you running around like a maniac?”

“Exactly,” you said, smirking. “There’s strategy behind all of it.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, teasing now. “Well, I’m glad to know it’s not just you going wild on the court. You’ve been playing for a while, right? I assumed there had to be some method to the madness.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “Hey, I’ll let you keep thinking that. But you’re definitely missing out on understanding the real strategy behind the game.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, alright, I get it. I don’t understand all the technical stuff. But I watch, okay? I cheer for you. That should count for something.”

You leaned forward a little, your voice teasing. “It counts for a lot, actually. But next time, don’t just cheer because everyone else does”

She threw a pillow at you, laughing as she did. “Hey! I’m trying!”

You caught the pillow, tossing it back at her. “I know, I know. You’ve got the spirit. You just need to work on the details.”

“Alright,” she said with a grin, “I’m putting on a basketball game, and you’re going to talk me through it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously asking me to explain basketball to you while you watch?”

Alexia smirked, sitting down on the sofa you were leaning back against and making herself comfortable. “Yeah, I want to know what’s going on. I’m watching, but I don’t get half of it. So now, you’re going to break it down for me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you get overwhelmed.”

She crossed her arms, feigning seriousness. “I can handle it. Just… make it simple.” You rolled your eyes getting to your feet putting one leg under you as she sat on the sofa tilted slightly towards her.

You leaned forward, ready to explain, but before you could start, the game began on the screen. You turned your attention to the court, then back to Alexia, who was watching you intently.

“Okay, so right now, you’re going to see the offence trying to get an open shot,” you began, pointing to the players moving across the court. “Right now, they’re setting up their plays. That’s when you see players passing and cutting through the defence to get open. The goal is to get a clean shot at the basket.”

Alexia nodded slowly, though she still seemed a little confused. “Okay, so when they pass, it’s not random?”

“Nope, nothing in basketball is random,” you said, smirking. “They’ve been trained to work as a unit, which means every pass, every movement, has a purpose. Like this one right here.” You pointed to a quick pass to the player on the perimeter. “They’re trying to find a mismatch, someone who’s either faster or stronger than their defender.”

Alexia watched closely as the play unfolded. “Okay, I think I’m getting it.”

“Good. Now watch, see how they’re moving? They’re trying to set up the pick and roll.”

She frowned, clearly lost. “Pick and roll?”

You grinned. “Alright, so the player with the ball runs toward a teammate, who then sets a screen—a pick—on the defender. The idea is to block the defender so the player with the ball can get open. The roll part? That’s when the player setting the screen runs toward the basket, hoping to get the ball for an easy shot or pass.”

Alexia watched as the play went down, her eyes widening. “Oh, I get it! That’s smart.”

You nodded. “It’s all about creating an advantage. A small opening, and you take it.”

She leaned forward, still paying attention, but then asked, “So, what happens if they don’t get the shot they want?”

“Then they reset,” you explained. “They might pass it back out to the top of the key and start again, or they’ll try a different strategy, like isolating one player to take on their defender one-on-one.”

“Right,” she said, looking at you. “So, this isn’t like just a free-for-all. There’s a plan to everything.”

“Exactly,” you said, turning your focus back to the game. “It’s a chess match, honestly. Every move counts. And just when you think you’ve figured it out, the other team can throw something unexpected your way.”

Alexia watched the game intently, glancing over at you every so often for clarification. As the game moved into the final minutes of the first half, she raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I think I’m starting to get the hang of it. So, what’s the deal with the shot clock?”

You smiled at her effort to keep up. “The shot clock is set to 24 seconds. They have to get a shot off before that time runs out. If they don’t, the other team gets the ball.”

“Ah, so it’s like a timer to keep things moving,” she mused.

“Exactly,” you said, impressed. “Keeps the game fast-paced. No one can just sit back and take their time.”

As the game continued, you kept explaining the nuances, the different plays, the positioning, the strategy. The more you talked, the more she seemed to understand. By the time the second half rolled around, she was nodding along with each move, offering her own commentary and asking deeper questions about the flow of the game.

You glanced at her, surprised at how engaged she was. “I gotta admit, you’re actually paying attention.”

Alexia smirked. “Of course, I told you I’d understand it. I just needed you to explain it like I was a complete newbie.”

You laughed. “Well, it’s not every day I get to explain basketball like this. But I’m glad you’re getting it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still not sure I understand all the stats and numbers,” she said, leaning back on the couch. “But I’m starting to see what you mean. It’s more than just running and shooting.”

“Exactly,” you said, feeling a strange satisfaction as you watched her. “It’s a lot of moving parts, a lot of thinking on your feet.”

“And I have to say,” she added, giving you a mischievous grin, “you’re not too bad at explaining it.”

You chuckled, feeling a little pride at her compliment. “Well, I am a professional.”

As the game continued, you and Alexia kept talking, but there was something different in the air now. It wasn’t the playful teasing or the edge of tension you’d felt earlier. Instead, Alexia seemed more… absentminded as she watched the game unfold. Her focus was on the screen, her questions coming faster now, almost without realising what she was doing.

You found yourself answering her questions, explaining the moves and strategies, but each time you spoke, she seemed to be leaning in just a little closer, her body subconsciously inching toward you as she tried to follow along. Her fingers, as if by accident, brushed against your arm every now and then, but she didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in the game.

“Wait, so why’d he pass it there?” Alexia asked, her eyes still glued to the screen as she absentmindedly rested her hand on your knee, not even looking at you as she spoke. “Isn’t that a weird move?”

You couldn’t help but notice how her fingers lingered for a second, her touch light but warm. You cleared your throat before answering. “No, it’s actually a pretty smart pass. He’s setting up for the next play. It’s all about timing.”

Alexia nodded, still focused on the game, and without even thinking, her hand slowly slid up to your thigh, her fingers barely grazing your skin. She was so absorbed in the game that she didn’t seem to realise just how close she was getting, or how her hand had moved. You could feel the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of your pants, but you didn’t move away. Instead, you just watched her, waiting for her to notice.

“Wait, that guy’s way too open, right?” she asked, frowning as the ball was passed to a completely unguarded player. Her fingers tightened on your leg for just a second, though she didn’t seem to be aware of it. “How does that happen? That’s gotta be a mistake.”

“Yeah, it’s a mistake. The defence is supposed to switch faster,” you explained, your voice a little distracted now, because her hand was still there, and it was starting to feel a little… different. “But honestly, it happens sometimes. People lose focus.”

Alexia hummed in response, still not looking at you, her attention fully on the game. But she didn’t move her hand, and it was hard to ignore the way her fingers idly traced small circles on your thigh, completely unaware of how much she was affecting you. It wasn’t a bold move. It wasn’t intentional. It was just Alexia, naturally leaning into the moment without even realising it.

You tried to focus on the game, but the way her touch seemed to grow more comfortable, more natural, made it harder to concentrate. Her fingers grazed the inside of your leg, brushing over you with each little gesture as she continued to ask questions. Her body was so close to yours now, her warmth seeping into your side, her breath almost mingling with yours as she leaned in.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Alexia said, her voice a little breathless now. “Why did he take that shot when there were still, like, 15 seconds on the clock?”

You turned your head slightly to answer, but when you looked at her, you found that her eyes were no longer on the screen. Instead, they were locked onto you, her gaze soft, but still focused. There was something different in the air now, something unspoken hanging between you both. You almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“Uh, well, it’s all about confidence,” you said, trying to ignore the way her hand had shifted just a little higher on your leg. “He took the shot because he thought he could make it. A lot of players go with their gut instinct, especially when the pressure’s on.”

Alexia blinked, her gaze still steady, but now she was fully aware of the way her fingers were resting on your thigh. She seemed to pause for a moment, her hand stilling just as her eyes flickered up to meet yours. She gave a little half-smile, almost sheepish, before pulling her hand back as if she’d just realised what she’d been doing.

“Sorry,” she murmured, a little embarrassed, but there was still that same playful spark in her eyes. “I guess I got a little too… comfortable there.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, trying to make light of the situation. “It’s okay. You’re just getting into the game.”

Alexia gave you a small smile, but the way her fingers were still tingling from the brief contact, you could tell she wasn’t entirely sure if she should pull away or lean in again. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, before she straightened up, returning her attention to the screen. “So, should I pay attention to the last few seconds?” she asked, her voice lighter now, as though trying to brush off the tension that had briefly hung between you both.

You grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Definitely. Trust me, things get crazy at the end.” You both fell back into the flow of things, with Alexia’s questions and casual touches becoming part of the rhythm, like they’d always been there.

As the game reached its final minutes, Alexia’s questions became more frequent, her eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and you. Her hand had found its way back to your knee, though now, it was more relaxed, as if she was simply resting there, but you could feel the warmth of her touch all the same. She didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she was pretending not to. Either way, you weren’t pulling away.

The game was getting intense, and you couldn’t help but get sucked into the action as well. You’d been answering her questions without thinking too much about it, but now, as the score tightened and the players on the screen fought for every second, you found yourself leaning forward a little, your focus sharpening.

Alexia, too, seemed to be more drawn into the game. She was sitting closer now, her shoulder lightly brushing against yours. Every now and then, her hand would give a small, absent-minded squeeze to your knee, but it wasn’t in a way that screamed intent. It felt natural, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it.

“Wait, what’s going on with him?” she asked suddenly, her voice almost breathless. She pointed to a player on the screen who was limping off the court. “Is he hurt?”

You nodded quickly, watching the game unfold. “Yeah, he’s got an ankle injury. It’s not too bad, but he’ll probably be out for the rest of the game.”

Alexia frowned, her brow furrowing as she watched the player leave the court, but then her hand, still resting lightly on your leg, shifted just a little. Her fingers traced a slow line down to your calf before pausing, as though she hadn’t even realized she’d moved. You swallowed, trying to keep your focus on the game, but it was hard with the weight of her hand on you, so close.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Alexia asked, her eyes narrowing slightly as the camera zoomed in on the injured player. “I mean, he looks fine to me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her questioning tone. “No, trust me, athletes don’t fake injuries like that in a game this close. He’s hurt.”

Alexia nodded, still watching intently. Then, her gaze flickered over to you again, her fingers slowly, almost absentmindedly, moving along your leg. She seemed completely unaware of the way her touch was starting to have an effect on you. It wasn’t intentional, but it was definitely happening.

As the final moments of the game ticked down, you were both on the edge of your seats, holding your breath as the last few plays unfolded. You could feel her body shift closer to yours, her knee now gently bumping against yours, and when the final whistle blew, signalling the end of the game, you both let out a collective exhale.

The score flashed on the screen—the Barcelona mens team had won.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, raising your fist in victory, only half-joking. “See? Told you it was gonna get crazy at the end.”

Alexia, her eyes still glued to the screen, gave a small, satisfied grin. “You were right,” she said, leaning back against the couch. But she didn’t pull away from you. Instead, she let her hand rest on the small of your back, as if the tension of the game had softened something between you two.

The room was quiet for a beat, both of you just letting the moment settle. Alexia didn’t seem in a hurry to pull her hand back this time. In fact, she was casually rubbing her thumb back and forth against the fabric of your shirt, her movements slow and unhurried. You didn’t pull away either. Instead, you felt a warmth spread through you from the spot where her fingers were grazing your back. Her movements became larger rubbing over your back as you watched the game analysis, at least tried to. You were struggling to focus.

You cleared your throat, trying to make the moment feel less charged, even though it was. “So, you’ve got a pretty good eye for the game, huh?”

Alexia’s eyes met yours, when you looked over your shoulder, her lips quirking up into a small, teasing smile. “I think I’ve learned from the best,” she said, her voice playful.

It was a subtle shift, but it was enough for you to notice. The playful vibe was still there, but there was a new kind of intimacy between you now—one that hadn’t been there before. Her hand didn’t leave your back, and neither did your gaze. Neither of you seemed willing to move.

“Guess I have to keep teaching you then,” you said, your voice softer now, a hint of something more behind your words.

“Guess so.”

Her touch was warm against your skin, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, sitting together on the couch, the last echoes of the game playing in the background. When you finally sat back her hand found your leg, it felt like a promise—small, unspoken, but enough to make your heart race.

Without thinking, you let your hand find hers, gently covering it. It wasn’t an aggressive move, just a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of her unspoken intent.

Alexia’s eyes flickered to your hand, and for a moment, she seemed surprised, but then she relaxed, letting her fingers curl under yours. Her touch was warm, comfortable, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly at ease.

“Next time,” Alexia whispered, her lips barely brushing against your ear, “I think I’ll understand the game a little better.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand softly. “I think you will.”

And in that moment, everything else seemed to melt away—there was no tension, no confusion, just the two of you, slowly figuring each other out in the most natural way possible.

Alexia’s eyes darkened just slightly, a knowing look flashing in her gaze before she reached for her glass again, her fingers brushing yours once more. But this time, she didn’t pull away immediately. She let the contact linger, just for a beat longer than necessary, before she took a sip of her drink.

You couldn’t help but watch her, your breath hitching slightly at how natural it seemed. The way she moved, the way she looked at you—it was different now. And you liked it.

She caught you staring, her lips curving upward. “You know,” she began softly, her voice lower now, almost like a challenge, “I’ve wondered what would have happened if we were somewhere more private than that balcony that night.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the implication clear, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. But that wasn’t going to stop her.

Alexia shifted closer, her hand back on your thigh, dangerously high. The warmth of her touch, the way she seemed to study you, made your stomach flip. You glanced at her, trying to stay composed, but it was hard when she was this close, her scent filling your senses, her presence almost overwhelming in the best way.

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “About… how much we held back, even when it felt like we shouldn’t.”

Her hand moved ever so slightly, just brushing the fabric above your panties, and you felt a flicker of something ignite deep inside you. Without thinking, your own hand reached out, settling gently on her arm. The contact was light at first, but it was enough to send a shiver through both of you.

“Yeah?” You found your voice again, though it was rougher than you expected. “And what do you think would have happened?”

Alexia’s eyes glinted with something a little darker, a little bolder than before. “I think maybe I would of gotten to taste you”

You didn’t have time to process her words before she was moving just a little closer, her lips hovering just out of reach. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you faded into the background. There was nothing but the electricity between you, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Your pulse was racing, your chest tight, and you could feel the heat of her body so close to yours.

Her lips were so near, but not quite touching, teasing you with the promise of something more. Every inch of you screamed to close the gap, to feel the press of her lips against yours, but something held you back. You were both hovering on the edge of something you couldn’t take back.

Alexia’s breath was warm against your skin, her hand inching ever closer, the anticipation almost unbearable. She watched you, waiting, testing the limits, daring you to make the first move.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening on her arm, needing something to hold on to. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Alexia’s lips. “I know,” she whispered, her hand finally settling on your hip, her touch grounding, yet still sending jolts of heat through your body. “But I think I’ve always been one for danger.”

You could hear the challenge in her voice, feel the weight of her words in the space between you. It was a risk, but you knew you couldn’t walk away from it now.

Your hand slowly travelled up her arm finding its resting place on her jaw, your thumb brushed her lips and before you could think further, you closed the distance, your lips pressing softly against hers. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters, as you moved to lay on the sofa her hovering over you. But as the seconds passed, it deepened, and everything else seemed to fade away.

The warmth of her body against yours, the feeling of her hand on your skin, it was intoxicating. You could taste the sweetness of her kiss, the lingering edge of something both familiar and new. And in that moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered except the two of you, together.

The kiss broke for a brief second, her forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily, trying to gather your thoughts.

“Here or bedroom?,” Alexia whispered, her voice thick with desire, you pulled her back down into a kiss.

“Neither” you smirked, “Not tonight”

Alexia grumbled making you laugh, “Seriously?”

You hummed into the next kiss, “This maybe Sex Putellas but I'm not that easy”

You felt Alexia smirk as her lips found your neck, "Stay" she whispered, "So I can kiss you at least"

Your breath caught, the words catching fire against your skin. Her voice was low—soft, but certain—the kind that didn’t ask, didn’t beg. It claimed.

You didn’t answer right away. Couldn't.

Because suddenly, time had narrowed down to the point of her mouth on your skin, the weight of her presence on you, and the impossible heat blooming where her hand now rested at your waist.

“Alexia...” you breathed, half a warning, half a prayer.

She smiled against your collarbone, the curve of it unmistakable. "Just a kiss,” she murmured, “... unless you ask for more.”

You brought your hands to her jaw raising her head, finally facing her. And the look in her eyes—steady, dangerous, beautiful—told you this wasn’t just going to be a kiss for long.

You really needed to have that conversation you wanted sooner rather than later . You weren't sure how long you could show this restraint for.

---

I know what you all want, you'll get it soon 😉

[sweetvoidstuff]

Just a Normal Night: Seoul Edition

Jungkook x Reader I Modern AU I Chance Encounter I Fluff I Romance

Summary: You visited Seoul to spend time with Jungkook in person—finally closing the distance between you again. In his presence, everything felt fuller, brighter, more real. Even if others might overlook you. It wasn’t just a trip; it was a reminder of what you both were building together.

Word Count: 15K

Masterlist

Just a Normal Night

Just a Normal Night: Missing You

A/N: Just a quick note on formatting: Bold text is used for dialogue spoken in Korean. Italic text represents internal thoughts or feelings. Normal text is used for dialogue spoken in English.

I hope this helps make things easier to follow while reading. Thanks so much for giving my story a chance!

PS: Really afraid to post this after all the love the first part got.

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You stood at the airport, fingers curled around the handle of your carry-on, eyes flicking occasionally to the flight information board above. The gate number had just been announced, and you were now officially waiting—your first international flight, and, unsurprisingly, your first time flying business class. The weight of that reality hadn’t quite settled yet.

Phone in hand, you opened your messages and quickly typed out a note to Jungkook: “Found my gate. Just waiting now 😊” As usual, it took a while for him to respond. That was something you’d grown used to. Being with Jungkook was like living in an echo—conversations happening slightly out of sync, affection delivered in delayed but meaningful beats.

It still felt surreal sometimes. The way you'd met him, how easily he had slipped into your life that first night—like he'd always been part of it. You'd welcomed him into your circle of friends without question, as if he was just some guy, not the Jeon Jungkook. That night together had been more than just impulsive—it had been oddly right. Real. And yet, somehow, the deeper emotional connection only started forming after the physical one.

The last few days of his vacation had been spent in the most ordinary ways—wandering your city, drinking coffee, watching dumb reality shows, laughing at inside jokes that formed way too fast. It had all been strangely easy. Strangely intimate.

One afternoon, you'd sat down with his lawyer and signed a non-disclosure agreement. That had been the one jarring moment. Formal. Cold. You remembered how Jungkook had kept glancing at you, like he was waiting for you to flinch or back out. You hadn’t. You’d just signed, asked for a pen that didn’t smudge, and moved on. If anything, it made him more affectionate afterward. Like he’d realized you were serious.

And then—he was gone. Just like that. Back to his world of stages and cameras, press schedules and airport chaos. You hadn’t put a label on anything. There had been no ‘are we something’ conversation, no dramatic goodbye. Just a kiss that lingered, and a promise to stay in touch.

You did. As often as time zones and chaos allowed, you texted, sent photos, shared voice notes. Sometimes hours passed between replies. Sometimes whole days. But the rhythm was steady. The thread stayed unbroken. Now, here you were. Sitting at an airport gate, boarding pass tucked inside your passport, heart a mess of nerves and excitement.

You were flying to Seoul.

To see him.

And even if nothing was official, even if the words hadn’t been said aloud—you couldn’t deny it anymore. This meant something.

You’d fought him on the visit at first. Not about going—God, no. You wanted to see him. Missed him. Dreamed of him. But the cost of an international flight was no joke, and your budget had limits. It would’ve taken you at least two more months to save up, even if you lived off instant noodles and cut every corner. You had told him so, somewhat shyly, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. Jungkook, in true Jungkook fashion, had looked at you through a video call and simply said, “Don’t be stupid. A plane ticket isn’t going to bankrupt me.”

You’d groaned at that, partly amused, partly exasperated—and it sparked a longer conversation, one you were glad you had. Because just like that, money had become the shadow in the room. Not between you emotionally—he’d never made you feel less—but between your lives. The very real difference in scale. Jungkook could buy anything. Fly anywhere. And while he never flaunted it, you didn’t want to start something that made you feel like a kept secret, or worse, a guest in his world.

You’d told him you didn’t want gifts. Didn’t want him throwing money around to impress you. You just wanted him. He’d listened. Really listened. And then explained that paying for your flight wasn’t about spoiling you—it was about making it easier to be with you, when his job made it nearly impossible with the upcoming album to travel freely where he wanted to be. “If it were up to me, I’d be flying to you,” he’d said quietly. “But it’s not. So please, let me do this.”

In the end, you’d agreed. But you’d made your stance clear. He could cover the flights—but you’d pack your own toiletries, bring your own snacks, and cover your fun expenses while you were there. You weren’t arriving with empty hands.

So now, here you were.

About to board a flight to Seoul. Staying for three weeks. It still didn’t feel entirely real. Another small argument you’d had: accommodations.

You’d offered to book a hotel—at your own expense, no frills needed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be close to him. It was just... staying with him felt like a big step. Like something official. Something people in actual relationships did. But Jungkook hadn’t even let you finish the sentence.

“No.” One word. Flat. Final.

You blinked at him through the video call, and he softened when he saw your face. He wasn’t mad—just adamant. Steady in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“I want you home,” he’d said quietly. “I want to fall asleep next to you. Wake up next to you. I don’t want to waste time driving across the city every night to drop you off like you’re temporary.”

And then he added the real kicker, the one you hadn’t thought of: “And if I come to your hotel… if someone sees me there, sees you there—paparazzi could have a field day. I don't want you dragged into that. You don’t deserve that kind of attention.”

You understood, of course. It made sense. Practical, even. You knew what world he lived in—and what came with it. But it still felt weird. Like stepping into a role you hadn’t auditioned for. You weren’t his girlfriend—not officially. You hadn’t had that talk. You hadn’t labeled anything. Yet here you were, planning to sleep in his bed. In his space. With his driver picking you up. Like you belonged there.

The dissonance was strange. Sweet, but strange.

Still, he wanted this. And if you were being honest with yourself, so did you. So you’d caved, of course. Not because you didn’t have boundaries—but because that quiet, vulnerable side of him? The one that peeked through his fame and confidence? That version of Jungkook you couldn’t say no to.

So you were going to his home. A private driver was going to meet you at Incheon airport with a small placard bearing your name—another thing you didn’t really need, but Jungkook had insisted on, citing security and comfort. And once the workday was over, once he was done being the global superstar the world knew him as, you’d finally see him again.

Not on a screen. Not through messages. But in person.

So you packed for Seoul. Not like you were meeting your maybe-boyfriend. No—like you were about to walk into something quietly important. Something real.

And the thought of seeing him again—offstage, unfiltered—made your stomach knot with something dangerously close to excitement.

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The flight had been as comfortable as a long-haul business class flight could be—plush seats, a quiet cabin, even a decent meal you didn’t have to pay extra for. You’d done your best to relax, but anticipation buzzed beneath your skin, tugging at your nerves the closer the plane got to Seoul.

At the arrivals gate, your driver had held up a discreet sign with your name. He was polite, maybe a little stiff at first, trying hard to speak English as he helped with your luggage. But when you replied in Korean—halting but clear—his face visibly brightened in relief. The ride became lighter after that. Your Korean had improved quickly in the last few weeks, mostly out of necessity. Daily conversations with Jungkook had turned from playful chaos to something deeper, smoother. You still stumbled over grammar, and your spelling was a disaster, but you made it work. And he always answered patiently, even when you texted him three different ways to ask the same question.

The driver brought you straight to Jungkook’s apartment. It was late afternoon, the sky a watercolor mix of soft greys and warm golds, the city humming in the background. Jungkook wasn’t home yet, caught up with work, but the door code worked just like he said it would. The space inside was quiet and immaculately clean—modern, tasteful, and subtly masculine. Not cold, though. Not with the welcome you got.

Because the moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by a tall, sleek doberman trotting toward you, ears perked and tail wagging slow and steady. Bam. You crouched instinctively, hand held out, heart thudding a little—he was much bigger than you'd expected from old videos. But he sniffed your fingers, let out a soft huff, and nudged his head under your palm.

You melted immediately.

Bam followed you around the apartment like a quiet shadow while you explored only the spaces Jungkook had told you were fine to use. You didn’t go into his bedroom, unsure if that was too much. You felt like an intruder, a guest in something delicate, even though he had been the one to insist you stay here. You were still wrapping your head around it—this whole thing. You. Him. Here.

Jetlag hit like a freight train not long after. You curled up on the big living room couch, your travel bag still half unpacked in the corner. Bam, loyal and massive, hopped up beside you with a low grunt and carefully tucked himself against your side. His weight was comforting. His presence grounding.

You sent Jungkook a quick message:

You: i’m here. bam says hi. talk soon <3

You passed out before you saw his reply.

Later that evening, Jungkook stepped into his home quietly, the soft sound of the door the only warning. He didn’t call out. Just slipped off his shoes and padded in, shoulders loose with exhaustion—until he turned the corner and saw you.

You were curled up in the middle of his living room, tangled in a throw blanket, mouth parted slightly in sleep. One arm was draped around Bam, who was nestled against you like a guard and a traitor all in one. His eyes flicked open at the sound of his master entering, but he didn’t move—he just blinked lazily and stayed close to you. He couldn’t remember the last time Bam had taken to someone that quickly—or that completely.

Jungkook stood there a long moment, completely still, a soft ache blooming in his chest.

It wasn’t the sight of you in his home.

It was how right it looked.

You, barefoot and flushed from sleep, his dog choosing you without hesitation. You fitting into his space like you’d always belonged there.

He smiled slowly, heart warm and full, and whispered so quietly that neither of you heard it:

“Welcome home.”

He approached slowly, kneeling beside the couch and gently rubbing behind Bam’s ear. The dog grumbled, low and disgruntled, when Jungkook nudged him away, resisting for a moment before finally huffing and hopping down with reluctant steps. He gave Jungkook a betrayed look before slinking off to his usual spot in the corner, flopping down with a groan of effort.

You stirred faintly in your sleep, your hand reaching absently for the warmth that had just left your side. A soft whimper left your lips as your arm fell against empty cushions. Jungkook's heart ached.

But he didn’t let you stay cold for long. With practiced care, he maneuvered into the space Bam had just vacated, lifting the blanket slightly and slipping in beside you. You mumbled something in your sleep, brow furrowed briefly before it smoothed out again when his arm circled your waist. You exhaled slowly and relaxed into him, instinctively curling closer, your head tucking beneath his chin like it belonged there.

He wasn’t tired. Not really. Adrenaline still buzzed faintly in his veins from a long day, but lying there with you in his arms melted every ounce of tension in his body. The way you fit against him. The steady rise and fall of your breathing. It was all too easy to close his eyes and let himself fall.

Still, from past experience, Jungkook knew the jet lag would catch up to you fully in a few hours. You’d wake in the middle of the night, confused and out of place, maybe even a little anxious in the unfamiliar dark. He wanted to be there for that moment—to meet it with calmness and quiet company.

So he stayed, anchored to you. He would wake with you. He would walk you through the time zone shift and sleepy confusion and maybe heat up some tea. And then he’d hold you again, as long as you’d let him. For now, though, he simply breathed you in and let himself drift.

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You woke up groggy and disoriented, your mind struggling to place the moment. For a few seconds, it was like surfacing from a deep, unfamiliar dream—blinking into the darkness, unsure where you were, let alone what year it was. And then you felt it. A warm arm draped tightly around your waist. A solid chest beneath your cheek, rising and falling in a calm rhythm. Someone was holding you—and for a panicked breath, your heart jumped into your throat.

But the scent hit you a second later—warm cotton, clean skin, and something faintly musky and familiar. Jungkook. You exhaled in relief, sinking back down into him with a soft sigh, the tension draining from your muscles all at once. Oh, right. Seoul. His apartment. Your nap on the couch with Bam. You hadn’t expected to fall asleep for so long—or to wake up like this. With him.

A low, husky groan rumbled beneath your ear, followed by the gravel-soft voice you’d missed hearing in person.

“You awake? … Awake?”

His voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, rough with sleep, brushing against your skin like velvet. You hummed an answer, still not fully ready to rejoin the world. You could’ve stayed like this a little longer, maybe forever—but the haze of jet lag was clearing, and restlessness had started creeping in.

You shifted slightly, intending to sit up—but Jungkook’s arm tightened around you, the pressure a little too firm for someone half-asleep, his strength not yet tethered by full consciousness.

“Hey,” you whispered with a sleepy laugh. “That’s my… back you’re cracking.”

He grunted, barely lifting his head, and loosened his hold—just enough to still keep you against him. You didn’t really mind. After so many weeks apart, after only seeing him through flickering screens and filtered photos, being this close to him again felt surreal. Grounding. Like your whole body remembered something your mind was still catching up to.

After a long moment of quiet, just the two of you breathing each other in, Jungkook’s voice came again, still a little slurred. “Wanna eat? I could make something…” At the mere mention of food, your stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl, betraying you completely. You laughed softly, hiding your face in his chest.

“I mean… yes,” you murmured, “but no. Go back to sleep. I’m not moving.”

But Jungkook was already sitting up, dragging you with him like a giant human blanket. His arms stayed wrapped around you as he shifted, and his head dipped to your neck, lips brushing against your skin as he buried his nose there and sighed.

“You smell different,” he mumbled against your collarbone.

“Is that a complaint?” you teased, still half-draped over him.

“No.” He shook his head lightly. “Just… missed it.”

You smiled, a little dazed, and tucked your arms around him tighter. You were both a little stiff, your backs mildly protesting from the awkward sleep on the couch, but honestly? There were worse ways to start a day than tangled up with him, sore but smiling, in the quiet cocoon of morning.

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You’d arrived on a Thursday, so you woke up Friday morning—jet lagged and disoriented, but wrapped in Jungkook’s sheets and warmth. The day had started slow and soft, exactly the way it should when you’d just flown halfway across the world. And honestly, waking up at an absurd hour because of jet lag had its perks, because you had woken up early, and that only gave you more time to start the day gently. The world was quiet. Still. Yours.

Jungkook stayed near you that morning, brewing coffee and making toast like it was a sacred ritual. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. The way he moved around you, careful and present, already said enough.

It was easy to fall into something like a routine. Too easy, maybe. Like you never left each other’s side.

He’d cleared as much of his schedule as possible before your arrival and only had to leave for dance practice that day. Then the weekend would be entirely yours. Even the week after, he’d made sure to carve out as much time with you as possible. There’d be a few appointments he couldn’t skip, but nowhere near as many as usual. He wanted to be around you. He’d made that very clear. Not that he needed to say it out loud. The way he hovered around you that morning, stealing lazy kisses like he had all the time in the world, said it better than words ever could.

He wanted you involved—you could feel it in the way he clung to each moment with you, unwilling to waste even a second—to show you his world the way you had shown him yours. One of those ways included tagging along to his dance practice, where Taehyung and Yoongi were set to join. He’d already talked to them about you—casually, naturally, like you were simply part of his life. He’d even gone the extra mile to make sure nothing major would be filmed that day, just in case you ended up on camera.

That part made your chest warm in a way you didn’t know how to name.

Yoongi and Taehyung had known about you for weeks now, ever since that night Jungkook had been on vacation, since the night he had wrote them about you. He hadn’t meant to fall for anyone really—especially not someone outside the industry. But you didn’t orbit him like so many others did. You’d walked straight into his life, and instead of pulling away, he’d let you stay.

They’d seen the shift in him. The quieter smiles, the full nights of sleep, the way he stopped mindlessly scrolling late at night because he was on the phone with you instead. He wasn’t seeing anyone else. He didn’t want to. Still, you and Jungkook weren’t officially together, not in any public or defined sense—but even that felt like a technicality.

They knew enough to know that whatever this was, it mattered.

That said, the dance practice didn’t start with any proper introductions.

Yoongi and Taehyung arrived barely on time—Yoongi blaming traffic, Taehyung blaming his iced coffee addiction—and both of them gave you brief but warm nods as they breezed into the studio. There wasn’t a second to spare. The choreographer was already running warm-ups, and Jungkook had been pulled aside for notes on the updated routine.

So no handshakes, no formalities. Just quick glances and quiet acknowledgments. You weren’t offended. You were just grateful Jungkook had brought you along.

The dance studio was enormous and dimly lit in that moody, creative sort of way, mirrors lining one wall, the faint scent of sweat and fabric softener clinging to the air. You’d taken a seat against the mirrored wall, laptop open, tapping away occasionally—but mostly you were watching him. Quietly. Intently. The way Jungkook moved—precise but fluid, powerful and impossibly graceful—it was like watching sound come to life. He'd worried you'd be bored watching him for hours. But you weren’t. Not even close.

You weren’t sure he’d ever believe how easily he captivated you just by being himself. What was harder to enjoy, however, was the female background dancer paired with him in the choreography. From a purely professional perspective, she was skilled. Confident. She executed the routine well. But you weren’t oblivious. Every touch that lingered just a second too long, every extra flick of her eyes toward Jungkook, every unnecessary smile—it all added up. She was trying.

And though Jungkook was polite—ever the professional—you could see the discomfort beginning to pinch at his expression in brief, subtle flickers. Still, the routine required proximity, some contact, a storyline. And no matter how much he dialed back, there was only so much he could do in front of a full room.

And you weren’t the only one noticing.

Taehyung had paused mid-stretch, one arm hooked behind his head, his eyes scanning across the studio before they landed on you. You sat quietly, unreadable, your fingers still moving on the keyboard even as your shoulders had gone rigid. You didn’t say anything, didn’t frown or scowl or even blink too long—but the tension clung to you like smoke. Your polite smile had dulled, just slightly, around the edges. And with each unnecessary brush of the dancer’s hand against Jungkook’s chest, it faded a little more.

Every time that dancer reached for Jungkook like she wasn’t acting, like she meant it—Taehyung saw the flicker in your expression. The stillness behind your eyes. Like you were trying not to flinch. Yoongi caught it too. He’d sat himself against the opposite wall, his back against the mirror, pretending to scroll through his phone—but he was watching both of you with quiet calculation. He didn’t need to say anything. Neither of them did.

Jungkook caught it too. He was watching you through the mirror when he thought no one would notice.

Between movements, he glanced in the mirror—and saw you sitting there, trying to focus on your work, trying not to let any emotion leak through. But he knew you. He’d memorized every micro-expression, every twitch of your fingers. And he hated the way your jaw had tensed the moment someone else’s hands had found their way to his skin for to long.

“Break,” he called, cutting off the music mid-count. “Can we take ten?”

The dancer—persistent as ever—stepped toward him, her voice light and playful. “Want to grab water together?”

Jungkook didn’t even blink. “No. I need the room for a second,” he said, gaze flicking to Yoongi and Taehyung. “You guys can stay. Just—everyone else out, please.”

His tone wasn’t unkind. Just final. The dancer blinked, clearly thrown, but didn’t push it. One by one, the others filed out, some tossing curious glances back, sensing the undercurrent but not quite placing it. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the quiet hum of the AC and the soft squeak of rubber soles in its wake. You looked up from your laptop as Jungkook approached, breath still heavy, sweat at his temples. He stopped a few feet in front of you, his jaw tight.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, voice low enough for only you, to hear. “I didn’t like that and...”

You tilted your head, offering a half-hearted shrug, trying to play it off with a weak smile. “I know it’s your job.”

“I know,” he echoed, already reading everything behind your eyes. “But it didn’t feel right. And she knew what she was doing.”

Taehyung, ever tactful when he wanted to be, stood and stretched with exaggerated effort. “Yoongi-hyung, I think I need coffee. Right, now. Like, desperately.”

Yoongi didn’t even look up from where he was kneeling to tie his shoes. “I thought you were cuttingback on coffee.”

“I lied.” Taehyung replied smoothly.

The two of them disappeared without another word, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the quiet, mirror-lined studio. The door clicked shut behind them, and Jungkook slowly sank down to kneel in front of you. He reached out but didn’t touch you yet, like he needed to explain something before he earned that right again.

“She’s a coworker. That’s it,” he said, eyes locked onto yours. “But it didn’t look like that, did it?” You didn’t answer right away. Your silence must’ve said enough, because Jungkook’s lips pressed into a tight line.

“I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve shut it down the second she tried.” His hands curled into loose fists in his lap. “You flew across the world to be here. And I just stood there and let her touch me like that in front of you.”

“She’s not a stranger to you,” you said, gently—not accusing, but not softening the truth, either.

“She is,” Jungkook said firmly. “I’ve danced with her maybe twice before. We don’t talk. I don’t want her. I just—” He sighed and sat back a little, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe I should talk to the choreographer. Ask if we can change that section. Or switch the dancer.” Jungkook was rambling now. As if talking more to himself than you.

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I don’t want her touching me like that again,” he said, the words fast, almost rushed like he’d been holding them in. “Not just because of what it looked like—because I hated how it felt. She knew what she was doing.”

You nodded. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”, you said softly, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t care,” Jungkook said, leaning closer. “I’ve been in relationships where jealousy ruined everything. Accusations, silence, punishment. It got ugly. Where we spent more time questioning each other than actually being together. I don’t want that with you.”

You exhaled slowly. “I told you I understood. I’m not jealous,”, and the way you said it made him look up. “I mean, okay. I felt something. I didn’t love watching her touch you, but I’m not angry at you. I just needed to know if you saw it, too.”

“I did,” Jungkook didn’t smile. He lowered himself to sit in front of you, cross-legged, damp hair falling into his eyes. His eyes searching your face. “And I believe you when you say you understand. But understanding doesn’t mean it didn’t sting. I saw your face. You shouldn’t have to pretend like you’re fine with it just to be supportive. I don’t want you to swallow things for my sake.”

There was a pause.

“I just—” He rubbed at the back of his neck, voice quieter. “I don’t want this to be something that chips away at us, slowly. Before we even get the chance to be real.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. “You think that could happen?”

“I think I’ve seen it happen,” he admitted. “And it scares me. I’ve never had something like this before. Something that feels… good and safe and like it could actually last. I’m scared of ruining it.”

You reached out, your hand brushing his where it rested between you. “Jungkook, you’re not ruining anything.”

He looked down at your joined hands, then back at you. He nodded. “But I want you to really know it. I don’t just want to be good on stage and careful in private. I want to be someone you can trust not to hurt you, even when you’re not watching.”

You smiled, heart catching in your throat. “I trust you, Jungkook.”

He leaned forward at last, his forehead resting against yours, his hand warm as it wrapped around your fingers. He smiled, just barely, like it still didn’t feel real to hear you say that. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently to yours, his hand curling around your fingers like an anchor.

“I wish I could tell the world about you,” he murmured. “I hate hiding this. But I want to keep you close.”

You smiled, and the tension in your chest finally gave way. “Even when I barely talk and just type on my laptop?”

“Especially then,” he said, eyes glinting with warmth.

“Okay,” you murmured. Nodding. Believing.

The rest of the room faded after that. The tension began to drain from your shoulders. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and let him pull you into a hug. You let out a little sound of protest as he hugged you tightly, your cheek squished against his chest, which was still faintly damp from earlier practice. You wrinkled your nose and tried to push lightly against him.

“Ugh, you’re sweaty, Jungkook,” you grumbled. “Now you make me sweaty.”

He leaned back just enough to look down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes and the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh?” he said, chuckling low in his throat. “Are you daring me to make you sweaty?”

Your eyes widened a fraction, caught between amusement and something heavier. Your fingers stilled against his shirt. “Jungkook—”

He grinned, his voice dropping. “Because I would really like that challenge.”

You swatted at him, but your fingers didn’t stray far. Not really. Now, standing this close, with his warmth clinging to your skin and his breath brushing the edge of your jaw, it was hard to ignore how much you’d missed him. “I’m just saying,” Jungkook murmured, pressing his lips gently against neck, “I’ve been very respectful, today. I’ve been good.”

You gave him a slow, knowing smile. “You have.”

“But I don’t want to behave anymore,” he added, lips grazing your temple. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Your stomach flipped, and your hands gripped lightly at the hem of his shirt as you leaned into him. Your voice was quiet, but certain. “I don’t.”

He hummed like he’d been waiting for that—like he already knew, but would wait for you—but needed to hear it anyway. His hands settled on your waist, grounding, careful, and his kiss was slow and deep, like he’d been holding onto it for far too long.

You lingered like that—just a moment longer—before a distant shuffle reminded you both where you were, and what was still ahead.

Because somehow, as practice started again after the break, even though the female dancer’s lingering glances didn’t stop, it was easier. Easier to sit through the rest of it knowing exactly where you stood with him. Easier to ignore the subtle looks she sent him during water breaks, when you knew—without even needing to check—that Jungkook’s gaze would always find yours, quietly checking in on you like he couldn't help it.

And then, eventually, practice wound down. The choreographers called it a day. Dancers peeled off in twos and threes, chatter echoing down the hall. The energy in the room began to cool, leaving behind the heavy press of silence and your quietly building nerves. You shut your laptop and packed your things slowly, fingertips tingling with leftover adrenaline—not just from practice, but from what came next.

Something Jungkook hadn’t pushed you toward.

But something he clearly wanted.

A proper introduction.

Taehyung and Yoongi lingered back as everyone else filed out, casually pretending they weren’t waiting for Jungkook’s signal. He gave it with a tilt of his head and a soft, “Hey, guys—come meet her.”

Your stomach flipped again, harder this time.

Even though you’d heard about them from Jungkook for weeks—had seen their faces in performances, in behind-the-scenes clips, in his photos—nothing really prepared you for what it was like to meet them for real. In person. In a quiet, echoing studio where they were no longer just global icons, but his friends.

Taehyung was taller in real life, wearing a fuzzy cardigan that somehow made him look both rich and soft. He smiled like he already knew all your secrets. Yoongi moved slower, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable but not unfriendly. And they were still international superstars, no matter how casually they approached.

You smiled nervously but held your ground. “Hi. I’m—uh—”

“We know,” Taehyung grinned, stepping forward first. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement. “Took him long enough.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the warmth begin to settle in your chest. Jungkook stepped beside you, still in his sweat-damp shirt, looking slightly more nervous than you were.

“I’ve told them about you,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Like… a lot.”

There was a soft pause—one of those rare moments that wasn’t awkward, just gently charged. Everyone in the room knew Jungkook didn’t bring people around often. Definitely not women. Definitely not ones who made him rearrange his whole schedule and his whole mood.

Taehyung tilted his head a little, eyeing you with interest—but not the sharp, assessing kind you were worried about. Just the warm curiosity of someone who'd heard too much secondhand and was finally getting to fill in the blanks.

“So,” he began casually, hands in his pockets, “how do you like Seoul so far?”

You smiled, grateful for the low-pressure question. “Honestly? I haven’t seen that much of it yet. But what I have, I’ve liked a lot.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Wait, seriously? You haven’t shown her anything yet?”

You gave an innocent shrug just as Taehyung groaned, dramatically scandalized. “Jungkookie! What are you even doing?”

Jungkook held up both hands. “She’s staying a while, okay? I was gonna show her around—just not yet. We’ve been resting first!”

You laughed, nudging him with your hip. “To be fair, I did need to recover from the flight.”

“Still,” Yoongi muttered, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “You bring someone all the way here and don’t even take her to Han River. Rookie mistake.”

“Not even Hongdae?” Taehyung added, hand to his chest like he was offended on Seoul’s behalf.

“I will!” Jungkook said, exasperated and laughing now. “We have time. You all act like I’m messing this up already,” Jungkook grumbled, running a hand through his hair, but his smile gave away that he was enjoying the teasing. “Can I live?”

“Barely,” Taehyung shot back, grinning.

You chuckled softly, watching the exchange with a growing sense of ease. “It’s okay, really. He showed me his home so far , so we’ve been kind of a homebody since I got here.”

“Homebody with him?” Taehyung asked, teasing. “That’s dangerous.”

You laughed softly. “He’s alright. A little dramatic sometimes.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Me? Dramatic?”

“You said Bam was a traitor because he cuddled with me.” You raised a brow at him.

“He is my puppy,” he defended, then added quieter, “You already like him more…”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself.

 Yoongi made a disgusted face. “Okay, can we not flirt in 4K right now?”

Taehyung grinned wide, clearly enjoying himself. But before the teasing could get too far, Yoongi shifted the topic with an easy tone. “You two wanna come by later? Me, Hobi, and Jimin are grabbing food. Just something casual. You could tag along.”

Jungkook shook his head, looking genuinely regretful. “Can’t tonight. We’ve got plans.” Your blush returned like a reflex, but you didn’t say anything, just adjusted the strap of your bag with sudden interest.

“Ohhh,” Taehyung said, dragging the word out, his smile going fox-like. “You just don’t want us around her too much. Worried we’ll steal her.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jungkook grumbled.

“I was planning to steal her,” Yoongi added dryly. “You are an idiot for not making a move earlier anyway.”

“That’s what we all said,” Taehyung agreed immediately. Nodding your way. “When you came back from that trip going on and on about her? All of us were like, ‘You didn’t make her your girlfriend?’ We were about ready to write you ourselves.”

“Hey!” Jungkook sounded scandalized, face burning bright red now. “She just got here!”

“You’ve been talking about her for weeks,” Yoongi deadpanned.

“Yeah, and the NDA? That was girlfriend energy,” Taehyung said, nodding toward you. “That was ride or die behavior.”

You blinked, then giggled face starting to get red as well. “I just didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Yoongi looked at Jungkook. “And this are the reactions why we all decided you are an idiot for not locking it down then and there.”

Jungkook groaned into his hands while you smiled, cheeks warm. “Okay, okay! I get it,” he said, muffled. Taehyung was practically bouncing now. “So? Did you ask her properly now, or do I have to?”

“I was going to—later!” Jungkook exclaimed, still flustered. Then, muttering as he glanced sideways at you: “I had a whole thing planned…”

You leaned in slightly, voice soft with a teasing edge. “Was it before or after sweating all over me at dance practice?”

He made an exaggerated sound of protest. “You liked that.”

You gave him a look. “Did I?”

“You did,” he said with a grin, already wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “And if you didn’t, I’ll make you like it.”

“Ugh,” Yoongi groaned, grabbing his bag. “I’m out. Text us if you two get married or something.”

“Wait, are we invited?” Taehyung asked you with a grin as he followed Yoongi.

“Depends,” you called after him, smirking. “On how much you bully him between now and then.”

“I can stop bullying him immediately. Cold turkey. Not a single jab from here on out.” Taehyung spun dramatically on his heel, hand to his chest like you’d just wounded him. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Then you’re definitely not invited.”

A beat of silence. Then—Taehyung burst into laughter, shoulders shaking as he gave Jungkook a look of exaggerated sympathy. “Man, she’s worse than us.”

“She’s better than us,” Yoongi said, already halfway out the door. “You better keep her, Jungkook. Or we will.”

Jungkook just stood there for a second, lips parting in a soft smile that made his whole face light up. His eyes flicked to you and then back to his friends, something tender settling deep in his chest. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

And as the door swung closed behind Yoongi and Taehyung’s teasing voices, Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice they were gone. His hand brushed down your back, grounding and light, his grin lingering even as he sighed like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“You know,” he murmured, “they’ve never liked anyone this fast.”

You looked up at him, lips twitching. “Even if it’s mostly just to make fun of you?”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “They like you because of that.” Then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, voice soft and filled with warmth.

▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽     

By the time you two finally made it home, it was well past dinner time. Dance practice had—as usual—run later than expected. The sky was already dark, your limbs heavy from sitting through hours of choreography and quiet nerves. Jungkook unlocked the door with one hand, the other holding three stacked takeout containers, while you shuffled in behind him, kicking off your shoes and already sighing at the familiar comfort of his apartment.

“I still think you should’ve let me carry something,” you said as you reached to take two of the boxes from him.

“And let you mess up my perfect balance?” Jungkook grinned, nudging the door shut with his heel. “I had a system.”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow as you both moved toward the kitchen. “Your system involved leaning all the containers against your face. I’m not convinced.”

“I looked cool.”

“You looked like a walking bibimbap ad.”

Jungkook let out a boyish chuckle, placing the food down on the counter. “Still cool.”

As you helped him unpack the containers, the smell of spicy rice cakes and grilled meat filled the air. You reached for the plates as he started opening the lids, already falling into a rhythm you hadn’t even realized had formed between you. He’d set the table, and you’d plate the food. He’d pull out drinks, and you’d grab chopsticks. Like you’d done it a hundred times before.

You started telling him about what you did during his practice. “Oh—Pascal and Flora say hi,” you added with a grin, referring to your two best friends from home. “They’ve been trying to find cheap flights for next time, but Flora refuses to fly economy again after last time. Apparently his spine still hasn’t forgiven him.”

Jungkook chuckled, setting two glasses of sparkling water down. “He sounds like Namjoon.”

You smirked. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then paused, chopsticks in hand, his eyes landing on you as you shifted around his kitchen like it was your own. And just like that, the moment slowed. He blinked, watching you with quiet wonder. The sound of you humming under your breath, the way you straightened the napkins even though no one would notice, the ease with which you belonged here—it all struck him harder than he expected.

Domestic. That was the word for it.

And for someone who lived most of his life on stages, in airports, and under blinding lights, the realization that something so quiet could feel this… right? It hit like a punch to the chest.

You looked over at him, catching his expression. “What? Did I use the wrong word again?”

His eyes flicked back to yours, startled from his thoughts, and he quickly shook his head. “No—no, you didn’t. Actually, your Korean’s gotten really good. Really fast.”

You beamed, proud. “I had a good teacher.”

His face lit up as he opened his mouth. “Me—”

“Eumi,” you interrupted innocently. “You know, the one I started learning with?” Jungkook let out an exaggerated groan and immediately crossed the space between you, dramatically draping himself over your back as you laughed.

“You’re so mean to me,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, his lips dangerously close. “Here I was, waiting for my praise. And you give the credit to your friend?”

You snorted. “She deserves it. She got me through verb conjugation hell.”

Jungkook groaned again, this time lower, like the betrayal physically pained him. “I knew I should’ve snatched you the moment I met you.” You rolled your eyes fondly, tilting your head just slightly into the warmth of him as you reached for the last of the banchan. “Why didn’t you? Pascal and Flora think you were a coward.”

“I was a coward,” he murmured, pressing his cheek to your shoulder. “Everyone knew it. Even the hyungs gave me shit the moment I came back from that trip.”

You laughed. “Really?”

“You should’ve seen the group chat. I told them I met someoneand a little bit about you, and instantly it was—‘Why didn’t you make her your girlfriend already?’ ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ‘Do you need me to write the text for you, Jungkook?’” He groaned softly, mimicking Yoongi’s unimpressed tone. “Namjoon even offered to draw me a diagram on how to confess.”

You grinned, clearly delighted by the image. “Poor thing. Peer-pressured into love.”

Jungkook shot you a mock glare, but it was softened by the way his eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like I didn’t want to.”

“Well…” you let the word hang teasingly in the air, plucking a piece of pickled radish from the side dish tray. “Did you actually have a plan to ask me? Or were you just bullied into into the topic by Yoongi and Taehyung?”

You expected him to laugh, to deflect the way he usually did—but instead, he hesitated. His mouth opened like he had something to say, then closed again. A beat passed. He groaned softly and leaned forward, burying his head against the crook of your neck as he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch, his breath warm on your skin.

You tilted your head to the side with a soft laugh, one hand coming up to steady the takeout container he was threatening to knock over. “What was that?”

He exhaled again, dramatically. “You’re mean.”

“You’re avoiding.” He didn’t argue. Instead, he lingered there for a few seconds more, arms tightening slightly around you before he drew back just enough to see your face. He wasn’t wearing any of his usual playful masks now. His eyes were wide, dark, sincere—and maybe a little shy. “I was just…” he began, then paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Comfortable. With you. Like—weirdly comfortable. From the start.”

Your heart stuttered a little. He wasn’t joking now. He shifted back just enough to glance at you, cheeks flushed pink, lips parted like he wasn’t sure how much more to give you without combusting. “It’s been a while since I felt that,” he admitted. “Close to someone like that. Like I could stop trying to be… whatever people want me to be.”

You blinked, taken aback by how quiet and honest his voice had become. He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flickering to the counter, then back to you. “I did have something planned,” he said. “Not yet—later. During your trip. Something better than this.” He gestured vaguely to the table with a sheepish half-smile. “I wanted to ask you properly. Like… lanterns or a rooftop or a song or something dumb like that. You know. All that rom-com bullshit people do when they like someone a lot.”

You laughed gently, chest tight in a good way.

Jungkook reached for your hand, threading your fingers together without looking down. “But yeah,” he said, voice soft and steady now. “If you’re willing to deal with the long distance, the time zones, the stupid hours, and… y’know. The cameras and sneaking around, and whatever else comes with dating me…”

He swallowed. “I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy—it was warm, tender, charged with the kind of feeling that sat low in your chest and made your throat ache with the effort of holding it in. You smiled, leaning forward just slightly, so your foreheads touched.

“I was already planning to say yes,” you murmured. “Even without lanterns.”

His expression broke open like sunrise—light and wonder and something a little awestruck. His fingers curled tighter around yours as if grounding himself in the fact that you were real, here, and choosing him. “I’m still gonna do the lantern thing,” he whispered, already imagining it. “You deserve cheesy. You deserve better than takeout and my messy kitchen.”

“You’re the cheesy one,” you said.

“Yeah, well…” He leaned back and moved toward the table as his phone started to vibrate on the counter. He glanced at his screen and let out a quiet, bemused huff.

“You okay?” you asked. He turned the phone so you could read the screen.

The group chat had been renamed:

💥 JK’S GIRL SQUAD (UNAPPROVED) 💥

Yoongi: if you don’t marry her, I will Hobi: JK still hiding her huh?? Taehyung: she’s fun!! bring her next time Namjoon: did you two eat?? hydration check??

You tried not to laugh, but a little snort slipped out anyway. “They’ve officially adopted me, haven’t they?”

▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽

You had eaten—eventually. After ignoring his group chat for long enough to quiet the buzzing guilt (and teasing), Jungkook finally gave in to your suggestion of a quiet walk with Bam. The night air had been cool and refreshing, the stars just barely visible between the city haze. Bam trotted happily beside you, his tail wagging like a metronome as Jungkook kept pace on your other side, his hand brushing yours more often than not.

Now, back in his living room, everything felt still. Comfortable.

You shifted on the couch and let your neck tilt until a faint pop echoed in the quiet. “Ugh,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your shoulders to chase the tension away. The long flight was still weighing down your limbs, even after the food and fresh air.

From the kitchen, Jungkook reappeared with two glasses of something cold. He paused mid-step as he heard the creak of your neck, his lips already quirking. “Damn, was that you or the sofa dying?” he teased, eyebrows raised in mock horror.

You gave him a tired side-eye but didn’t bother with a comeback. Your body spoke for you—slouched posture, sleepy eyes, one leg tucked under the other as you reached down to pet Bam’s soft ears. The big dog had, without hesitation, claimed your lap the second you’d sat down, curling up with a low huff of contentment like he’d been waiting all evening for that exact moment.

Jungkook crossed the room with a quiet chuckle, handing you your glass. His fingers lingered on yours for a beat longer than necessary before he let go. He hesitated, watching how you leaned gently into Bam, your fingers absentmindedly stroking between his eyes while your own blinked slower and slower.

“You sure you don’t wanna sleep? Sleep?” he asked softly, crouching beside the couch with one hand on the armrest, the other resting lightly on his knee. His voice was gentle, like he didn’t want to startle you out of your calm, but there was a note of concern in it too. “You’ve been fighting the jet lag like a champ, but it’s still catching up to you.”

You met his eyes and smiled, slow and lopsided. “Yeah, I should sleep of the rest of this stupid jet lag,” you admitted. “But I’d rather spend a little more time with you.” Your voice came out softer than you intended, the honesty in it slipping through like warm light through sheer curtains. Jungkook blinked once. Then, without hesitation—without a single ounce of his usual playful stalling—he leaned in.

There was no dramatic pause, no question asked, no teasing remark. Just the quiet shuffle of his body drawing closer, the brush of his knee against the couch cushion, and then the warmth of his mouth on yours.

His kiss was gentle, slower than the ones from earlier. Less about thrill, more about holding you there with him. It tasted faintly of citrus from whatever he’d poured into your glasses and carried the same softness you saw in his eyes when he looked at you.

One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek, his thumb sweeping lightly across your skin, like he was trying to memorize the texture of your tired smile. Bam let out a tiny groan of protest from being slightly jostled, but didn’t move.

When Jungkook finally pulled back, he was still close enough that his breath fanned across your lips. His eyes searched yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

Then, softly but firmly, he said, “No.”

You blinked, turning your head toward him. “No?”

His gaze was warm but unwavering. “You belong in bed.”

You raised a brow, ready to argue just for the sake of it—because this moment was so nice, because you didn’t want it to end—but you didn’t get the chance. Without stepping far or breaking his rhythm, Jungkook reached forward, placed both glasses neatly on the coffee table, then gently moved Bam’s head from your lap.

Bam grumbled like a toddler denied his favorite toy, but didn’t put up a fight. Maybe even he knew better. And then, before you could so much as blink, Jungkook grabbed you—swift and effortless—and tossed you right over his shoulder.

“Jungkook—!” you yelped, hands scrambling against the back of his hoodie. “Put me down! Down!”For a moment you even struggled to find the right word.

He laughed, the sound low and amused against your side as he started walking. “Nope,” he said again, like he actually enjoyed denying you.

“Jungkook!”

“I distinctly remember,” he added, shifting you slightly so he could tap the back of your thigh playfully, “someone telling me they didn’t want me to behave anymore. At least for a while.”

Your face flushed so fast it made you dizzy. “That was a different context!”

“Still counts,” he said smugly.

You buried your burning face against his back, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he carried you down the hallway like you weighed nothing. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the strength in his arms, the way his hold on you never once faltered.

He kicked open the bedroom door with one socked foot and marched straight to the bed.

Then, without ceremony, he tossed you onto the mattress like a victorious knight claiming his reward. You bounced once, letting out a startled laugh—but it cut off abruptly as Jungkook climbed over you, caging you in with one hand braced beside your head, the other gently threading into your hair.

For a beat, he just looked at you. His expression was unreadable—dark lashes lowered, lips parted slightly, something intense glinting behind the softness in his eyes. His thumb brushed along your temple, his breathing just a little uneven now. Then he leaned in, and his mouth found yours again—this time deeper, hungrier.

The warmth of him pressed down just enough to let you feel the full weight of his presence, but never so much that it overwhelmed. His hand moved in your hair, firm and grounding, and you felt the heat bloom low in your stomach. Whatever exhaustion you’d been carrying, whatever jet lag was left clinging to your bones—it vanished, scorched clean by the kiss he gave you.

Jungkook’s lips moved against yours like he couldn’t bear to stop, like the space between kisses was too wide to stand. And then, barely audible, barely a breath: “I missed you,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours. “God, I missed you…”

The words melted into your skin, into the space between your parted lips as he kissed you again—soft, reverent, and then deeper, like he was chasing the feeling. “I missed touching you,” he confessed against your cheek. “Missed how you feel, how you sound…” His voice was low, rough around the edges, like it scraped up from somewhere deeper than his lungs. “Missed you so bad.”

God, you’d missed him too—so much it hurt. So much it had snuck up on you in quiet moments when you hadn’t realized how deeply he'd settled under your skin. Now, with him over you like this—warm and solid and entirely focused on you—it was unbearable and euphoric all at once.

One of your hands slid up into his hair, threading through the dark strands, holding him close. The other drifted lower, finding where the hem of his hoodie had ridden up just slightly—leaving a sliver of warm skin along his side exposed. Your fingertips brushed against him, just barely, and Jungkook inhaled sharply, his body tensing like a pulled string.

His breath hitched. His kiss faltered for the briefest second. Then he exhaled shakily and moved lower.

His mouth trailed down from your lips to the corner of your jaw, then under your ear—slow, purposeful, almost teasing. You felt every word he wasn’t saying etched in those kisses.

You tilted your head back instinctively, giving him space, your fingers curling tighter in his hair. And when his lips met the sensitive skin of your neck, your back arched ever so slightly, a quiet sound catching in your throat.

Jungkook groaned, softly, like the sound of you alone did something to him. His hand slid down the side of your body, over your waist, anchoring you in place while his mouth kept moving—down, down, until—

He hit the neckline of your shirt. He paused. You felt him sigh, a deep and frustrated thing against your skin. His fingers flexed at your side like he was trying to decide whether to keep going or not. Then he lifted his head, gaze a little wild, lips kiss-bitten and pink.

“Too many layers,” he said hoarsely, and there was a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes burned with something else entirely.

Jungkook’s hands skimmed along your sides, warm and steady as his fingers found the hem of your shirt again. He looked down at you—really looked—and you could see it in his eyes: the hunger, yes, but also restraint. That careful, trembling line between reverence and desire.

He tugged lightly at the fabric between you, voice low and breath warm against your throat. “Can I get rid of this?” he asked, fingertips slipping just under the edge of your shirt, grazing bare skin. Your breath hitched. You met his eyes, reading the question for what it was—not just about the shirt, but everything else.

“If,” he added softly, “you are … up for this?”

A breathless laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You tilted your head back into the pillow, the flush in your cheeks rising with the tension curled tight between your hips. “Yeah,” you nodded, voice airy. “I’m up for this.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened at your answer, his grip tightening just slightly on your waist.

“But,” you added, lifting a brow as you brushed your fingers lightly over the curve of his hip, “if you were planning to keep me up all night riding you… you might want to adjust expectations.”

That got him. He let out a low, startled laugh—part amused, part aroused—his head dipping forward as if he needed a second to recover from the visual that clearly slammed into him. “Damn,” he murmured against your collarbone, his smile curling wicked. “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.”

You laughed again, softer now, but your heart was pounding. Jungkook leaned back just enough to look at you again. His eyes gleamed with mischief, heat, and something more tender tucked underneath.

“Not tonight,” he said with a quiet promise, shaking his head, though his voice dropped an octave. “Tonight’s not about that.” Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he helped you sit up just enough to ease the shirt over your head. His fingers brushed your sides, your arms, the curve of your shoulder blades as he pulled the fabric away—almost like he was unwrapping something delicate.

He tossed the shirt somewhere off to the side, not caring where it landed. Then his hands settled on your waist again, thumbs sweeping slowly across your skin. His gaze dropped for a moment—taking you in, reverent and slow—before returning to your face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost like he was telling himself, not you.

And then he was leaning in again, mouth finding yours. His kiss devoured and gave in equal measure, his body pressing just a little more fully to yours as if something inside him had finally snapped loose. Just like that, the warmth between you turned into something else.

Jungkook’s mouth found yours again, this time with more heat—no hesitation, no teasing. His kiss deepened, growing messier as his body pressed more fully against yours. One of his hands cupped your breast, his touch slow and deliberate, while the other caged you in. You felt the shift in his weight, the slow grind of his hips as he settled between your thighs.

You gasped softly into his mouth at the contact—he was already hard, the press of him insistent even through the layers of clothing still between you. Your hips tilted upward instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction. He groaned, low and broken, into your kiss. The sound thrilled you, igniting something hot and desperate in your core.

He rolled his hips again, slower this time, just to feel you respond. Your thighs squeezed around him in reflex, your nails digging slightly into his back through the fabric of his hoodie. He smiled into the kiss at your reaction, then broke away just enough to look down at you—his lips kiss-swollen, his chest rising and falling faster now. As his thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing a soft gasp from you as he explored the sensitive peak.

His tongue and lip nervously fiddle with his lip ring, his gaze flickering down your body and then back to your face like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Just so you can adjust your expectations as well,” he murmured, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, “we haven’t seen each other in a while…” You raised an eyebrow, breathless but grinning. “I’m aware.”

He swallowed, his blush darkening as his fingers tapped against the edge of your jaw. “So I might not… y’know—last long.” His voice cracked a little, and you could see just how flustered he was by the confession. But you were already shaking your head, your smile impossibly fond.

“It’s fine. No judging,” you said softly, tracing his spine with your fingertips. “And if it comes to that…” You let your voice drop as you added with a playful smirk, “I’ve got two perfectly good hands, and can just jerk myself off to an frustrated idol, no?”

Jungkook choked on a breath—his laugh a shocked, aroused rasp as he buried his face into your neck, groaning dramatically. “God, please tell me you mean me now.”

Your only answer was a breathy hum, your legs wrapping around his waist as you tilted your hips again, sending another jolt of sensation through both of you. He growled softly, biting back another moan, then started trailing kisses down the line of your throat. His hands slid from your waist to your chest, cupping your breasts through the lace of your bra, thumbs brushing experimentally over the peaks until you gasped again, arching up into his touch.

He murmured something that sounded like a curse under his breath, his mouth following the curve of your chest until he reached the valley between your breasts. He kissed you there, slow and reverent, before flicking his tongue just under the edge of your bra, lips brushing heatedly over every inch of newly exposed skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he tugged gently at the band of your pants.

“Off,” he whispered hoarsely, not quite begging, but close.

You nodded, helping him as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants. The fabric slid down your hips, dragged by eager hands that trembled just slightly. He watched, eyes locked to every inch of newly revealed skin like it was something sacred—something he’d been starving for. When your underwear followed, his breath caught audibly.

His palms smoothed down the outside of your thighs, his lips not far behind, leaving a hot trail of kisses and slow exhales as he worshipped every inch of you. You threaded your fingers into his hair, your chest rising and falling faster now, overwhelmed by the intensity of his focus. When he looked up, lips red and parted, eyes heavy-lidded with want, he whispered like it was a confession, “You’re gonna kill me.”

You let out a soft breathless laugh, dazed but still playful. “Don’t die on me, Jeon.” His mouth curled into a crooked grin at your answer, but before he dove back in, you tugged at the hem of his hoodie. “Your turn.”

He bit his lip, then sat back on his heels, straddling your thighs as he grabbed the hoodie and yanked it off in one smooth pull. His hair was a little mussed from the motion, his chest rising as the fabric left his skin. The soft lighting of the room carved gentle shadows down his torso, every line of his body familiar and still somehow dizzying to take in again.

Your hands rose instinctively, skimming over the muscle of his stomach, your fingers grazing the spot you'd touched earlier under the hoodie. His abs twitched beneath your touch, his breath hitching. “I missed you,” you murmured, almost without thinking.

His gaze softened instantly, but there was a fire just beneath the surface. “Not as much as I missed you, this,” he replied, voice low and dark, before leaning down to kiss you again—slower now, but deeper, heat building steadily between you.

You fumbled for the waistband of his pants next, tugging at it in silent invitation. Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He stood long enough to kick them off, tossing them somewhere to the floor, and joined you again in the nest of tangled sheets and fevered breathing—now skin to skin, heat to heat. You sighed as his body settled against yours, your thighs parting to welcome him fully between them. The weight of him, the warmth, the familiar press of muscle and tension—it filled something raw and hollow that had been aching in his absence.

Jungkook groaned as your bodies aligned again, harder now, no clothes left between you. His hand found your face, thumb brushing your cheek as he looked at you with something deeper than lust. “You still good?” he asked, voice tight with restraint. You reached up to tug him down into a kiss that left no room for doubt.

“Better than good,” you whispered against his lips. “Now shut up and touch me.”

He laughed, breathless—and this time when he kissed you, it wasn’t playful. His touch was everywhere—your hips, your waist, your thighs—warm hands leaving behind trails of heat that pulsed beneath your skin. And his body, all taut muscle and warm skin pressed flush against yours, was like a weight you welcomed—anchoring you, teasing you, torturing you. You tried to shift beneath him, to move your hips up into his, desperate for more friction, for more of him—but Jungkook was faster. His palm pressed against your hip, firm and commanding, pinning you to the mattress.

"Not yet," he murmured into your ear, voice so low it shivered down your spine. Then his hips rolled, deliberately slow, the thick, hot length of him dragging across your core in maddening precision. You gasped, your legs trembling with the aftershocks of every pass, every denied relief.

The friction was overwhelming. You could feel him clearly—hard and leaking, slick between your bodies—and it made your whole body clench with need. Your thighs quivered involuntarily around his hips. Your mouth parted in a breathless moan, your head tipping back against the pillow. And then… he stopped. You whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, hips lifting unconsciously toward him. Jungkook laughed softly at your frustration, his breath warm against your neck.

"You're so greedy," he teased, lips brushing your jaw as he sat back just slightly. Then his hand was between your thighs, fingers sliding through the mess he’d made of you. And when two sank into you, easily, fully, you both groaned—Jungkook from the raw sensation of feeling you clench around him, and you from the maddening fullness and pace he set without hesitation.

You arched, gasping again, hands flying up to clutch at his biceps.

"God…" he groaned, jaw tightening as his fingers slid deep, his eyes flicking down between your bodies. "You're so wet. You're…"

His words fell off into a ragged exhale as his fingers began to move, slow at first, then pressing into you with a rhythm that was devastating in its precision. He watched you—watched the way your lips parted, your brows knit, your hands clawed lightly against his arms as you tried to keep yourself grounded. But your body had other ideas—your walls fluttering around him, thighs twitching, the growing pressure in your belly unbearable.

Jungkook was transfixed. "Look at you," he murmured, brushing his nose against your temple. "Fucking beautiful."

You tried—you really did—to keep your eyes on him, to meet the heat in his gaze, but they rolled back without your permission, and a broken moan spilled from your throat. He loved it. He drank it in. Your legs trembled under the intensity, hips twitching, hands grasping at the sheets, at his shoulders, at anything to ground you.

Jungkook’s other hand slid up your thigh, thumb brushing slow, hypnotic circles just above your knee as he held your leg steady over his hip. He was watching you again, hyper-focused, studying your body’s every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered.

“Right there,” he whispered when your walls began to flutter, when the tension in your thighs started to coil too tight to hold. “So pretty like this. All of you—falling apart for me.”

His voice alone could’ve undone you. And then—right as the edge got close, just a breath away—you moved. Your leg jerked—your foot gently pushing at his chest, a quiet, trembling push. Not rough, not panicked. Just enough. Your hand covered his, holding him in place. Your breathing was uneven, your lips parted, eyes hazy as you stared up at him, halting the movement of his fingers inside you.

"W–wait," you managed, your voice hoarse and trembling. You weren’t trying to stop him completely—you just needed to breathe. To speak. To ask.

Jungkook froze, his fingers stilled immediately, but stayed inside though his thumb was still ghosting soft, slow circles along your inner thigh—his other hand anchoring your ankle gently against his chest.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly. There was no panic in his voice, no alarm. Just attentiveness. He was watching you closely—reading you like a book he already knew by heart. But still, he needed your answer.

Your eyes were glassy, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. You stared at him—He looked... devastating. Wild hair falling over his forehead, lips kiss-bitten and red, his body flushed with restraint, so close to release. His cock lay heavy against his thigh and dripping between you, flushed pink and glistening with slick, twitching against his stomach like it hurt to be untouched. You felt dizzy just looking at him.

You reached for him, fingers skimming over his hip, voice low and wrecked.

“I’m okay. I just… I need you. Not just your hands.”

Jungkook's eyes darkened instantly, chest visibly rising with a shaky breath as your words sank in. He leaned in and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His expression shifted—desire tightening into something feral, something reverent.

“…Say that again,” he said, almost breathless, leaning closer like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“I need more than your fingers,” your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes holding his. “Now.”

His groan vibrated through his chest, deep and guttural. “You want me now?” he asked, voice low and wrecked.

You nodded, a small, breathless smile curving your lips. “Need you. I want to come around you, not just your fingers.” He groaned again, the sound breaking in his throat, and pressed a long kiss to your lips—soft, but buzzing with restraint that was wearing thin by the second.

“Okay,” he whispered, forehead against yours. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

The condom was on faster than you could blink—Jungkook had moved with practiced ease, but even in those brief seconds without his touch, the absence felt unbearable. You whined quietly, sitting up just enough to press messy kisses to the line of his jaw, his throat, anywhere you could reach. Your hands wandered his chest as he fumbled slightly, your lips pulling a soft groan from him when they found that spot just beneath his ear.

“Could go faster if you didn’t keep distracting me,” he muttered, faux-annoyed, but the heat in his voice betrayed how much he liked it—how much he needed it. Then, finally, he was over you again, hands framing your hips, his gaze dragging down your body like he couldn’t believe you were real. Your leg curled around his waist instinctively, but he took your thigh in one hand and lifted it higher, draping it over his forearm to open you further, make more space for him. Your other leg slipped between his, foot pressed gently to his calf, guiding him into the perfect angle.

And then—God.

He pushed in, slow and steady, inch by careful inch. The stretch, the heat, the way he filled you—it knocked the breath out of your lungs. Your hands gripped his shoulders like a lifeline, fingernails biting into his skin as a broken sound escaped your throat.

“Shit,” Jungkook choked out, voice shaking as he stilled inside you. “You’re—fuck, you’re so tight.” You trembled in his arms, body twitching from the sheer intensity of being filled again. Of him. It had been too long—too long without him, without this—and your body remembered every second of it in the way it clung to him now.

Jungkook ducked his head, hiding the overwhelmed look in his eyes by pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You felt the tremor in his arms, the tight control in his slow breathing, the restraint pulsing through every inch of him.

And then—your voice, breathy and already cracking:

“Jun… Jungkook… please—please move. Or I… I might—”

He looked up, eyes blown wide, pupils swallowing the light. You were trembling beneath him, flushed and nearly undone, and still barely able to form words. The sight made him feral. Something in him broke—in the best, most reverent way. He hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t known if he could live up to the memory of you. But this?

You were already so close to unraveling beneath him. Around him. And it was making him lose every shred of composure he had. He leaned down, kissed you like he was starved for it, and then started to move—slowly, carefully at first, hips rolling into you with a rhythm that immediately pulled a soft, high cry from your throat.

“You feel,” he gasped, breath caught, “so—fucking—perfect.”

Your hands scrambled across his back, pulling him closer, grounding yourself as the world spun from the way he moved in you—like he was savoring you, like every thrust was an offering. His pace started to shift as you clung to him, breaths shared, skin sliding against skin. It was frantic and tender, desperate and unhurried all at once, like both of you were trying to make up for every second lost between the last time and now.

And Jungkook couldn’t stop kissing you—your mouth, your cheek, the corner of your jaw. Like he needed to taste you everywhere, remind himself this was real. “Gonna come soon,” he breathed, voice raw. “If you keep looking at me like that—I can’t—fuck, I can’t hold back.”

You smiled through the haze, pulling him closer until your foreheads touched, until every movement of his body was yours and every breath you took belonged to him.

And you whispered, “Then don’t.”

Your smart little comment had barely left your lips before Jungkook dipped his head and caught your breast in his mouth, lips warm and soft as he sucked gently, tongue circling your nipple before he gave it a teasing nip that made you jolt under him with a strangled gasp that started your downfall.

“Smart mouth,” he murmured against your skin, grinning as your body twitched from the overstimulation and want. “You just love driving me crazy, don’t you?”

But then he pushed forward again, his hips grinding down just so—right over that spot where you were already trembling. The thick, perfect slide of him hit home deep, the ridge of his pelvis pressing tight against your clit in a way that knocked the air clean out of your lungs. You shattered, voice breaking apart into a gasped cry, hands clawing at his back as your entire body locked up and then trembled violently around him.

“Jungkook—!” Your walls fluttered and clenched hard, dragging him down with you. He barely managed a few more erratic thrusts before he groaned—low and raw—burying his face in your neck as his hips jerked. The heat of his release filled the condom as his entire body tightened over yours.

“Fuck,” he gasped, voice shivering as he came, still rolling his hips just enough to ride out the end. “You—God, unreal.” You were both breathing like you’d run miles, chests rising and falling in tandem. His forehead dropped against yours for a long moment, sweat clinging to his hairline, breath hot against your cheek.

He stayed inside you a little longer, reluctant to leave the warmth and the aftershocks still fluttering through your body. His lips pressed lazy, tender kisses to your neck and collarbone, his weight comforting above you without being too much. Eventually, he slowly eased you down with him, shifting so you were both lying on your sides, your leg still draped over his hip.

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning now that the high was fading—embarrassment blooming quietly in your chest. “I… came so fast…” you muttered, barely audible. “I—shit, sorry.”

Jungkook blinked, and then his smile split wide, bright and boyish and disbelieving. “Are you kidding?” he said, his voice rough but teasing. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I thought I’d lose it just from hearing you.” And just like that, he twitched inside you.

You let out a soft sound—half gasp, half groan—that made him chuckle.

“Sorry,” he whispered, not sounding sorry at all as he placed a kiss just below your ear. He finally pulled out of you with care, murmuring something soft when you twitched at the loss, and disposed of the condom before turning back toward you.

But before he could lie down again, you were already pushing yourself up gingerly on shaky limbs, breath still shallow. He blinked at you, brows lifted, concern and curiosity mingling on his face. “You okay?” You nodded, brushing your hair out of your face. “Bathroom,” you said simply, voice still wrecked around the edges. His lips quirked into a crooked smile, eyes fond. “Ah.” You wobbled slightly as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed—but Jungkook was already sitting up behind you, hands at your waist, helping you up with exaggerated care.

“Anything for my girlfriend,” he said playfully, kissing your shoulder as he steadied you.

You groaned. “God, you’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope.” He grinned and gave you a soft smack on the hip. You pushed yourself upright, but before you could take more than a few steps, Jungkook’s hand wrapped gently around your wrist. “I’ll come with you,” he said, standing up beside you in one smooth, quiet motion.

You gave him a tired glance, amused. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally walking like a newborn deer. I feel obligated.”

You huffed a laugh, letting him tug you toward the bathroom with fingers laced through yours. He kept close as you both stepped into the low-lit space, the faint hum of the fan filling the silence. You reached for the faucet and splashed water on your face as he stood behind you, watching with a small, soft smile, the glow from the mirror lighting his features gently.

Your reflection caught his—a mess of tousled dark hair, flushed cheeks, a lip still slightly swollen from your kisses. His hoodie and pants were gone, his inked arm on display, his chest bare and scattered with faint red marks you’d left in the heat of it.

You handed him the washcloth you’d wet, and he accepted it easily, dragging it across his chest and neck with a low, content sigh before tossing it into the hamper. The two of you brushed your teeth side by side in companionable silence, hips bumping every now and then, like even now, your bodies couldn’t help but seek each other out.

When you finished and leaned against the sink, Jungkook reached over and gently tucked your hair behind your ear, studying your face like it was something precious. “What?” you asked, voice quieter now. He shook his head with a lazy smile. “Nothing. You’re just really damn pretty.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming again. “I look wrecked.”

“Exactly.” His voice dropped, teasing and rough. “My kind of wrecked.”

You groaned, pushing lightly at his chest, but he only grinned wider, catching your wrist and kissing your palm before guiding you back toward the bedroom. When you reached the bed, you both climbed under the covers at the same time, your bodies drawn together instantly like magnets. Jungkook settled on his back and opened an arm without question. You tucked yourself against his side, one leg thrown over his hip, your head finding the crook of his shoulder.

His skin was warm—soothing—and he smelled faintly of shampoo and the clean linens. His hand smoothed slow circles into your lower back while the other combed lightly through your hair, grounding you with every touch. You stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet glow of the night, breaths syncing, heartbeats slowing.

“Hey,” he murmured eventually, voice soft. You hummed, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“I really missed this,” he said, fingers still tracing invisible lines on your skin. “Missed you.”

You looked up at him, blinking slowly. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “More than I realized. It’s stupid how good it feels... just to hold you.”

That made your chest ache in the best way. You kissed his collarbone, lazy and lingering, and felt him hum in response. “I missed you too,” you whispered. “Even when I pretended I didn’t.” Jungkook’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, keeping you close.

“I’m not pretending anymore,” he said quietly.

You nestled tighter against him, and he pulled the blanket up higher, another kiss pressed to your forehead. The room had settled into silence, save for the sound of your breaths mixing, slow and even beneath the covers.

You were nestled into Jungkook’s side like you’d never left, like there had never been a gap of time or space between the two of you. His fingers continued their lazy path over your back, warm and familiar, like he was memorizing you all over again.

“You know…” he murmured after a moment, voice low and sleepy, vibrating softly through his chest beneath your cheek. “I’m flying you out more often now. Whether you want me to or not.” You let out a tired, amused breath, not even lifting your head. “So you’re just going to kidnap me now?”

“Exactly,” he said with a small grin. “I’ll drag you into my suitcase if I have to. Make this long-distance crap work.” You chuckled, eyes still closed, your legs tangling deeper into his under the sheets. “Fine. But only if you also make time to visit me. Not just airlifting me to you every time.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Deal. But I want to be where you are anyway, so that’s not exactly a compromise.”

“Mmh…” you shifted closer, like that was even possible, pressing your nose against the base of his throat, letting the warmth of his body soothe every frayed nerve. “We could do workcations, too. Pick a city, hole up somewhere nice. You shoot your stuff, I take meetings, and we eat too many pastries in between.”

Jungkook laughed softly at that, the sound a deep, muffled rumble in his chest. “You’re dangerous with ideas like that.”

“I’m serious,” you mumbled. “I’m not letting you disappear into some blackhole schedule again. If I have to sit in your studio in pajama pants just to see you, I will.”

“You can sit on my lap in pajama pants,” he offered, smirking against your hair.

You groaned into his neck, voice muffled. “God, you’re impossible.”

But your arms didn’t loosen around him. You were already curled into his side like you’d come here to stay, like this was your rightful place. And Jungkook—he didn’t move an inch to suggest otherwise. If anything, his grip around you only tightened, pulling the blanket tighter around both of you like he was locking the moment into place.

“I like this,” he whispered after a beat, voice quieter now. “You here. Like this.”

Your fingers brushed across his ribs, drawing idle lines. “You planning to trap me like this for a while?”

He hummed, not even pretending to sound guilty. “That’s exactly what I’m planning. But tomorrow we need to visit the Han River first.”

And the way he cradled you after, his chin resting on top of your head, his breath warm in your hair, told you he meant every word.

Masterlist

Tags: A/N I was stupid and not specific with the Tags at my Tag post for this. So as to not Tag anyone that doesnt want to be Tagged I changed the post and tagged only the people that interacted after the change. I am sorry! If you wanted to be tagged :/ If you want to be tagged for Missing you, just write it in the comments or dm me. Sorry!

@dachshunddame @hecatesdescendant @chaeisrichnow @notyourfriendooo

A/N: Hi! Just wanted to mention that I use ChatGPT and DeepL to clean up grammar and spelling in my writing. English is my second language, and this tools help me share stories the way I imagine them, without spending hours double-checking every word. Writing is just a hobby I enjoy after a full workweek—I’m not trying to make money from it. If you’re curious or have thoughts on it, I’d love to have a friendly discussion!

[shadowkoo]

Kingdom Cum

→ Summary: On the eve of your wedding, you're ready to let loose and make it a night to remember. In the heart of a vibrant city, surrounded by your closest friends, you're determined to savor one last taste of freedom. But when a series of unexpected encounters transforms the celebration into something far wilder than you ever imagined, you find yourself torn between temptation and the life you're about to commit to. At Kingdom Cum, the night is bound to be steamy; leaving your desires to run high, while dangerously blurring the lines between loyalty and lust.

↠ mingi x f.reader x hongjoong | 3.3k words | 18+ ↠ genre: y2k cyberpunk aesthetic nightclub, exotic dancer/stripper au, the filthiest smut i’ve written in a looooong ass time

→ Warnings: infidelity (Y/N is at her bachelorette party) double penetration and double teaming (you’re welcome in advance), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), partial voyeurism and exhibitionism, breast play, light bondage (bride sash used as a restraint), spanking, begging, semi public sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, doggy deluxe, edging, deep dicking, belly bulge, clit pinching, ass enthusiast!hongjoong, teasing expert!mingi, well behaved!reader, multiple orgasms, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, cock choking, throat fucking, size kink, heavy praising, slight degradation, creampies, cum play, cum stuffing, overstimulation, the slightest power play, mingi’s got a magic cross dick piercing (bc why not hehe i’m feeling evil) there’s probably more I’m missing

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: a big thank you to beezy @hobeemin for beta editing, to cherry @shuadotcom, summer @beomcoups, booki @kwanisms, and maren @wooahaeproductions for hyping me up and letting me scream about this!

And also to sevn @aaagustd & nabi @jenoslutie for being my sprinting partners for several days i would have never finished this without the motivation fr, ILYSM <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

It’s almost midnight, and the real fun is about to begin. It’s your bachelorette weekend, and you’re surrounded by your closest friends, ready to celebrate in style.

The city lights glimmer outside, but all laughter and music are inside. Drinks flow as you and your crew revel in the weekend's freedom. You’ve been looking forward to this escape for months and with your girls by your side, the energy is electric.

The night is young, the city is yours, and the party is only getting started.

“Just wait, I’ve heard they strip everything,” Yeri says, emphasizing her last word.

“They better be hot,” Sunny jokes, lifting her cup to sip her drink. You’re all sitting at a table in Kingdom Cum, a popular cyberpunk nightclub that’s known for having the two best after-dark dancers in the city - SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Hi ladies,” a male says from behind your group, “We can’t show you everything, but you won’t be disappointed.”

Turning to look, you see that it’s a gorgeous man with a blue streak running through his tousled hair. He runs his ring-covered fingers through his colorful strands, furthering the messy-styled look.

“I heard earlier that a bachelorette party would be joining us tonight. After spotting you sexy ladies, I knew you had to be the group.”

His eyes land on you, “You must be the bride.”

It’s obvious, you can’t pretend otherwise - even if you want to. You’re wearing a slutty white bra top (per Yeri’s demand), and white cheetah print pants with a ridiculous silk sash that says ‘Future Mrs.’ across the middle.

“Mingi, better known as SlickNasty, at your service,” He says, extending a hand toward you. His fingers brush yours before gently lifting your hand to his lips. Mingi’s eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as he places a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

It feels way more intimate than it’s probably meant to be.

As he finishes, he lowers your hand slowly, releasing it with a sly smile that hints at something more.

Or maybe that’s exactly how he meant it…

“And here comes the other half of tonight’s show,” Mingi says directing your attention to the next stunning man walking over to your table.

“Hello ladies, I’m Hongjoong, your SpankMaster. My pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice deep yet smooth, brimming with confidence that radiates from his effortless demeanor. “We’re here to steal the lovely bride-to-be for the first performance.” He winks at Sunny, whose cheeks instantly heat up.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely! Take her away!” She blurts, practically pushing you out of your seat and into their arms. You rise to your feet and follow them as they lead you backstage.

“Alright, hot stuff,” Hongjoong says once you’re hidden behind the curtain. “Excuse my manners, I forgot to ask for your name.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Here,” Mingi directs you to sit down on the chair conveniently placed at the center of the stage. He stands to your left, hovering over you as Hongjoong leans in on the right side.

“Just gotta confirm before the show starts, do we have your consent to touch you on stage?” Mingi questions an inch away from your heated face.

“Yes,” You nod, giving them permission.

“That’s a good girl,” Mingi whispers in your ear. Before you have time to react, the curtains sweep open, and bright lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. Over the rush of excitement, you can hear your friends cheering wildly from their table.

The two explode onto the stage with electrifying energy, their movements sharp, fluid, and in perfect sync with the pounding beats. A few backup dancers join behind where you are seated. They’re all dressed in neon, complementing the trendy punk looks of Mingi and Hongjoong.

The stage vibrates with power as they hit every beat with precision, seamlessly blending their different styles together.

“How’s everyone doing tonight,” SpankMaster (Hongjoong) grins, swaying his hips to the beat as he struts down the catwalk of the stage. He poses at the end, teasing all the women in the room as he slowly lifts a corner of his tank top.

He drops the fabric and wags a finger, “Not quite yet, I wanna hear you scream for it.” The crowd erupts, giving him exactly what he demands and he chuckles.

“That’s good, very good actually,” he praises. “SlickNasty, you think you can help me out?”

Mingi saunters over until he’s behind Hongjoong, resting his hands on his friend’s shoulders before running them down his chest. He bunches the thin fabric between his fingers and tears Hongjoong’s shirt right down the middle, leaving the shreds to fall onto the stage.

They turn around, gyrating their hips to the beat and in sync with one another, before walking back over to where you are seated.

“Ready to have some fun?” Mingi’s breath tickles your neck as he straddles your lap. He hovers above you before crossing his arms and slowly lifting his shirt off next, tossing it somewhere offstage where two women fight over it.

As Mingi dances, his gaze remains fixed on yours, an unspoken connection pulsing between you both with every move. The music echoes around you, but it's the intensity of his eyes that holds your attention, drawing you in deeper.

Even as his body twists and sways in rhythm, he never breaks eye contact, as if the entire room has faded away and it's just the two of you in this moment. Each glance feels deliberate, filled with a mix of arrogance and something darker that keeps you locked in, unable to look away.

The rest of the song is a blur of skin and muscles. Every roll of Mingi’s hips has your insides burning more and more. The air is thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm. And boy, do you want it him to rain down on you.

His movements overflow with unspoken words, and tension hums beneath the surface. It’s electric and suffocating, as if any moment could tip the scales and send everything spiraling out of control. That thought pools heat between your thighs.

Hongjoong saunters back over toward you, pausing to tap Mingi on the shoulder. It’s their signal to one another, and they switch positions effortlessly.

Mingi returns to the front of the stage, dancing energetically while engaging with the crowd, drawing them in with his cocky presence.

Hongjoong has a sideways grin on his face as he pulls you to your feet. “Show me your moves, hot stuff," he teases with a grin, twirling you around with effortless grace. As the spin ends, he slides down your side, fluidly and playfully, syncing perfectly with the rhythm of the music.

Swaying your hips against his, you raise an arm to your hair to release the claw clip currently holding it up. Tossing your head back, you let the curls bounce around you as move to the beat. Your friends’ screams fade into the background as you lose yourself in the moment.

Mingi watches you, his eyes all dark and broody. He’s entranced, stuck under your spell as you grind against his best friend. His eyes lock with Hongjoong’s and they share a silent exchange, and with a quick nod, agree on the matter.

Your moment is suddenly interrupted when the crowd erupts into chaos, the lights dimming, and then it dawns on you. Their set is over. This is over. Damn.

The backup performers step out from the shadows and down into the crowd, pulling fellow show-goers to the open dance floor. The DJ picks up the tempo as more and more people leave their seats to join in on the fun, including your friends who are dancing with a few hotties themselves.

The curtains shut dramatically again, closing you off from the outside world.

“Follow me,” A stagehand says, grabbing your attention and directing you backstage with SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Um…What now?” you ask nervously as the two look at each other knowingly. “I should-uh. I should head back, right?” You awkwardly point to the front of the venue.

“Well, now you have a decision to make,” Hongjoong smirks. “You can go back to your friends…”

“Or you can stay here with us,” Mingi finishes, cracking open the door to his dressing room, inviting you to join them.

Your gaze travels back and forth between the two. Half of you knows better than to pretend like you don’t know what will happen if you go in there. But the other half of you is dying to find out if you’re right. It is your last night of freedom, how can you turn down this chance?

“Do you trust us?” Mingi asks, pulling you from your battling thoughts.

“Yes.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation as they shut the door behind you, and with a decisive click, you’re locked inside.

Mingi is the first to touch you, his large hands wrapping around your bare waist, pulling your backside up against his front. Those same hands slide up to your breasts, kneading them lightly at first. You moan, reaching backward to clutch his strong thighs, your nails digging into them as his grip tightens.

“You’re gonna be a fun one, aren’t you,” Mingi chuckles in your ear, nipping at it gently before pulling away from you. He joins Hongjoong who’s sitting on the black couch, waiting.

“Last chance to leave, sweetheart,” Hongjoong warns, tapping the space between him and Mingi. Your legs move before your mind and heart even catch up to what you truly want, what you crave.

You should be running back to your friends, and yet, you sit.

“Good girl,” Hongjoong murmurs before crashing his lips against yours. His tongue tickles the corner of your lips, demanding to be let inside.

Simultaneously, Mingi works to undo your pants. You lift your hips, giving him space to drag the fabric down your hips, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

“Damn, baby,” he groans, looking at your damp panties. “Look how worked up you already are. Spread your legs for us. Let us see how wet you are.”

You comply and are kindly rewarded when Mingi’s fingers pull your panties to the side. Sucking in a sharp breath, your head falls back as he spreads your dewy folds open with his digits.

“Is the fact that I’m fingering you while my best friend watches getting you all worked up?” he questions devilishly, already knowing the answer. Your face twists in pleasure with every curl of his fingers.

Mingi’s other hand wraps around your hair, pulling your mouth to his. He sucks in your bottom lip, surprising you when he bites down.

Hongjoong sucks on your exposed neck, then hovers above the spot he created, pleased with the purplish spot already growing. One of his hands dips down between your legs, meeting Mingi’s as he adds another two fingers inside you.

“This pretty little cunt’s gotta get stretched out if she’s gonna take both of us. Do you want that?” Hongjoong asks, his voice all husky.

“Yes,” you breathe shakily, “I want that so bad.”

Their fingers quicken, pumping in perfect sync, each thrust inward hits that sweet spot that has you dancing dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, please!” you cry out, begging for release.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Let us hear those pretty moans,” Hongjoong praises.

Your body inevitably tenses as shockwaves rush through your body, pleasure pulsating head to toe as your insides contract around their slowing fingers.

Mingi tilts his head and grins. “Are you ready?” he asks as you’re catching your breath.

Before the words ‘for what’ even have time to register in your brain, he moves from his spot next to you and kneels between your legs. Swiftly placing his hands behind your knees, he yanks you forward. “I know what to do to make this kitty purrrrrr,” he rolls his tongue, “Are you ready to find out why they call me SlickNasty?”

“God, yes,” you plead as he rips your useless panties off, throwing the remaining fabric elsewhere.

Mingi delves into your soaked center, and he moans deliciously, loving your sweet taste. The one thing he loves most in the world is pleasing a woman with his tongue; the satisfaction he gets is unmatchable.

His tongue licks up your slit, circling the sensitive nub several times, making your legs shake and his length stiffen.

“Such a good slut. Look at you, trying to fuck my tongue,” Mingi rasps as you push back against his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess, frozen in pleasure, and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to untie the back of your top. He tosses it aside with the rest of the clothing that is quickly disappearing.

He sucks one of your velvety peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth before sucking to alleviate the pain.

Hongjoong massages your other breast with his hand while his mouth continues its beautiful assault on your hardening point. He releases his lips only briefly, blowing air over your wet mound, before swapping to the other side.

“Fuck, I need more,” you beg, arching your back off the couch.

As if they know that you’re on the precipice of coming again, the two men work harder; Mingi’s tongue lapping your folds as his nose rubs against your sensitive clit, Hongjoong’s teeth tugging on your nipple.

A moan tears through you, your body convulsing as your second orgasm courses through your veins.

Without giving you time to come down from your high, Mingi flips your body over in one quick movement, leaving you on your hands and knees. He stands at the end of the couch, shoving his leather pants down and freeing his cock.

Your mouth waters as you take in the size of him. Something reflects in the light, and your eyes quickly land on his tip. It’s pierced, with two bars crossing over each other, creating the perfect ‘X’ marks the spot.

“Open wide for me, pretty girl,” he says, quickly shoving his length into your stunned mouth. He’s hot and heavy, just his tip alone fills your mouth. You stretch your jaw, opening as wide as you can to take in more of him.

Something feral inside Mingi switches when he notices his cock creating a bulge in your throat. He growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair to hold your head steady while he watches it move as he does.

Hongjoong undresses behind you, quickly finding his place at your backside. He takes a moment to enjoy your ass from this angle, gazing unapologetically before raising a hand to slap the perfectly untouched skin.

Your flesh jiggles from the impact, and he rubs the area to relieve the stinging. He admires the redness growing across your cheeks as he spanks you again and again.

You moan, vibrating around Mingi’s cock.

“I think she likes that, what do you think Hongjoong?” Mingi says through gritted teeth.

“I know something she’ll like even more,” Hongjoong answers before slamming his thick length into your heat.

“Oh yeah,” he practically purrs, loving the way you take all of him. With every hard thrust from Hongjoong, you choke around Mingi’s cock.

Mingi wipes the drool dripping down from your chin before gripping your jaw, “You’re just a toy that’s meant to be stuffed from both ends, isn’t that right?”

You nod as much as you are able with his length still shoved deep down your throat.

“Such a good toy,” Hongjoong compliments, awarding your ass with another hard smack. Your nails dig into the arm of the couch to keep from falling over.

Holy fuck.

Mingi’s cock twitches, but he holds back. He’s got other plans on where his cum will be spilling tonight. He makes eye contact with Hongjoong, and they share the same thought as he slips out of your wrecked mouth.

You mewl at the loss of contact when Hongjoong also pulls out. But before you have time to ask questions, Mingi lifts you and carries you over to his vanity, gently setting you down against the cool marble countertop.

Hongjoong’s eyes land on something white and silky on the floor; he smirks at his finding.

Perfect, he thinks, grabbing it from the ground and twisting it in his hands as he saunters over toward you. Your mind registers that it’s your ‘bride’ sash.

“Hold your wrists out.” You do as you're told, and he ties it around them. He lifts your joined hands over your head, pinning them in place. “Will you keep them there?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, keeping them lifted when he removes his hands.

Your eyes wash across both men’s bodies, their cocks resting up against their abs. It’s the best sight in the world.

They look to you for approval as they line their cocks lined up with your center. You nod repeatedly, silently begging them to fuck you already. 

Slowly, they both push into your needy cunt. You feel the cool metal of Mingi’s piercing glide against your inner walls as they sink into you.

Mingi tosses his head back once he’s pushed to the hilt; the position shows off his tense neck veins.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong hisses as his body goes rigid. Taking in a couple of deep breaths, he regains his composure and turns his head toward Mingi, giving a slight nod to say it’s go-time.

You scream out when they pull back, slamming back into you before you even have time to register. Pain mixed with pleasure at the stretch you out.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Hongjoong says, his hand gripping your waist.

“So fucking tight,” Mingi groans.

Your eyes land on your lower stomach, where you can see their cocks practically rearranging your insides. Moaning as you watch the bulge move in and up and down motion, your arms momentarily fall while distracted.

Hongjoong growls, grabbing your bound wrists and slamming them back up against the wall. His thrusts get slightly sporadic, getting closer to his own release.

Your body glistens with sweat, and Mingi is entranced by your perfect tits with perky nipples bouncing in circles as they hammer into you.

You hook your legs around both men, crying out when Hongjoong pinches your clit.

“Come. Now.”

Mingi’s demand has your mouth watering from the sheer dominance laced in his voice. Your eyes flutter as your face twists, accepting your fate as you succumb to orgasm number three.

Hongjoong grunts as your walls tighten around both cocks. His eyes roll back as he releases his creamy load into you. He shudders, pulling out of you and watching some of his cum drips onto the floor below.

Mingi growls after Hongjoong steps back, lifting one of your legs as he pounds into you one, two, three more times until his cum shoots through your soft folds.

You’re perfectly content and ruined, unable to move.

“Didn’t I say that would be fun?” Mingi says after noticing your blissfully fucked face. He leaves a quick kiss on your cheek before stepping back to clean himself.

When he returns, you’re about to reach for one of the tissues he has in hand when you’re quickly stopped by Hongjoong.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shakes a finger, before putting two between your legs, stuffing their creamy mixture back up into your heat.

“That’s for later, when you’re missing us,” he winks, handing you your pants to slip on while Mingi reaches for your top.

“So, you better get back to your friends,” Mingi says, stepping back after he helps you into your shirt. “We don’t want them to think you got lost for good.”

Hongjoong taps you on the ass lightly as you’re led to the door, “Goodbye, hot stuff.” He smirks. “Good luck with the wedding.”

…Oh yeah…

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[nylqnder]

PUSHING IT DOWN AND PRAYING QUINN HUGHES

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: ever since quinn's confession, the magnetic pull of your ex has lingered in both dreams and waking moments, forcing you to confront emotions you believed were long buried.

warnings: 18+, (not insanely descriptive but) p in v, oral (fem!receiving), cheating (in your head and in person!), kind of toxic behaviour from both you and quinn

wc: 3.54k

notes: based on 'pushing it down and praying' by lizzy mcalpine. technically a part two to my fic last christmas but not necessary to read before this one! this is my first time writing something that actually veers into smut and i kind of liked it 🤫🤭

Quinn was haunting you.

Ever since the holiday party, when he told you he missed you, his presence has plagued your thoughts. You had hoped at first that it was just the encounter that had your mind tangled up in him again. A fluke. An inconvenient memory dredged up by too much wine and the way the Christmas lights had cast a golden glow around his face, making him look as heartbreakingly beautiful as he always had.

But it wasn’t just a one-off. He lingered everywhere. Seeped into everything.

He was in photos your friends reposted on Instagram, him celebrating as he racked up points in what was set to be another Norris-deserving season. You walk down the street and he’s staring down at you from a billboard. Someone at work mentions his name in passing, and you have to grip your coffee cup just a little bit tighter.

Even in the most intimate, protected moments, he’s there.

You’re with Caleb, naked and tangled up in his sheets. His hands and lips take turns tracing patterns down your skin. You close your eyes, tilting your head back against the pillow, and then suddenly, Quinn is there, hovering in the space between your thoughts, intruding like he always does. It’s his hands gripping down on your thighs, it’s his breath that’s hot over your core. It’s his black locks that your fingers thread through, his tongue that pulls you close to completion.

It’s his name that nearly slips past your lips instead of Calebs.

The second you realize, your entire body goes cold with horror. You feel sick. You feel like you’ve betrayed something, even if you’re not sure what.

It should stop there. It should be enough to shake you, to jar you back into the reality of what you have — what you chose. But it doesn’t.

Quinn lingers.

Like a ghost with a vengeance, he refuses to be exorcized from your mind. You try everything to rid yourself of him, desperate to cleanse him from your system like a sickness. You delete his number from your phone. You block him on Instagram. You unfollow the team’s page, stop watching their games, turn off the TV when his name is mentioned. But it doesn’t matter. You still see him in flashes, in the shadows of your everyday life, in the places you least expect him.

You tell yourself that Caleb is enough. He’s stable, he’s kind. He looks at you like you’re his whole world. And yet, no matter how much you try to convince yourself, you can feel the guilt creeping in, poisoning what should be simple, should be easy. Because Caleb doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve a half-present version of you, someone who is always a breath away from slipping into a memory, a ghost of a love that still has its claws in you.

And you do love Caleb. That’s what makes this worse. You love him, but Quinn is in your blood, tangled in your bones. No matter how many times you try to wring him out of you, he stays.

You don’t mean to let him in, but Quinn is relentless. Even when you spend the rest of the night curled in on yourself, forcing your mind onto anything but him, he lingers in the edges of your consciousness, slipping in through the cracks you swore you sealed long ago.

You fall asleep telling yourself you won’t think about him. But the harder you try to push him away, the faster he finds you.

And then suddenly, he’s everywhere.

His hands, broad and warm, map your body, claiming you like he never lost the right. His mouth, hot and sure, drags across your skin, lips brushing over your jaw, your throat, lower. His voice, low and wrecked with want, says your name like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

It feels real. Devastatingly real.

You arch into him, gasping when his fingers dig into your hips, when his body presses you deeper into the mattress. His hips drill into you, overwhelming pleasure wreaking your body. You’re close, so close, his hands adding to the pleasure until finally—

You wake up in a sweat, your heart hammering against your ribs, sheets tangled around your legs like they’re trying to hold you down, keep you from moving, from running from the truth that’s finally caught up to you.

The dream was so vivid it may as well have been real. It wasn’t just a memory, wasn’t just another unwelcome reminder of Quinn’s existence — it was something else entirely. Something new. Something that felt so raw, so visceral, so devastatingly consuming that you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the weight of his name thick on your tongue. You swear you can still taste him, still hear the low rasp of his voice murmuring against your ear, still feel the way he held you, worshiped you, and took you apart like he had every right to.

And you wanted it. God, you wanted it so badly.

The realization sits heavy in your stomach like a lead weight, nausea curling at the edges of your consciousness. It’s not just some intrusive thought, not just a fleeting moment of weakness. It’s something deeper, something more dangerous. It’s the kind of desire that threatens to upend everything you’ve built, the kind that makes you question every choice you’ve made since Quinn walked out of your life.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to block it all out, trying to push the images away. Caleb is sleeping beside you, blissfully unaware, his breathing slow and steady. He’s good. He’s steady. He’s the kind of love that doesn’t set you on fire, but keeps you warm.

But warmth has never been enough to stop you from craving the burn.

You sit up, legs swinging over the side of the bed, toes curling against the cold wood floor as you try to shake the dream from your mind, but it clings to you like a second skin. You know then, in that moment, that something has to give. Something has to change.

You can’t keep pretending that Quinn isn’t still under your skin, still a part of you. You can’t keep pretending that this is sustainable, that you can shove him into the darkest corners of your mind and expect him to stay there. Because he won’t. He never has.

You take a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the sheets. There are only two choices now. You either find a way to finally, truly exorcize him from your life for good — or you give in to the pull that’s been dragging you back to him since the moment he told you he missed you.

The clock on your side table reads a quarter past midnight. You know Quinn’s habits. You know how they used to contradict yours, the way his mind would keep him up until the early hours of the morning. He’s probably up. He’s probably thinking hockey. Thinking about how he can change, how he can improve, how he can lead better. You wonder if maybe his mind slips from hockey. Maybe it slips to you?

So you do something reckless. Something you swore you wouldn’t do.

You get up. You grab your vest and your keys, not bothering to change into proper clothing. You ignore the tightness in your chest as you slip out of Caleb’s apartment, moving through the cold, empty parking garage like a ghost yourself, drawn by something you don’t understand but can’t resist. Your internal autopilot takes you down a familiar route, your heart pounding with every turn you take.

You don’t know what you’re expecting as you approach Quinn’s building, but you hope it’s still the same one. Hope that, for all the ways things have changed, this one thing remains the same. Because if it doesn’t — if you get to his door and find a stranger behind it, or worse, nothing at all — you don’t know what you’ll do.

But when you step inside the familiar lobby, heart hammering against your ribs, your breath leaves you in a rush. It’s the same. The same floors, the same dim lighting, the same quiet hum of the elevator as you press the button for his floor. Your stomach twists as you watch the numbers climb, each one bringing you closer to something you might not be able to take back.

By the time you’re standing in front of his door, your entire body is buzzing with nervous energy, hands clenched into fists at your sides. The reality of what you’re doing crashes into you all at once, but it’s too late to turn back now. You’re here. You’ve already made your choice.

You raise your hand, knocking twice, sharp and decisive.

Seconds pass. Then more. And just as doubt begins to creep in — just as you think maybe, mercifully, he’s not home — the lock clicks. The door swings open, and there he is.

Quinn.

His hair is tousled, dark strands falling over his forehead like he’s been running his hands through it all night. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, and for a brief, excruciating second, you imagine how he must look underneath — imagine the way his body must still move, still feel.

His eyes widen when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before something else settles there — something heavier, unreadable. His brow furrows as his gaze sweeps over you, taking in the obvious signs that you’d been asleep before rushing over. The floral sleep shorts, the hoodie far too thin for the cold, the puffer vest thrown on in haste. The messy, low braid, the fuzzy slippers, the oversized glasses that Quinn always thought were too big for your face — but you looked so damn cute in them.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn's voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours, maybe even like he’s just woken up, though you know that not to be the case. Or maybe it’s just the weight of the moment settling between you, thick and heavy like fog rolling in over the water.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Now that you’re standing here, now that you’ve actually done this, the words don’t come as easily as they did in your head. But you didn’t come all this way to back down now.

“I—” you falter, inhaling sharply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I needed to talk to you.”

Quinn studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he steps back, pulling the door open wider. The second you cross the threshold, it’s like stepping back in time. His apartment smells the same — clean, but lived in, a mix of laundry detergent and something inherently him. The familiarity sends a pang straight through your chest. You shouldn’t still remember these details. You shouldn’t still care. But you do.

He closes the door behind you, and when you turn to face him, the air between you feels thick, charged. His arms are crossed, his stance guarded, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.

“So?” His voice is quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounds like resignation. “What did you need to talk about?”

Your fingers tighten into fists at your sides. You remind yourself why you’re here. Why you needed to see him.

“You shouldn’t have said it.” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

Quinn’s jaw tenses. “Said what?”

“You know what.”

Silence stretches between you, taut and unyielding. He knows. You know he knows. And yet, he just watches you, waiting.

You exhale harshly, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. “At the party. You shouldn’t have told me you missed me.”

Quinn’s throat bobs as he swallows. His arms drop to his sides. “Why not?”

“Because it messed with my head,” you admit, voice cracking slightly. “Because I was fine. I was moving on.”

He scoffs softly, shaking his head. “Were you?”

“I was,” you insist, even though your voice lacks the conviction you wish it had. The words sound brittle, as fragile as glass. “I was happy, Quinn. I was growing. Moving forward. And then you—” You break off, shaking your head as the emotions rise, thick and suffocating in your throat. “Then you showed up and dragged me right back to where I was before. Heartbroken over you.”

Quinn flinches, but it’s fleeting. He schools his features into something colder, unreadable. You almost wish he wouldn’t. You almost want him to hurt the way you’ve been hurting.

“I’m with Caleb now,” you say, the name a tether, an anchor you cling to. “And he’s—he’s incredible, Quinn. Everything a girl would ever hope for in a boyfriend.”

Quinn’s eyes darken, but you barrel on, desperate to get the words out before they choke you. “He’s thoughtful. He listens. He shows up. God, he’s everything you weren’t.”

The silence that follows is deafening. For a second, you wonder if you’ve gone too far, if the bitterness in your voice has crossed a line you’ll regret. But then Quinn speaks, and his words slice through you like a blade.

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that he’s enough for you.”

The audacity of it — the sheer nerve — snaps something inside you.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. Quinn doesn’t back down. His gaze is steady, unflinching, and it infuriates you.

“I mean, God! You’re haunting me, Quinn! Like some goddamn ghost with a vengeance.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. “Ever since that stupid party, you’ve been everywhere. In my head, in my dreams, even when I’m with Caleb—”

You stop yourself, but it’s too late. The truth hangs in the air between you, heavy and damning.

Quinn’s brow knits together, eyes sharp with something knowing. “Even when you’re with Caleb?” he repeats, voice low.

You hate him for that. Hate the way he can see right through you, the way he always has.

“Forget it… You know you’re so goddamn infuriating the way you think you can just walk back into my life and tell me something like that!” you say, your volume raising with every word. You knew it was late and Quinns’ neighbors would probably have some choice words for him in the morning, but right now you couldn’t care less about his reputation as a tenant.

Something flickers in his gaze, something guilty, something hesitant. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, don’t,” you snap. “Don’t fucking say you didn’t mean to. You knew what you were doing.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” You shake your head, laughter bubbling up again, but it’s hollow, bitter. “That’s all you have to say? No genuine apology, no explanation, nothing. Just… sorry. Sorry for what, Quinn? Sorry for being a coward, sorry for being a fucking asshole?”

Your voice cracks as you continue, the weight of your emotions finally breaking through the thin veneer of anger you've clung to. Tears blur your vision, hot and relentless, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

“Sorry for letting me fall in love with you and then walking away like it was nothing? Sorry for showing up at that party and throwing my entire goddamn life into chaos? Sorry for being in my head all the time, in my bed, in my fucking heart?” Your voice falters, raw and ragged. “Or are you just sorry because I showed up here and ruined your night?”

Quinn takes a step closer, his face tight with emotion, but you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“You ruined me, Quinn,” you sob, the admission wrenching free from your chest. “And I hate you for it. I hate that I can’t forget you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, you’re still here.” You press a shaking hand to your chest, where your heart feels like it’s splintering apart. “I should be over this. I should be happy. I am happy. Caleb is good. He loves me—”

Your voice breaks completely, and the tears come in earnest now, unstoppable and all-consuming. Your shoulders shake with the force of it, all the pain and confusion and longing spilling out in a way you’ve never let yourself feel before.

Through your sobs, you manage to choke out one final, devastating truth: “But I still love you, and I hate myself for it.”

The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the room, and for a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breathing and the thick, oppressive silence that follows.

And then Quinn moves.

He crosses the distance between you in two long strides, his hands coming up to gently but firmly grip your shoulders. You try to pull away, ashamed of your outburst, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace that’s as familiar as it is shattering.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I’m so sorry.”

His words are a balm and a blade all at once. You press your face against his hoodie, the fabric dampening your tears, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. His hand rubs slow, soothing circles on your back, grounding you in the midst of your chaos.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, the comfort of his presence erasing everything else. His warmth seeps into your bones, and despite every rational thought screaming at you to pull away, you stay. It's dangerous, how easy it is to fall back into this, how simple it feels to let him hold you like he used to.

“I tried to move on too,” he admits quietly, his voice low and raw. “But it’s you, it’s always been you.”

His words tear through the walls you've built, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. You want to push him away, to tell him to shut up, but your body betrays you, leaning closer instead. It's infuriating, this pull he has on you, this gravitational force that drags you back no matter how far you run.

Then his lips find your temple, lingering there as if he's testing the waters, asking permission without words. You shudder against him, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His lips move down, pressing soft kisses along the apple of your cheek, until he hits the corner of your mouth. His hand tightens at your waist, and before you can think it through, his mouth is on yours.

It's everything you remember and more.

His lips are soft but insistent, moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own. The anguish melts away, replaced by a desperate, aching need that leaves you breathless. His hands trace up your torso, holding your chest against his, and you let out a sound you can’t contain as he deepens the kiss.

It's intoxicating. Familiar and yet completely new. He tastes like everything you miss, everything you swore you didn't need but always craved.

And for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it.

But then the weight of reality slams into you.

You break away, gasping for breath, your chest heaving. Quinn's eyes are dark and dazed, his lips red and swollen, but you don’t let yourself linger on the sight. You push him back, putting space between you, your heart pounding so loudly you can hear it in your ears.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demand, your voice shaking with anger and confusion. “You can’t just— God, Quinn, you can’t just kiss me and expect everything to be okay!”

He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand, stopping him. “No. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

The tears are back, blurring your vision, but you blink them away. “You don’t get to ruin me and then kiss me like it fixes everything. That’s not how this works.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with tension. Quinn looks like he wants to say something, but you don’t give him the chance. You’re already moving toward the door, your hands trembling as you reach for the handle.

“Wait,” he says, his voice desperate. “Please— don’t leave like this.”

You pause, your back to him, your shoulders stiff. “I can’t do this, Quinn. I just… I can’t.”

And then you’re gone.

You don’t look back as you walk down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing in your ears. Your chest feels like it’s caving in, your lungs struggling to take in air. But you keep moving, keep walking, because stopping would mean facing the truth you’re not ready to confront.

That no matter how much you hate him for complicating your life, for breaking your heart, for being the chaos in your carefully constructed world — you can’t fully hate him.

Because deep down, you still love him.

And that terrifies you more than anything else.

[paracosmic-murdock]

if i could save time in a bottle

part three

pairing: bucky barnes x goddess!reader

summary: thor and steve set up a little encounter between you and bucky, one that didn't even feel like a date but that paved the way to an impromptu, later one, after he wakes up from a nightmare and his first instinct is to reach out to you. the date, full of honesty and vulnerability, made sure for the both of you to know that, above all, you loved each other, and nothing either of you did or went through could change that. the date, also, went way better than expected.

warnings/tags: takes place after endgame (2019), steve does stay 'till the end of the line, hurt/comfort, suggestive jokes, bucky healing era, reader is thor's sister, no physical description tho, fluff, mystic arts, use of portals, dates, insecurities, bucky's nightmares, implied sa (bucky during his winter soldier years), references to other mcu characters (thor, steve, loki, odin, frigga, and dr strange), reader details her powers, bucky opens up about the winter soldier, mentions of deaths (loki, odin, howard stark, and maria stark), cutesy intimate moments, reminiscing, i can't stop thinking about them i need to write more bucky x goddess!reader, even if it flops, some smut (unprotected sex, fingering♡, p in v, teasing, body worship (bucky's), many "i love you's" while fucking—words of affirmation for the fancy ones), minors dni!!

word count: 4K

✰ part one | part two | part four

✰ related os: when you know, you know

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

no taglist but there could be one, so lmk in the comments if you'd like to be in it ;))

You looked at Bucky from afar, not knowing how you had managed to keep yourself from running to him the moment your eyes spotted him.

It had been only a few days, but Thor and Steve didn't waste any time.

There you were, at the same place you had met him more than eighty years ago. Now, it was some coffee shop named Starbucks and they had drinks ‘inspired’ by your brother and his friends. It was almost a profanity after everything.

Bucky raised his arm to get your attention, leather gloves on as if it were cold inside. His hair, shorter, as if he knew how the familiarity of it eased your mind—how the old times eased you.

“Hi,” You sat across from him. “How are you?”

He smiled softly. “Hi, doll. I'm fine, you?”

Doll. “Me as well.”

“I ordered for you,” Bucky motioned at the table. “What you always used to order.”

You noticed how it wasn't a teacup but a paper one, and how it was the same drink you used to order. The same pastry. The same everything, just… different.

“I love the hair,”

“I knew you'd like it.” He chuckled.

“Oh, did you?” you teased him.

“That's why I cut it if there was any doubt.”

You smiled slightly, face flushed like a lovestruck young girl. “The long hair looked good, too, but this look has no comparison. The beard suits you quite well.”

“Even bolder than I recalled,” Bucky blushed.

“Will you call me out now, Barnes?” you questioned with a smirk. “I thought you liked me like that.”

Bucky laughed. “I've missed you.”

“Buck,” you called him, your hand approaching his carefully. His breath hitched; he didn't move or speak, he only looked at you. “Can we…” You cleared your throat and looked down for a second. “I know we have both gone through things that have changed us and we may not be the same people we were when we first fell in love, but I… I never stopped loving you. Even when I thought there was no you to love anymore, the one thing that time didn't change, the only thing that life never took from me is the love I have for you, Bucky. Can we… start over? Can we do this?”

His fingers, still shielded under those gloves —which, for some reason you were unaware of, made you restless—, grazed yours slightly.

“Are you sure about this? Because… you said it yourself, we're not the same people, and I'm pretty sure I am not a person who deserves you; to be honest, I never was-”

“I do not care about who deserves who, I only care about what I need,” you interrupted him. “And that's you. You are all I need.”

He exhaled, tired from the fight between giving up and giving in. “You know I love you, too, but what if that's the only thing we have in common now?”

“Well, it is up to us to figure that out,” you said. “If I survived all these years, all the tragedies that I went through, if I went to that funeral, if we're here in front of each other, Bucky, it is for a reason. We are meant to be.”

“We are?” His face softened, the walls around him crumbling ever so slightly that, if you were sneaky enough, if you tried hard enough, you could slip in.

You intertwined your hands. “We are. And I don't know whatever happened to you, but if there's something I know, it is that nothing you tell me will scare me away. If you truly don't love me anymore, if you want me away from you because you do not love me, I will leave you alone. Otherwise, trust that I am here to stay, and that I have all the time in the world to prove to you that I am not going anywhere and that I will love you through everything.”

He nodded, smiling faintly.

It breaks you to know that he suffered in a way that took that smile you so much adore from him. Where are the jokes? The teasing? The laughter?

“Can I try my luck?”

You grinned as he repeated the words he said the first time you met. “By all means, sir.”

“My name's James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You introduced yourself, offering him your hand.

He took it. “Odindottir?”

“My father's name was Odin, the Allfather, King of Asgard. May He find peace in Valhalla, home to the souls of the honorable.”

“So you're a princess?”

“And a goddess,” you completed. “Who are you, Bucky Barnes?”

“That, I'm trying to figure out,”

“That, we can do together.”

He chuckled. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“For you?” You raised your eyebrow, and Bucky nodded, almost fearing a negative. “Every hour of every day of every week.”

He exhaled, relieved, and smirked. “Would you like to have dinner with me at seven? As a date?”

You nodded. “Pick me up at 177A Bleecker Street. Pay no mind to my brother if you see him around, for he tends to overstep.”

“I can fight him.” Bucky shrugged.

You snorted. “Do yourself a favor and do not. Have some sense of self-preservation, pretty boy.”

“You have so little faith in me? That's a rough start.”

“He won against the Hulk. He was not lying like everyone thinks, I saw it in his mind.”

“You read minds?” Bucky asked, telling himself that it didn't scare him, though knowing it did.

“Thor and Loki used to get in trouble all the time, so I used magic to read their minds and see who was telling the truth,” you replied. “I taught Loki and he ended up using it for evil, so that is pretty much on me.”

“I will need you to promise not to read my mind,” he muttered. He tried to sound like he was joking, but you knew better.

“Okay, but can I still use my magic to, let's say, make you dream of me?”

Bucky hummed. “You don't really need magic for that.”

“You'll dream of me,” you declared. “No magic at all, and that is a promise.”

That night, he didn't at first. He had a nightmare first, one of those that made him wake up sweaty and scared to open his eyes to that HYDRA facility, tied to that chair; or with a gun in his hand, pointing at a target.

He woke up on the floor of his new apartment, bed sheets wet and back pain.

Bucky took his phone and considered texting Steve to see if he was awake by chance. Instead, your name shone on the screen and he typed an ‘Are you awake?’ before he could dare to regret it.

You called him less than a second later.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“You could not sleep?”

“No,” he confessed. “You?”

“No, me neither.”

“Why couldn't you sleep?”

“I'm feeling a little restless,” you said. “You?”

“Had a nightmare.”

“Do you have many of those?”

“I don't think you could guess how many.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Tell me.”

“Every night,” Bucky stood up and went to the kitchen. “How often do you feel restless?”

“Every night.”

“What do you do to feel better?”

“I try to think about a good memory,” you replied. “You should try that.”

“I don't have many good memories left.”

You hummed. “How about… March 10th, 1939. Your birthday. There was this big party at the bar we met, and I took you home with me that night.”

The memory started building in his mind, making him blush.

“Remember the red dress?”

“Yeah.”

“You ripped it off of me,” you reminded him. “Then you touched me everywhere, kissed me where the sun hadn't been, and we made love that night for the first time.”

The memory flashed before his eyes right then and there, and Bucky's breath hitched when a phantom of your taste appeared underneath his tongue and a hint of the angriest of reds, the one from your lips, where the sun hadn't been, appeared behind his eyelids.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Bucky questioned you, feeling himself go hard. He let out a shaky breath.

“Me?” You feigned innocence. “I'm just reminding you of a good time.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Too good to go to sleep.”

“Then don't,” you smirked. “Would you like to go somewhere?”

“Like where?”

“Come here,” You bit your lip at the uncertainty of his reaction. “And I'll take you somewhere nice.”

He hummed. “Now?”

“We are both awake with nothing to do, aren't we?”

“Yeah,” He nodded as if you could see him. “Okay, I'll see you there.”

“Let me know me when you arrive.”

“Hi, Buck,”

Bucky smiled. “Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Not really until I know where you're taking me,” He smiled, mesmerized by the red on your lips that took him back to the days you were his and he, yours.

“The first time I came to Earth, we went to Norway,” you began. “I saw these for the very first time, they were… majestic. And just then, you know this world was made by a god because there is no way something as such exists as a mere phenomenon.”

“A god as in your father?”

You clicked your tongue. “I do not dare to question a thing.”

“Are you taking me to Norway?”

“No, it's day-time there,” you answered. “I am taking you north.”

You used your index and middle finger to create a portal, showing Bucky a small shack under a sky full of colors and stars, the winter air giving it all a mystical touch.

“How do you do that, again?” Bucky frowned, looking at you instead of the other side.

“It's, uh…, the Mystic Arts,” you replied, holding onto his arm, feeling it harder than a normal one, but said nothing. He realized you had noticed it and went stiff, though thankful that you didn't speak about it. “You know Strange makes them, but he uses a ring. I do not need one, I can make them myself. Just like other spells, and… I'm not going to bore you with this-”

He chuckled. “No, God, I need you to tell me everything you can do. It's fascinating.”

“Come,” you pulled him through the portal and closed it behind you. Bucky pretended like he wasn't absolutely astounded. Confused. Kind of scared. “Watch them.”

Bucky shuddered when you used your fingers to lift his face so he could look at the sky. Your touch on his skin was comforting, like blinking and appearing on a day where he was happy.

“They are beautiful,” He admired them: pink, green, blue, purple aurora borealis, thousands of stars above them; and, still, they weren't the most appealing thing in that place. “I'd never seen them before.”

“You said to me once that you've always wanted to see the beautiful things in the world,” you reminded him. “That you wanted to see all the stars, all the places from the books, and… that you had only ever seen war.”

“You remember all that?”

“I remember it all,” you answered. “Are you cold?”

He shook his head and looked to the other side. “No, I'm alright.”

You smirked and used magic to give him a thicker jacket, one with soft fur on the inside to keep him warm.

“It's an illusion,” you explained. “Is it better?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bucky smiled. “Wait, this means that every time you were cold and I gave you my jacket, you could've done this?”

You laughed, motioning him to follow you to the shack. “Yeah.”

“That's evil,” he noted, following you closely. “What else can you do?”

“I can turn back time,” you began, still looking at the lights in the sky, now through the window. “Like… I can turn back time in general and I can do so with specific objects, like your hair to make it long again. I can undo things, go back to moments, stop time, I could see the past and the future, every future, but I don't do it often since it's against the rules. I can make portals and go anywhere in the universe and beyond, I can cast spells, read and manipulate minds. I used to fight as well, but I don't anymore. I, uhm, it's the power of the time stone in me, Mother created me from it. The Mystic Arts, as I said, and Asgardian magic.”

“That's impressive.”

You huffed and took a seat. So did he. “And what can you do?”

“Well, I am a super soldier.”

“Like Steve?”

“When he told you I was dead, I wasn't,” Bucky sighed. “I fell from the train and I lost my arm. The people who found me, HYDRA, they… gave me the serum and…”

“We don't have to talk about it if you do not want to tell me.”

“It's not that, it's just… They made me do things, unspeakable things. I did them, and it haunts me. I don't want you to think of me as what they turned me into.”

“No matter what you did, I will always think of you with nothing but love, fondness, and respect, Bucky.”

“Even if I did things you would hate me for?”

You hummed. “My brother tried to colonize the Earth, and Asgard, too. He faked his death and mistreated me like no other when he found out he was adopted. He sent Father here, usurped the throne, and pretty much drove him mad. There were casualties, I am sure. I am not saying I am proud of Loki, but I do not love him any less than the day I first held him in my arms, not even now that he is dead. Try me, Buck.”

Bucky thought it through. You could just ask your brother, or Steve, or anybody, and you will know exactly what he did. You had to hear it from him, or it could be even worse.

“The Winter Soldier,” he murmured. “I'm… not him anymore, but sometimes I can't just isolate myself from what I did when I was him. It was me, I remember all of it. Every person I hurt, every life I took, I remember it all too well.”

Your expression softened, and you tilted your head. “The Winter Soldier?”

“Yeah. HYDRA, they wiped my memory and… they did all these things to me, they… programmed me like a robot so I did just about anything they told me to with no control at all. They tortured me, they…”

A shaky exhale left your lips at the thought of someone hurting him. It pained you to see how he deviated his gaze from you, how he feared your rejection.

“I killed Howard and his wife, Maria.”

You just stared at him in silence, thinking about the heavy burden of the guilt he must carry on himself. The pain it must be causing. The nightmares.

“I almost killed Steve one time.”

“Bucky?”

He looked at you finally. “You don't have to accept me or any of it. I understand I am not the man you loved, that… you may not feel safe with me.”

“Don't ever say that,” You pressed your forehead against his and cupped his face. “I know you will never hurt me. There's nowhere safer than beside you for me to be.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Bucky asked, his words so heavy it felt like a beg for a yes instead of a multiple choice question.

“Yes,” you confirmed, focusing on the way his breath blended with yours, on how you haven't been this close to anybody in almost seventy-eight years, on how you felt like you belonged to him more than anywhere else in the cosmos. “I love you.”

He brushed his nose with yours, closing his eyes slowly. “I love you.”

“I love you.” you repeated, eyes closed, too, words colliding against Bucky's lips with how close you were now. Your lips, grazing against each other's, yearned for the slightest contact.

It wasn't slight at all.

The first thing he felt was you biting his lower lip. In response, Bucky held your chin and made you open your mouth wider, instantly slipping his tongue into your mouth and giving you one intoxicating, messy, breathtaking kiss.

His left hand took the glove from his right hand off, his soft fingers buried in your hair, grasping it to break the kiss and pull your head back so he could start leaving sweet kisses and shy bites on your neck. “I love you.”

Bucky kissed all the way back to your lips and left there another one, one quick. Then, he parted from you, taking off the glove from his left hand and the jacket you gave him right after. You could see a glint of golden in his arm, and the rest was jet black.

You hesitated to touch him, fearing his reaction, so you just stood up and took off your coat, your shoes, your jeans, your t-shirt, and your bra. He gasped; he found you even more beautiful than the day he last saw you.

“Wow,” Bucky interjected, the blue in his eyes turning darker in yearning. “God-”

A heavy exhale left your lips, and you returned to him—but closer. You straddled him and locked your eyes with his, making sure for him to know how much you needed this. Bucky didn't expect it, for you to take his hands in yours and place them on each of your breasts. “Touch me.”

The cold of his vibranium arm made you shudder, the way he squeezed your breasts, almost hesitant, elicited a loud moan from your lips, a sudden jerk of your hips, which crashed against him. Bucky analyzed the expressions of your face with each touch.

He didn't know what he loved more to see: the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed, or the red lipstick stains on your face. Or, maybe, how the northern lights illuminated you from behind, making it look as though you were the one shining just as bright.

“I love you,” you whimpered. Bucky pulled you forward and started sucking on your skin slowly until he trapped one of your nipples in his mouth. With one hand finding support on his shoulder, the vibranium one, and the other pulling his hair and holding his head in place, you moaned his name like a love song. “Buck- Bucky, I love you.”

“I love you, doll,” Bucky spoke in a soft groan. You attempted to take off his t-shirt, but he stopped you before you could. “Wait.”

“We don't have to continue,” you rushed to say. Bucky sighed.

“You think I wanna stop?”

You pursed your lips. “Would you like to keep your t-shirt on, then?”

He shook his head. “Yeah. No, wait, no. I just… I look different now.”

“What?” You frowned.

Bucky nodded. “I have scars. Too many. And they're not very nice to look at.”

“That's a relief, I thought you were green or something. I would have been a tad disappointed, I cannot lie to you, but I like you too much, I could have managed.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed. “Let me take that off, will you?”

“Okay.”

Your hands shyly took the hem of the navy blue t-shirt, slowly revealing scars from fights or even more. Finally, you lifted it completely and saw the place where skin and metal met.

There were indeed many scars; striking, painful. It broke you to think how much it hurt him, the difficulty it must signify for him to look at himself and remember all the torture he went through.

“Bucky,” You met his gaze again, one that begged for your approval. “You are perfect.”

The fear in his eyes, gone out in an instant. The vulnerability, turned to love as you kissed his lips and all the way down his neck, collarbone, his scars.

“You are perfect, and I am in love with you and all that you are.”

“I love you.”

You looked at him as you left a red kiss on the cold, vibranium shoulder, and played with the buttons of his jeans. “I love you.”

Bucky smiled and helped you take the rest of his clothes off. He kissed you urgently, as if nothing else mattered in his life. He touched you like a sensory experience, held onto you as if you could disappear any second now.

It had been a couple hours since you started, all teasing and touching, not getting to the point yet. Bucky enjoyed seeing you beg for him. He was also losing himself in the moment, focusing on you. It was you, no one else. He wanted this. He wanted this.

“What can I do?” you asked him, panting desperately, a tear running down your face. “For you to fuck me?”

Bucky grunted, the almost angry grip of his flesh arm on your thigh traveling to the inner part of it. Despite not being remotely close to you, he felt the wet mess he had made of you.

He hushed you. “Wait.”

“You do realize there is a goddess in your arms, begging you to fuck her?”

“Aren't I a lucky one?” Bucky smirked, cocky.

“Oh, go to hell,” You cried out, and, when you were just about to pull away from him, Bucky held you harder. “Bucky… oh-”

His heart and middle fingers softly caressed you and, without warning, went inside you. “That's what you wanted?”

You looked him in the eyes and shook your head eagerly. Bucky raised his eyebrows, acting like he was oblivious to your needs.

He hummed, lifting you slowly and flipping you until you were under him.

You didn't know when it happened, how it happened, you just knew he was filling you now, giving you all that you wanted.

Bucky moaned your name, looking at you. He pulled out and then went back in. “And this?”

“Yes, this,” you answered and kissed him again, rejoicing in the way he moved inside of you and the softness of his lips. “This… you.”

“Me?” he asked, the word falling in a whisper.

“You. Faster.”

He did as you told him, a glint in his eyes so devoted that you thought of his love as something above you. “Like this?”

With hands intertwined, breaths becoming one, and eyes locked, you felt in heaven. You were with Bucky. The moment you had longed for for so very long… there.

There, right there. “I'm close,” you faltered.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky sped up his thrusts, now careless, mouth hungrily capturing yours in a kiss.

“Pretty boy,” you called him, surprised to be able to speak. “Look at me.”

Bucky did so, his blue eyes you have always been enraptured by were there, right there, looking at you as if you were everything.

In a way, you were. In his way. You were everything to him.

“I love you.”

He smiled, close, so close. “I love you.”

“I will always love you, Bucky,” You felt your body shake at the proximity of your release, one that wouldn't come properly unless you guided him to peace. “And I will always take care of you. You are safe, your heart is safe with me, I promise you until the end of time.”

Bucky let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes shut as he came inside of you. He didn't stop, he wouldn't dare until you did as well.

“I will love you until the end of time, too,” he breathed out and drove his vibranium hand south to draw even circles on you, to bring you closer. “Even when I'm dead and you're not… I'll still love you. For always.”

“Bucky,” you whimpered, legs shaking as you came. Waves, violent waves of pleasure took over you as he seeked for your lips to kiss you, to swallow his name from your mouth.

As soon as you steadied yourself, you pulled away from Bucky and lied beside him.

“We didn't use protection,”

You groaned as you realized. “There are no known cases of Half Asgardian-Half Midgardian children.”

Well, well.

“I'll talk about this tomorrow in therapy. It's my first mandatory session.”

“We have dated for eighty-six years since we never broke up. Children aren't precisely out of order,”

Bucky snorted. “I'm pretty sure we'll have to get married first. I'm an old fashioned guy and you're a princess. Your father would hate me from Valhala.”

“Thor is not above killing you,”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, tension he didn't know he had in himself about a thing he used to pray for. “I would be a mess of a father, though.”

“You would be great.”

Bucky smiled slightly. If you believed that, he could work on it.

“Why are we talking about this?”

“We didn't use protection so there is a slight possibility we make a... demigod child? Oh, with a supersoldier father and a made-from-an-infinity-stone-goddess mother.”

“I hope the baby doesn't inherit your brother's hyperactivity.”

“Your staring problem would be a worse thing to inherit, pretty boy,” You shook your head. “Perhaps we should stop speaking on the subject, lest we attract it.”

“I hope they have your smile,”

You hummed. “And your eyes.”

“Can we name her after my mother if it's a girl?”

“Why don't we make her first and then worry about the names?”

“We have to get married first.”

“Yes, it is true,” You agreed, kissing his lips softly. “When you first mentioned having children, I believed we would not be able to. Now, I think we could when the time comes.”

“We have time,”

“We have time.” you repeated.