#Receiving Calculation Results

[beemovieerotica]

No wonder “gender identity,” understood by well-meaning LGBTQ+ advocates as an abstract feeling, has done such a poor job of justifying sex change. If biological sex is part of a material structure of value, then society has a concrete interest in any potential gains or losses that may result, feelings be damned.

Gill-Peterson tells the story of Robert Stonestreet, a 10-year-old boy who was brought to the Johns Hopkins Hospital for a rare urethral defect in 1915. When the doctors informed his father that the boy had ovaries and should be reassigned as a girl, the man refused, explaining that he already had six girls at home and his son was a great help around the family farm. Of course, Stonestreet was prepubescent. Whatever biological advantage he had over his sisters was the natural spoils of working daily on a farm. The point is that his father’s social validation of his gender was the basically incidental result of an economic calculation about his sex. Twenty-one years later, Stonestreet asked the same doctors to certify him as male so he could wed his fiancée. They refused — one suspects because a marriage with no reproductive potential struck them as dead in the water, especially with the national birth rate at an all-time low. Three days later, Stonestreet committed suicide — the victim of a society that could not make up its mind on how best to make sense of his gender while also extracting value from his sex.

This is the larger historical reason why the anti-trans movement does not want transgender people to receive sex-altering care. It is not clear how, if at all, such people will fit into the division of sex in America.

-Andrea Long Chu

[papayainsectorone]

Pregame Paddock Entertainment.

summary: what starts as playful jealousy simmers into something hotter, dirtier, and undeniably possessive. a little tension. a little show.

content: 18+!! smut, nsfw, friends-to-lovers, smut, public sex (semi), jealousy, possessiveness (playful), oral sex (f receiving), dom-ish lando

word count: 2.5k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader walls are way too thin - series - a´s masterlist

might be confusing if read as standalone

The paddock hums with its usual chaos—cameras clicking in rapid bursts, pit crews weaving between garages, lanyards swinging with purpose. Nothing’s changed, not really. Same crowd. Same noise. Same familiar rhythm of race weekend life.

But you feel different.

You’re still playing your usual part—half a step behind Lando, fingers curled around a cold bottle of water, sunglasses perched high on your nose. You smile when people greet you, laugh at the right moments, pluck fruit from the McLaren snack table without guilt. To everyone else, you’re still just his best friend. The girl who’s always around. The one who knows the engineers by name and knows better than to post from the garage.

But underneath it all, there’s a quiet hum in your chest. A steady, simmering confidence. Because you know something no one else does.

And it’s not guilt. It’s not nerves. It’s not even about hiding it. It’s just... yours. You wear it like a secret laced into your skin: the kind of knowing that adds a little extra sway to your hips and a slight smirk when Lando’s hand brushes a little too close to your lower back on the walk in.

You’re still basking in that quiet heat when Charles finds you.

“There she is,” he says, strolling over like the air bends for him. He’s in Ferrari red, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy like he hasn’t stopped since morning. God, he’s unreal—sunlight catching on his jaw, that accent already waiting to ruin you.

You smirk. “Already looking for me? Race day flirting starting early?”

He laughs, low and amused, glancing you over. “You look different today. Glowy.” His tone is playful, but his eyes search your face like he’s trying to place the change. “Something good happen?”

You raise your brows, feigning innocence. “Maybe it’s just the lighting.”

Charles narrows his eyes, like he knows there’s more to it. Because of course he does. You’ve been trading barbs and glances for months now, both of you too charming for your own good, too smart to let it go anywhere—except for that one night, the post-race blur where champagne turned to tequila and tequila turned into you pressed against a bar stool with his lips on yours.

It hadn’t gone further. Not really. But he remembers. And so do you.

Now, he steps just a little closer, enough for his voice to drop. “You’re walking around like you’ve got secrets.”

You grin. “Maybe I do.”

A beat passes between you, heavy with heat and things left unsaid.

Then Lando calls your name from behind, laughing about something you didn’t hear. You turn your head toward him, and just for a second, Charles follows your gaze—and the way Lando’s eyes stay on you a moment too long.

Charles looks back at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

He leans in a little, that easy grin on his face. “If it’s the lighting, I want some of it.”

You laugh, the sound instinctive, effortless. You swat his arm like always—light, playful, maybe lingering a second too long. But even before you glance beside you, you feel the shift.

Lando hasn’t said a word.

No quick-witted jab. No teasing smirk. Just silence. Stillness.

You turn your head, and sure enough—he’s watching. Not glaring. Not even frowning. Just... quiet. His jaw’s set tighter than usual, brows faintly drawn, like he’s working out a calculation in his head he doesn’t particularly like the result of.

And that feels different, too.

Charles doesn’t notice. Or he does, and he plays through it anyway, cool as ever. He shifts his weight against the wall like he belongs in a photoshoot, casually hot in a way he’s never had to try for. His eyes flick back to you.

“There’s a party Sunday night,” he says, his voice velvet-wrapped in that maddening Monaco-French lilt. “I’d love it if you came.”

The corner of your mouth quirks before you can stop it. “You know I love a good party.”

You don’t even think twice as you glance over your shoulder. “Lando, you coming?”

“Yeah.” His reply is immediate, automatic. “Of course. I was actually gonna ask you about it.”

But his tone—flat, a hair too precise—gives him away. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough to be sharp if you know how to listen. And you do.

Charles doesn’t seem to hear it. Or chooses not to. He flashes that signature grin, gives you a two-finger salute, and disappears into the paddock like nothing about the moment just shifted.

Lando’s eyes follow him until he rounds the corner. His jaw flexes once. Twice.

The walk across the paddock isn’t unusual. You and Lando side by side, slipping through clusters of people calling out greetings, dodging a few cameras, pausing to talk to someone from Red Bull you only sort of know. It’s familiar—routine, even—but something’s off.

Not in a dramatic way. Just... quieter.

Lando’s usually running commentary, sarcasm, muttered jokes, snide impressions of other drivers is conspicuously missing. Instead, he walks with his hands in his pockets, gaze distant, mouth drawn in thought. Not sulking, just... somewhere else.

You figure it’s paddock fatigue. Or maybe pre-race mode. You’ve seen it before. No big deal. That’s what you tell yourself.

But the energy sticks to you, follows you both into the McLaren motorhome. You make your way through the familiar halls until you’re finally inside his driver room. He opens the door for you, lets you step in first, then quietly shuts it behind him.

You spin around and lean against the tiny table, arms crossed loosely. “Alright, what’s with the broody silence? You’ve gone full tortured poet on me.”

Lando snorts. “Apparently Leclerc’s hotter than me. Tough break.”

You laugh. “Oh, my poor jealous baby.”

He scoffs, arms folded now, shoulder pressed to the door like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You and Charles were basically eye-fucking in the paddock.”

You blink. “We’ve always been flirty. That’s just Charles.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I remember your definition of ‘flirty’ from that post-race party last year.”

You smirk, amused. “Oh, you mean the one drunk kiss in the dark corner of a club while you were fucking that girl in the bathroom?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Still. I had plans to ask you to the party Saturday. But I figured lover boy with the accent beat me to it.”

You raise a brow. “My type now, is he?”

“Well, yeah,” Lando says, eyes flicking over you, then back to the floor. “He’s got the hair. The voice. That whole French Riviera romance novel vibe.”

You snort again. “You’re actually jealous.”

“I’m just saying,” he sighs, finally pushing off the door and walking toward you, “this friends-with-benefits thing? I like it. Like... a lot.”

You watch him quietly now, curiosity blooming under your grin.

He runs a hand through his curls, frustrated. “And yeah, the sex is insane, but also—God, I don’t want you swapping me out for some Ferrari upgrade.”

Your laugh is immediate and sharp. “Lando. You absolute twat.”

He stops in front of you, grinning despite himself, but there’s something in his eyes—something he’s not trying to hide anymore. Lust.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters.

“Like what?”

“Like you know exactly how hot this makes you.”

You pretend to think. “Hmm. Jealous Norris is kinda sexy. Might be my type after all.”

He groans. “You’re the worst.”

You giggle, hand resting on his chest. “Yeah, but I’m your worst.”

“You flirting with Leclerc just to mess with me?”

“Maybe I will from now on” You grin. “But I’m not in the mood to let you watch me fuck someone else either.”

He inhales sharply—caught between a laugh and something deeper.

And before he can speak, you kiss him. Slow. Teasing. Sure.

When you pull back, your lips hover a breath from his. “At least not yet.”

Lando stares at you, stunned for a beat, then lets out a groan-laugh. “You’re evil.”

You beam. “You love it.”

He leans in again. “Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “Way too much.”

“Maybe i should remind you who you´re leaving the paddock with.”

He doesn’t say more than that—just surges forward and kisses you like he’s been holding back. It’s sharp and possessive, all tongue and heat. You barely register the click of the door lock sliding shut until his hands are on your hips, guiding you back step by step.

You laugh breathlessly when the backs of your thighs hit the narrow bench. “Seriously? Here?”

Lando’s already leaning in, eyes alight with smug mischief. “Charles’ motorhome is right across the path.”

You blink. “You’re seriously serious?” But you’re laughing, even as your pulse kicks.

“Window’s open too.” He tilts his head toward it, voice deliciously low. “Thought you liked a little excitement.”

You open your mouth to retort—something sarcastic and mildly threatening—but you never get the chance. He kisses you again before words can come, and this time it’s filthier. Slower. Deeper. Like he’s tasting something he missed.

Clothes get tugged away in messy, impatient layers. Your top is rucked up to your ribs, and his hands are everywhere—skimming your sides, cupping your breasts, fingers dipping just low enough to make you twitch.

By the time he sinks to his knees, you're already breathless.

He glances up at you through thick lashes, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing grin. “You said you like parties,” he murmurs, parting your thighs with deliberate ease.

“Lando—” your voice stumbles somewhere between warning and begging.

“Shh.” His breath ghosts over your skin. “Be a good girl and scream.”

Then his mouth is on you—hot and slow, tongue flicking in maddening patterns that make your head drop back against the wall with a thud. He licks you like he’s savoring something sweet, teasing your clit with just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge without giving in.

Your moans come out muffled, trapped behind your hand as you press your palm to your mouth, trying not to make a scene. But it’s hard to be quiet when his curls are brushing your thighs and he’s humming against you like he’s got a favorite song playing in his head.

Your fingers grip his hair, tugging reflexively as he flattens his tongue and rolls it, again and again, right there.

“Fuck—Lando,” you gasp, hips jumping beneath his hold.

He pulls back just far enough to look up at you, eyes dark, lips glistening. “Little louder, yeah? Let them hear.”

You manage a breathless glare, but it falters when he presses two fingers into you and sucks at your clit at the same time. Your gasp escapes unfiltered—loud, desperate, your head tipping back, chest heaving with each breath.

“Good girl,” he mutters, almost reverently, but there’s mischief in it too.

By the time he stands, you’re trembling, your knees weak from trying to keep it together. He doesn’t gloat—not really. Just slides his briefs down, eyes locked on your eyes as he guides himself to your entrance.

And when he sinks in—slow and deep, hips slotting against yours with a delicious press���you swear the whole motorhome tilts.

It knocks the breath out of you. You hold onto his shoulders as he starts to move deep, smooth strokes that build and build and build. One of his hands grips your thigh while the other cups your jaw, keeping your gaze on him like he wants you to see how badly you’re unraveling for him.

“Still thinking about Charles?” Lando mutters, voice low and cocky, lips brushing your ear as his hips snap harder, deeper.

You laugh—sharp, breathless—but it stutters into a moan when he shifts just right, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Didn’t think so,” he grits, and the smugness in his tone is nearly drowned out by the sound you make in response.

You claw at his back, nails dragging just enough to make him hiss, your breath catching as pleasure coils tight in your belly. The rhythm of his thrusts gets rougher, more erratic, like he’s chasing it too, both of you right on the edge.

“Fuck—Lando, I’m—”

“I know,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours, voice cracking with how close he is. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

And you do—body arching, thighs shaking, the kind of release that makes your vision white out at the edges. You bite your lip hard to keep from yelling his name, but the sound still slips out, raw and broken.

Lando’s not far behind. He swears under his breath, hips grinding deep one last time before he stills, groaning your name like a secret slipping past his teeth. His fingers tighten at your waist as he pulses inside you, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot and fast against your skin.

You both stay like that for a moment sweaty, breathless, tangled.

Then he lifts his head, smirks down at you, and says, “Still think he’s hotter than me?”

You snort. “You’re insufferable.”

He's calmer now. Sweaty, flushed, but calmer. He’s pulled his fireproofs halfway back up and is hunched over on the bench beside you, elbows on knees, hands running through his hair like he’s trying to cool himself off or gather the pieces of his sanity. Maybe both.

You nudge his bare arm with your knee. “You good?”

He chuckles, breath still slightly uneven. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect to get all—” he waves his hand vaguely in the air “—possessive like that. Bit of a dick move.”

You arch an eyebrow. “A bit?”

He laughs, but then turns to look at you properly. “I’m serious. I’m not actually mad about Charles. He’s a good guy. And if you wanted to—” he shrugs “—y’know. Go there. That’d be completely fine. Your call.”

You stare at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you say, voice sweet. “That why you had to make me come so hard half the paddock probably heard it?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it. Just smirks, smug and lazy, eyes flicking down your body like he’s reliving it. “You were mine first.”

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, but you're grinning. “You’re so annoying.”

He beams. “Yeah, but I’m right.”

A beat passes. You both sit there in the comfortable aftermath, heartbeat finally leveling out, skin cooling. Then you glance at the still-open window and groan. “God, I hope this is still a secret.”

He snorts and stands, pulling his suit up fully now. “It will be.”

You raise a brow.

“I’ll be subtle,” he adds, grinning like he absolutely will not be.

He bends down and kisses your cheek, soft and lingering. “Wish me luck.”

“Go be fast,” you mutter, still catching your breath.

He’s out the door before you can say anything else.

tag list: @lifesass @norrisjpg @random-movie @widow-cevans @mxdi0

[aureatelys]

something only you can have

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!reader genre: filthy depraved smut w.c.: 4k a/n: this is a result of peer pressure /j but uhm seriously if you dont like, dont read :)

summary: You and Hotch try something new.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, PISS KINK/DESPERATION, squirting, newly established relationship, dom/sub elements, no prior kink discussion (dont be like them), fingering, m masturbation, THERES PISS BTW

read below or on ao3 here <3

It all started while you were out on a case.

This unsub was pissing you off. Scratch that, it was pissing you all off.

You had been stuck in Texas for almost two weeks with nearly every single lead falling through spectacularly. You could tell everyone was close to their wit’s end, based off of Spencer nearly biting your head off this morning when you greeted him and Penelope not even giving you a silly nickname when you called her earlier.

But now, finally, you had received an anonymous tip and everyone was scrambling to get strapped up and out the door. The sigh of relief in the room was palpable when Hotch found the tip credible, everyone secretly hoping that this would work out and you guys can finally fucking go home.

Stress was starting to eat away at you as well— with the precinct’s AC breaking down yesterday, you were starting to run out of clean clothes, and you really had to pee.

You already had your vest on, shifting in place while Hotch barked out orders to the other officers. You’re seriously regretting the amount of water you’ve had today, but with the AC out and having had sweat through your shirt within the first hour of arriving at the precinct, you didn’t really have a choice.

“I’m going to go use the restroom real quick,” you whisper into Hotch’s ear, leaning in close enough to get a whiff of his cologne.

You don’t even wait for a response, about to turn on your heel and ready to sprint to the restroom because you’re seconds away from having to squeeze your legs together, when Hotch’s voice stops you.

“Can you hold it?”

You blink up at him, incredulous enough that it almost distracts you from the increasing pressure of your bladder and the sweat dripping down the side of your neck. “What?”

“We need to go now. Do you think you can hold it?”

You want to tell him no, you can’t fucking hold it, but there was something in his voice that has you pausing.

You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t had time alone with Hotch in weeks, having to be content with light brushes of fingers and lingering looks before saying good night. You’re not sure if it’s because Hotch just looks really good in his vest or if it’s that voice. Stern, low and a bit too similar to the same kind of voice he’s recently started using in the bedroom, eyes dark and calculating.

You’re not sure if the heat or the lack of sleep has gotten to you, but it’s the way his voice tugs at you, low in your stomach in a completely different way, that has you huffing out an exhale and obeying.

“Yeah, I can hold it.”

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you, as if shocked, like he didn’t actually think you were going to listen to him. You don’t blame him, you seldom do.

You’re not exactly sure why you feel nervous, heat crawling up your neck and heart thudding a little bit harder.

Despite this thing between you and Hotch still being… new, it was still comfortable. It was even more comfortable in the bedroom, where you learned that Hotch liked to take control and you liked to give it to him, if only with a little bit of defiant teasing to get him riled up.

But this? Relinquishing this sort of control to him had your mind reeling and the air knocking out of your lungs.

It must show on your face, because suddenly his eyes darken and his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Heat pools at the pit of your stomach, curling at the edge of your spine, and when you have to squeeze your thighs together, you’re not sure whether you’re trying to stave off your bladder or your arousal. Or both.

You watch as Hotch’s mouth opens, like he’s about to say something, maybe to say that he was just kidding and that you can go to the restroom or another implicit order that would have your knees buckling.

But then Derek’s poking his head through the doorway, eyebrows raised like he knows he’s interrupting something but doesn’t care. “We’re ready to head out whenever you are, Hotch.”

Just like that, Hotch’s face transforms from heated to something more professional, rigid, as if he wasn’t seconds away from pressing you up against the wall. His shoulders tighten, mouth closing and twisting as he trying to formulate a response that didn’t give him away.

“We’ll be right there.”

You deflate a little, arousal still barely humming underneath your skin, as you try to come to terms with the fact that you’re about to barge into an active crime scene with a full bladder.

You two don’t get a chance to talk about it—too caught up in taking down the unsub and then planning who would take charge of the interrogation.

The pressure in your bladder has slightly subsided by the time you had climb into the SUV, adrenaline starting to take over the daze that melts into your brain after you interact with Hotch in that way. He seems to have forgotten as well, based on how engrossed in the road he was while driving.

When you find out that you didn’t have to be involved in the interrogation, you breathe a sigh of relief, muttering a thank fucking god, and then sprint to the restroom.

You’re too busy to notice the curious gaze Hotch wears as he watches you waddle down the hallway.

-

It’s been several weeks and you’ve nearly completely forgotten about the whole incident.

Until now.

The team had just gotten back from dinner after successfully wrapping up another case. Relief at finally catching the unsub and being able to go back home for a much-needed weekend settled satisfyingly into your bones. It was still hot out, humid enough where your hair was starting to cling to the damp skin of your neck, so you didn’t notice how Hotch kept waving his hand for the waiter to refill your glass of water, that bastard.

Not only that, but he was getting handsy—tracing circles on your thigh with his thumb underneath the table and his palm heavy at the small of your back. It was nice, especially since he usually wasn’t a fan of being so touchy around the rest of the team, but it also provided an inkling of what kind of mood he was in.

You weren’t surprised when he pushed you up against the door as soon as it clicked shut, the drowsy farewells of your teammates fading into the background as Hotch kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

His mouth was soft, persistent, as they moved against yours. He takes advantage of the surprised gasp you let out, deepening the kiss further and overwhelming you with the taste of spice from the drink he had at dinner.

He brings an infuriatingly large hand up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your chin up further, while his free hand trailed down your shoulder, down your side, leaving behind trails of heat, until he was grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you further against him.

You felt the line of his hardening cock against your hip, even through the fabric of your dress pants. It had been torture for you to not fuck your incredibly hot boyfriend/boss during a high-strung case, but it seemed like it was affecting him much more than you thought it was.

When he pulls away, your head still cradled in his palm, the wild glint in his eyes has you smirking. Pupils blown wide, a tinge of pink on his cheeks from both arousal and alcohol, and his hair slowly coming loosened from his hair gel and flopping against his forehead in a way that was starting to become strangely endearing to you.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, voice low, and you quickly obey.

The both of you scramble to tear off your clothes, strangely reminiscent of your teenage years, and then you’re crawling back onto the bed with that youthful kind of giddiness warming up your chest.

You sit back on your elbows and watch with bated breath as Aaron tugs off his boxers, his cock already half-hard and slapping against his stomach, before his dark eyes are set on you. He doesn’t say anything as he kneels onto the edge of the bed as his large hands wrap themselves around your ankles to tug you down.

You let out a squeal as he brings your ass to hang over the edge of the mattress before Aaron leans over you to capture your breathless giggles with a kiss. One of his elbows was digging into the sheets next to your head, the other running up your stomach and to your breasts, and your legs hitched up high around his waist. His mouth was hungry, starving, as he delved into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of you.

It would be surprising, especially as Aaron didn’t usually prefer to have sex on cases, but you could tell there was something on his mind as his mouth peppers open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. It’s nearly desperate, the hurried way he was tasting the sweat off your skin and the way he was squeezing your breasts, his thumbs skimming against your nipple and bringing them to stiff peaks.

You let out a breathless sigh, your arms coming to wrap around his broad shoulders and tangling your fingers with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Heat curls at the pit of your stomach, swirling with the beginning pressure of your bladder threatening to cry out at you. You attempt to push it away to the back of your mind to focus on the warm wet mouth gradually drifting down your chest.

“Been thinking about you all day,” Aaron murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your breast before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Someone’s impatient,” you attempt to say cockily, however it comes out strangled, your back arching before you could help it to chase the sharp pleasure as he nips at you, soothing the sensitive bud with a swirl of his tongue.

He pulls away and the cold air of the hotel room brushing against your wet nipple has your hips grinding up against him. The hot weight of his cock presses against your inner thigh, desperately close to where you needed him the most.

“You have no idea,” he says, and then he’s moving to suck your other nipple and give it the same attention as the other.

Even if your relationship was still new, Aaron somehow was able to learn your body better and faster than anyone else you had been with—what made your hips squirm, what made you whine into the open air, or what made you feel so good you made no noise, just letting your jaw drop open in ecstasy. He always took his time with you, and his tendency to focus on your pleasure over yours was a breath of fresh air.

You felt the result of his attentiveness now, wetness nearly dripping from your aching pussy and undoubtedly clinging to Aaron’s lower stomach. The tip of his cock would brush against your core every time you canted your hips up, notching against your entrance, and you hoped that he would hurry up and just fuck you already.

He groans every time his cock brushes against your folds, tempted to just slam himself into you. He pulls away, sitting back on his knees as his fingers trace the soft curves of your stomach, your waist, before dragging his fingertips along the apex of your thighs.

“Sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he coos, briefly dipping his thick fingers between your sopping folds.

You shiver as Aaron makes a show of displaying just how wet you were as he brings his slick fingers up from between your thighs. He separates them, and the both of you watch transfixed as your pearly strings of your arousal clings between them.

“See? She’s practically begging for my cock.”

“Fuck,” you mumble, face growing hot at the filth of his words. He really must be hornier than you thought.

“I have to get her ready first, don’t I?” Aaron says before he’s pushing a thick finger inside of you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, because he’s right, he always needs to get you ready first because his cock was always so thick, always felt like he was splitting you open like the very first time.

He’s gentle, slow, despite the fact that you were so wet and ready for him his finger slid right inside.

“Fuck, Aaron…,” you moan, reaching out for him aimlessly until your hand wraps around his wrist, his hand splayed out on your hip.

And then he’s thrusting his finger in and out of you, just as slow, and the lewd squelching of your wetness fills the hotel room as your mouth drops open, your grip on his wrist tightening.

He wordlessly inserts another finger inside, undeniably stretching you even further. It’s intoxicatingly delicious, the difference, because the pathetic whimpers coming from your mouth grows higher in pitch, your blood nearly singing at the pleasure flooding your veins.

“There she is,” Aaron whispers reverently, voice raspy as his eyes drink in the way your pussy swallows his wide fingers and the sheer bliss on your face as you squeeze your eyes shut.

He starts a steady rhythm then, avoiding your clit and plunging in and out of you in a way that he knew wouldn’t get you to come.

And he’s right, he’s always infuriatingly right, however there’s that pressure in your lower stomach, vastly different from white-hot arousal, that’s slowly starting to make itself known.

You try to ignore it, focusing on the weight of his hand against your hip and the way the filthy noises of your wet pussy filtered through your ears, but it was like the faster Aaron fucked you with his fingers, the more that pressure grew.

He must notice your distracted mind, the uncomfortable scrunch on your face, as he slows his fingers. He doesn’t take them out. “Are you okay?”

You blink your eyes open and is met with genuine concern on his face despite the way his eyes continuously drift down to his fingers and then back up to your face.

“Yeah, I just…” you whisper, throat dry. You clear your throat and shift your hips, unsure if you wanted to meet his fingers or scoot away. You pause, unsure how truthful you wanted to be.

It was a normal bodily function, you think, as normal as breathing. You knew Aaron wouldn’t shy away from something as harmless like a bodily fluid like that. “I just really have to go pee.”

A pause. Something unreadable flashes over his face, but it has a strange thrill running up your spine.

And then, he starts moving his fingers in and out of you, slower, curled enough just slightly that had you gasping and your thighs squeezing together around his wrists.

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Aaron says, voice rough. His brown eyes, usually so pretty and gentle around you, were dark and dangerous. “But do you think you can hold it?”

An incredulous laugh escapes you. It’s breathy, and your eyes are threatening to roll back into your head as he begins to increase his rhythm. The way his thick fingers have curled in on you has him nearly brushing that sweet spot inside of you, but also strangely pressing up on your aching bladder.

You’ve squirted before, when you had forgotten to go to the restroom before having sex, but this was a whole different level. It was nearly uncomfortable, having to clench in an effort to refrain from letting go, and your bladder was fuller than ever.

“I don’t know…” you whisper. “I think I really have to go.”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and leans over to press his lips to your temple. You whimper at the loss, the pressure at the pit of your stomach increasing without the distraction of his fingers.

“You can do it, sweetheart.” And it’s the low tone of his voice and the way his calloused fingers rub over your puffy folds, wetter than you’ve ever been, that has you legitimately thinking maybe you can hold it. “Do you trust me?”

You slowly realize it actually feels good—not only the added pressure mixing with your arousal, but the sudden desperation you feel, panic clawing its way up your throat, and the small comfort Aaron’s thumb rubbing over your hipbone provides. Somehow, the strain of your bladder just enhanced the pleasure. It was sharper, more intense, and made you feel a bit drunk despite only drinking water all night.

And you do trust him, willing to do anything for him, but not only that, you wanted to be good for him too.

You swallow, meet his eyes, and nod.

He releases a harsh breath against the side of your face, as if in relief, as if he was actually worried that you wouldn’t want to keep going with him and continue exploring your sex life that was slowly becoming a little bit out of your comfort zone. When he leans up a little to capture your lips in a kiss, it’s hungry and frenzied.

When he pulls away to sit back on his knees again, wearing a small, wicked smile on his face that sends your heart doing backflips in your chest, he stops holding back.

He drags the pads of his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness and smearing it around your pussy, making a noise at the back of his throat. He briefly nudges against your swollen clit, a teasing touch, and it makes your hips jump and mouth drop open in a sharp gasp. He pushes his fingers into your entrance, two at the same time this time, and even though he was just fucking you with them earlier, you let out a low moan at the delicious stretch and being filled up again.

The slow drag of his fingers inside of your pussy has you feeling dazed, your breath escaping your lungs with each thrust. A light sheen of sweat covered your body despite the increased chill of the hotel room. Your nipples were tight and aching, your hips trembling underneath the firm hold Aaron had on you as he curved his fingers inside of you and reaching all of your sensitive spots. All of it felt good, better than good, like you were drowning in white-hot pleasure that was quickly being coaxed out with each thrust.

Despite it all, you couldn’t focus on your orgasm when your desperation to pee grew higher and higher.

“Aaron…,” you whispered, voice strained. Your breaths were growing heavier, the ache in your bladder growing stronger with each second, with each thrust of Aaron’s thick fingers hooked inside of you. The panic climbing up your throat was starting to make itself known again, anxiety at the possibility of not being able to clench and hold off for much longer.

“Just a little bit more, honey. And then you can let go for me.”

When you blink up at him, you’re shocked to realize that there were desperate tears forming at the corner of your eyes and clinging to your lashes. Your thighs were trembling, squeezing together and trapping Aaron’s wrist.

He makes a disappointed noise, and then separates your thighs with his free hand and spreading you open. He keeps your thighs apart with his forearm, his elbow digging into your thigh and his hand grabbing your other knee. He starts fucking into you faster, the filthy squelching of your soaked pussy filling the room.

You moan unabashedly, eyes fixated on the veins protruding in his forearms and the flex of his biceps as he plunges into you. You’re able to see Aaron’s heavy cock bobbing between his thighs, the tip, flushed a pretty pink, wet and leaking with precum so steadily it made your mouth water.

You feel yourself clenching around him, and usually you would be frantically wishing and begging for him to fuck you with his cock, but now you couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe from the continuous pressure against your fucking bladder.

His hand is a blur between your thighs as he keeps fucking you with his fingers, unwavering in his pace, and your breath stutters, chest growing tight. You squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back against the mattress as he didn’t let up. You could feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm sneaking up your spine, but you didn’t know what would happen if you relaxed and let go.

Before you could even make a decision, you heard rather than felt a gush of liquid coming out of you and the sounds of your pussy getting even wetter. You craned your neck to look down, eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you gasp when you notice actual liquid coming out of you with every thrust of Aaron’s thick fingers and every slap of his palm against your clit.

“There she is,” Aaron growls, gaze fixated on your pussy swallowing up his fingers and the droplets splashing out onto the sheets. “Come on, sweetheart. You can let go.”

You want to argue, tell him that what the fuck do you mean by letting go, but it was as if the more liquid shot out of your pussy, the faster and more intense your orgasm was crawling up your spine. And he doesn’t let up. In fact, it seems like he increases his speed, fucks his fingers into you harder, his palm continuing to slap against your clit, with eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

A sharp gasp wretches out of you, your arm shooting out to grip his forearm he’s still using to separate your thighs, your muscles tensing and your pussy clenching around his fingers as your orgasm slams into you. You’re distantly aware of more liquid gushing out of you, your release painting your thighs, Aaron’s hands, and the hotel bed sheets.

Aaron lets out a long groan, his fingers slowing but still pushing, pressing and curving against your bladder as if to coax everything out of you. He releases his hold on your knee, letting your legs fall apart while he wraps a large hand around his own cock to bring himself off.

It only takes a couple of strokes before he’s cursing under his breath, voice strained, and then you feel the hot ropes of his come painting your inner thighs and on your stomach and pussy, mixing with your release.

The feeling of warmth against your lower stomach has you clenching again, dazed from your orgasm. The ache of your bladder was slightly alleviated, but it still felt horribly urgent.

Just as you were about to sit up to wobble to the restroom, Aaron stops you with a large hand in the middle of your chest. When you peer up at him, blinking through the tears at the corner of your eyes, he’s trying to catch his breath and his hand was still wrapped around his cock to squeeze the last remnants of his orgasm.

“I said you can let go, didn’t I?”

He slowly takes his fingers out of you before he’s pushing that hand on your lower stomach, pressing on your bladder. You jump, weakly grabbing at his wrist, but you’re still exhausted from your orgasm so your words die in your throat as you felt the beginning trickle coming out of you.

Luckily there’s not a lot, still able to hold some semblance of control, but there’s the unmistakable sound of you pissing on your hotel sheets because your boss wanted you to.

Hot embarrassment floods your face, your ears burning and shame making tears spring up again, but Aaron’s there. He’s watching you, arousal and affection swimming in his dark eyes, as he rubs his thumb back and forth against your hipbone. He’s shushing you, praising you and saying what a good job you did for him, and it provides some comfort that gently washes over you.

You can’t deny the relief you feel either, melting with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and when the flow stops, you softly exhale and drop your head back onto the sheets to stare at the ceiling.

You can’t move, don’t even want to move, but Aaron is there again, taking care of you. He tugs at your hips until you’re laying on a dry spot and wipes a warm wet towel over your thighs, your aching pussy, and even your stomach where some droplets of your release landed.

He’s pressed flushed up against you in the next five minutes, your shoulder pressing into his chest and his hand coming up to brush away the hair that had fallen into your face. He noses along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

When you twist your neck to get a good look at him, anxiety prickles at you. You almost expect him to look grossed out, disgusted at you, or even want to break up with you despite this whole thing being his idea.

What you find instead is fondness, as well as concern that he went too far and had made you uncomfortable. His eyebrows are pinched together and he gently cradles your face, his hand smelling like vanilla and lavender. God, you love him.

You lick your lips, still catching your breath, and then you say “It’s your turn next time.”

taglist <3 I AM SO SORRY IF THIS IS NOT SOMETHING UR INTO @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon @khxna @ssa-writerminds 

[yougavememyopia]

You guys won't believe the amount of times I rewrote the plot for this... Tags: Handjob, nipple play, basically him receiving, small self-harm threats in his narrative, mommy kink~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Crybaby yandere who had a hard time stopping the tears—blinking through his blurry vision to make out the television screen. Failing to distract his mind from its sad thoughts. Pushing the jealousy away over and over again to no result.

He embraced the plushy cushion tight, resting his head on another. The fabric dampened from the salty crystals falling from his eyes. What went wrong with him? Why did he have to be this way? So unbelievably pathetic. It made his head painfully heavy.

He decided to try and think gratefully—you wouldn't want him to be sad this whole time. Even if you were taking an awful amount of time to get back... (He gave up on calculating the minutes due to his hatred for math.)

His teardrops felt lighter, his shoulders releasing their tension as he let out an exhale. His nose sniffed the sweet smell of your shirt hugging his body. A smile making its way on his face as he looked away from the nature documentary to a photo of you. Hearts in his half-lidded eyes while he mumbled your name with a sigh. He couldn't wait until you got back home. 

As soon as you turned the knob—before you could even set a foot in—he jumped into your arms. Weakly squeezing your torso, and moaning about how he was literally dying without you. Stumbling over his words of how he was going INSANE without you. Rubbing his face against your chest like a dumb little thing, not one single thought in his brain other than needing to be with you. 

“Awww, I missed you too, baby. I hope you weren't too bored. Mwah!”

He let out a loud, suggestive sound, getting dizzy from just a kiss on his head. Your affectionate voice was the best thing he had ever heard in his life. The sweet nickname rolling of your tongue making his stomach flip and twist in all the nicest ways possible.

"I, uh, put something to watch and e-entertained myself... I- Is that okay?"

You smiled with knitted brows, the word 'entertained' had a secret double meaning that he didn't know you were aware of. He was slowly coming out of his insecure shell, you didn't want to embarrass him by how you watched him hump your pillow and cream his pants. "Sure... Yeah. Why wouldn't it be? As long as you're happy, I'm happy..."

He was so lucky to have you. So unaware of how deep his obsession with you was. Did you really think you could hang out with other people when you were dating someone like him? Touching and laughing and looking at other people that weren't him. He may not be able to hurt others, but didn't you know he could be dangerous to himself? You haven't seen how unstable and artful he could get. Didn't you know better than to leave him by himself without baby-proofing the house?

“Ow, ow...! Tight. Can you let go, hon?”

You could barely move with how his hold got tighter and tighter until his grip suffocated you. Your weak, frail boyfriend hurting you was something that never crossed your mind. Hand clenching around the bag of sweets you forgot to mention to him. He obediently stepped back after you spoke. Hands digging into the baggy pyjamas pants he stole from your closet.

You laughed when he cried happy tears about the candy when he looked inside it. Popping one of the strawberry ones into his mouth. He looked like a wreck. Bangs covering his puffy eyes, his fluffy hair sticking in various directions. Nothing unusual when his pondering left him a red nose and chapped lips. He looked at you with a fervent need in his eyes, wanting to feel you, opening his mouth only to close it again. Muttering "please" and showing you one of his cutest pouts. 

Grabbing your boyfriend, you pressed him against the entrance door. The bag dropping from his hand when you suddenly kissed him. He immediately turned flustered, red-faced at how you put your arms around him. You would feel pretty silly if it wasn't for how he melted like the candy in his mouth. His hands clutching your shirt and opening his mouth wider to share the taste of strawberry.

He offered his neck to you as you pulled away, tilting his head to the side, begging you over and over to mark him up—show that you own him. He wanted to feel some sort of possessiveness after being away from you for sososo long. Why couldn't you be crazy over him? Lock him up in your shared room and just make out with him until he fainted?

He moaned loudly in response to your bites. Whimpering with every lick and tugging down his shirt to give you more space to mark, exposing his collarbone and his shoulders for more. Sniffles making its way to his speech as he began to cry. Hands intertwining with yours in between your beating hearts—heat warming up his icy fingers.

“C-can we continue this in the b-bedroom? Mmm?” He hiccuped, hands still gripping yours lovingly. You pecked his lips and pulled his dizzy body with you.

You finally convince him with honeyed words to take his pants off. Lots and lots of reassurance, convincing, and kisses—until it finally worked. Greedy with praises he loved to hear so much, he felt safe enough to undress to his boxers. Leaning his back into your chest and sighing into your arms happily. His crimson face hidden from your view. The way your breath brushed his ear gave him chills.

Your fingers stroked his bare chest for a bit—loving the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips—before you went lower to the waistband of his shorts. “Um… H-hold on. I want you, um, to touch me, I really do but… hic!” Soft tears fell from his lashes. His shaky hand brought the blanket over to his bulged lower half. Still covering himself when he said he wouldn’t. Still hiding away from you when you sought him. 

“You're awfully self-conscious.” You finish the sentence for him, noticing how uneasy he looked. Guilt swimming in his gaze while he chewed on his lip. Sure, ‘guilt’. He acted as if he had no idea how he did to you. Teasing you unfairly—when you knew he could be shameless all alone. But you decided to play his game. “Well, how about a compromise? I'll touch you while you're under the sheets.”

He hummed in thought. Shifting his eyes to the ground like this was a hard decision for him. Sniffing and mumbling a meek, “Mm, okay.” 

His legs spread wide as took off his boxers. Down where you couldn't see, your imagination pulling you to curious places. It took a lot of patience being with him. Maybe he was pushing you to the edge on purpose, until you snapped and used him to your liking. 

“Y-you can go ahead now… Hic… I'm ready. Haa… Be gentle please.” 

Your hands landed on his waist, slowly and slowly making their way up instead of down. You knew him pleading with you to be gentle meant he was already close, but you weren't going to give him that satisfaction after how bad he had been acting. After all the time you spent trying to get him to open up.

“W-what are you doing?” he squeaked. Goosebumps irritating the skin of his tense stomach as your fingers touched under his shirt. You kept your tone calm, a complete contrast to his shaky moans. “Just touching you. You wanted me to touch you, right?”

A loud cry escaped his throat when your fingers circled around his nipples. The contact immediately making them harden under your touch. He dragged out a whine while you tugged and twisted them. "Please— F-f-fuck~ P-please don't tug so hard! Mmgh! J-just.. Hahh.. Don't t-tug it at all!" 

“How long are you gonna keep me away?” You questioned. New teardrops penetrated his eyes and blurred his vision. Not like he could keep his eyes open anyway. Furrowing his brows and holding onto the bedsheets. Your touches were never harsh—but its pleasure was so overwhelming, it hurt. “How long until you finally start being honest?”

"I d-don't know what you're saying…! Mmm, no… no… Fuck! I d-don't know... please! Please. Please. Pleeeeease!"

You finally stop pulling his poor nipples, soothing them by rubbing circles. "I want to get to know you more. You barely open up about… your preferences." You breathed a tired sigh. Letting your hands drop to your thighs. "I don't want to pressure you or anything. I'm sorry. We can stop."

He panicked, "no, no, no... Please don't- Don't apologize...! I love you, hic, I love you so much! I never meant to make you upset, hic! Please don't be upset with me... I'll get over my fear. I'll do anything! Hic, please..."

Putting your hands back on his body, he threw the blanket away in a swift motion. Not even hesitating this time. He was unexpectedly big. His long throbbing cock coated in hot precum. It was... a really arousing sight. (Guess you should play with his nipples more). You thought that he was scared because of not being enough, yet surely that couldn't possibly be true.

It felt most times you didn't know him—who he truly is. What questionable tactics he will use get you to stay. A sort of long term play you didn't quite understand used to influence you. But... you couldn't bring yourself to care at this moment.

"W-what? You've gone all quiet." You swore you heard a bit of smugness in his tone when he whispered in your ear. His head leaned back on your shoulder while he breathed your name in a groan. Your fingers grazing his thighs as he continued to grab you. Rubbing circles around your wrist while he placed both of your hands around his member. "Please... I'm so close, mommy..."

"Ah?" You gasped when you felt the sticky substance pouring out of him. The heat burning your palm while you slowly stroked him up and down. Trying to get used to the feeling of him.

"Why didn't you stay after you caught me moaning your name, mommy? Why didn't you just fuck me?" He whined sadly. A droplet of tear falling on your arm, his crying beginning again. "Your poor babyboy was so frustrated. Mm, why couldn't you ditch your stupid friends...? Hngh, leaving me all alone..."

You swallowed. Eyes mesmerizing by the way his hips moved to chase release, how you tightened your grip around his flesh without intention, how he kept going after shooting out thick ropes of come—painting your hands and the sheets white.

"Fuuck, I need more... s-so much more... hic! Mommy, please, pretty please! Nngh... Your panties in my pocket are not enough anymore. Hic... I need more... More! Pleaaaaase..."

Your lips were captured by his in a kiss. His whimper vibrating from his mouth to yours, drool and spit exchanged between you. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he continued overstimulating himself. Hungry for more toe-curling orgasms from you.

"Oh, my baby... Of course I'll give you more."

He sobbed while you kissed his wet eyes, finally snapping out of your trance. Your finger stroking the veins on his fat twitching cock, thumb rubbing the red tip, smearing it with more gooey liquids. It was fascinating how more kept coming. You sucked on his earlobe while you picked up your pace.

Maybe you should've questioned what happened more—like how he suddenly broke into your home and started living with you—yet it felt like nothing mattered other than him feeling amazing. With the way he kept moaning out "Ah, fuck mommy! Please, don't stop," you were prepared to go at it all night.

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do. 

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other. 

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m  gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls. 

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off. 

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side. 

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows. 

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old. 

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs. 

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say. 

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums. 

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head. 

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly. 

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm. 

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs. 

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly. 

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you. 

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things. 

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years. 

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to. 

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought. 

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way. 

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook. 

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more. 

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that. 

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him. 

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more. 

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men. 

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be. 

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan. 

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive. 

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here. 

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time. 

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back. 

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then. 

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him. 

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place. 

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now. 

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now. 

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath. 

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited. 

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective. 

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads. 

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too. 

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed. 

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch. 

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too. 

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus. 

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed. 

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months. 

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too. 

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul. 

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too. 

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it. 

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear. 

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks. 

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence. 

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing. 

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé. 

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says. 

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation. 

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now. 

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie. 

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows. 

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you. 

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t. 

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies. 

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue. 

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat. 

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing. 

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about. 

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling. 

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout. 

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point  in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it. 

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are. 

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa. 

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends. 

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance. 

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you. 

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again. 

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time. 

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t. 

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters. 

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him. 

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out. 

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else. 

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you. 

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away. 

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment. 

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear. 

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you. 

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.” 

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it. 

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him. 

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express. 

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep. 

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away. 

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday. 

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance. 

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them. 

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile. 

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs. 

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks. 

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out. 

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving. 

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons. 

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you. 

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs. 

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this. 

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists. 

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains. 

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts. 

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it. 

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves. 

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask. 

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle. 

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push. 

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all. 

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her. 

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together. 

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be. 

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot. 

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is. 

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other. 

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night. 

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place. 

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies. 

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead. 

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying. 

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug. 

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same. 

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty. 

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him. 

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says. 

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects. 

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns. 

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves. 

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes. 

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts. 

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it. 

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back. 

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence. 

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown. 

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him. 

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much. 

But Jungkook’s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process. 

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face. 

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you. 

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again. 

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start. 

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too. 

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough. 

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble. 

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there. 

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly. 

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly. 

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him. 

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you. 

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider. 

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more. 

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt. 

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say. 

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?” 

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow. 

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now. 

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?” 

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold. 

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now. 

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth. 

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able. 

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you. 

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise.��

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response. 

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have. 

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you. 

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time. 

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom. 

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement. 

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now. 

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have. 

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again. 

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims. 

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out. 

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks. 

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same. 

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up. 

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you. 

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner. 

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day. 

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around. 

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul. 

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound. 

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired. 

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs. 

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him. 

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word. 

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond. 

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues. 

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him. 

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth. 

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles. 

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something. 

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on. 

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever. 

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say. 

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him. 

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off. 

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people. 

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him. 

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds. 

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus. 

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise. 

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you. 

And it’s his own promise he makes.

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[hoshifighting]

Stripper! Reader x Business Man! Lee Chan

— Synopsis: Workaholic Lee Chan's Friday night takes an unexpected turn when he joins friends at a strip club, only to find himself captivated by you, a dancer he can't seem to stay away from. Despite his reservations, Chan finds himself drawn to your company, booking time with you night after night. — WC: 8.8k — WARNINGS: Strangers to lovers, smut, mentions of alcohol, strip clubs, money throwing, booking, fluff, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, g'spot stimulation, clit stimulation, male sensitivity.

Lee Chan held the weight of being the CEO of the imperium that his dad left at a very young age. Frat parties, hanging out, late-night talks? Nah, not for him. He had to take care of the company and honor the inheritance that fell into his lap. His co-workers could remember very well the times that Chan walked around and around his office, shoulders tense as if he carried the world on them.

His days started early and ended late, filled with back-to-back meetings, strategy sessions, and endless paperwork. The once carefree and spirited young man had transformed into a focused and driven leader, his every move calculated to ensure the success and stability of the company.

Chan's office was a testament to his dedication—shelves lined with business books, awards, and framed photos of his father, a constant reminder of the legacy he was determined to uphold. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, but Chan rarely had time to enjoy it. He was always too engrossed in his work, too preoccupied with the responsibilities that consumed his every waking moment.

Even though his life felt like being stuck in traffic on a rainy day, Chan couldn't deny that he loved the results of his hard work. He looked at the luxurious cars parked in his garage—sleek, powerful machines that represented the pinnacle of automotive engineering. 

His closet was a veritable treasure trove of sartorial excellence. Different types of watches, ties, suits, and shoes from every high-end brand imaginable filled the space, each piece carefully chosen to reflect his impeccable taste and status. The feel of finely crafted leather shoes, the weight of a bespoke suit on his shoulders, the precision of an intricate timepiece on his wrist—all these were constant reminders of what he had achieved.

Chan's wealth allowed him to indulge in the kind of extravagances most people could only dream of. He could spend an exaggerated amount of money in a matter of seconds on something completely futile, like a super shaver with a gold coating—exotic and utterly unnecessary.

The week was ending, and Chan listened to the fuss inside his friend group about hanging out this Friday. Jeonghan, seeing his colleagues leaving their desks, noticed Chan still at his desk, tapping his fingers on the glass table. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Jeonghan approached him.

"I know it's a stupid question, but will you come with us?" he asked. Chan was usually seen only at corporate events. Jeonghan couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a beer with his friend.

Chan looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, the automatic refusal ready on his tongue, but something made him pause. He glanced around the office, now emptying out as people headed off to start their weekends. The thought of another solitary night of work made him feel a twinge of longing for something different.

"Come on, man," Jeonghan urged, sensing the hesitation. "Just one night. It’ll be fun. You need a break."

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jeonghan was right. The constant grind was wearing him down, and maybe, just maybe, a night out with friends was exactly what he needed.

"Alright," Chan finally said, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll come."

Jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Chan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah, let's do it."

Jeonghan grinned, clapping him on the back. "That's the spirit! You won't regret it."

Before they left the building, Chan paused and asked, "Jeonghan?"

"Yes?" Jeonghan answered, turning to face him.

"Where are we going?" Chan inquired, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Jeonghan just smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll see," he said, leaving Chan to wonder what the night had in store for him.

[...]

"A strip club? You must be kidding me!" Chan exclaimed as he took in the sight of the half-dark establishment. Neon lights flickered and danced around the room, casting colorful glows on the walls. Music blasted from speakers, filling the air with a pulsating beat.

He could see several women with different curves, colors, and hairstyles, dressed in scanty outfits—or sometimes nothing at all. The atmosphere was electric, a stark contrast to the corporate environment he was used to.

Jeonghan laughed, clapping Chan on the back. "Come on, man, loosen up! It's just for fun."

Chan hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. He felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. "I don't know, Jeonghan..."

"Relax," Jeonghan said, guiding him further inside. "We all need a break sometimes. Just enjoy the night. You deserve it."

Chan took a deep breath, deciding to go along with it. Maybe Jeonghan was right—maybe he did need this. As they found a spot to sit, Chan tried to shake off his reservations.

His friends immediately ordered bottles and bottles of soju, beer, whiskey—whatever the bar had. Chan downed his whiskey in a single gulp, exclaiming, "If my dad knew I was here..."

Chan's eyes widened in surprise. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Jeonghan replied, pouring more whiskey into Chan's glass. "He said every hardworking man deserves a break. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

Chan couldn't help but laugh at that. The thought of his father, the man he idolized for his strict work ethic, letting loose in a place like this was almost too surreal. 

As some of his friends disappeared one by one, Chan found himself alone on the couch they had booked. "Great," he muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of discomfort at being left alone in such a place.

Just as he was about to sink further into the cushions, the little stage that he hadn't even noticed until now suddenly lit up. A tall pole stood in the middle, and Chan tilted his head in curiosity.

Then, a pair of really, really high heels appeared, and Chan's throat went dry. You emerged onto the stage, your skin shining under the purple light. The outfit you wore was scandalous, barely covering anything, and Chan couldn't help but notice the little glitters spread on your skin, catching the light as you moved.

You took hold of the pole and began to dance around it, moving with a grace and confidence that left Chan mesmerized. Your movements were fluid and controlled, every sway of your hips and arch of your back drawing him in deeper. It was as if you were performing just for him, and Chan felt like he could get lost in the rhythm of your dance forever.

As you held yourself up on the pole like a pro, Chan couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being swallowed by the couch, completely captivated by the sight before him. In that moment, nothing else mattered but you and the hypnotic spell you cast over him with your dance.

As you made eye contact with Chan, a devilish smile played on your lips. He looked like a new piece of meat, a pretty young man who had never been seen before in the club. You got down from the stage, the sway of your hips drawing all eyes to you as you walked towards him.

"First time here, sweetie?" you asked, laying your hands on his shoulders. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe with the view of your tits practically in his face.

"My eyes are up here," you said, chuckling as you caught him ogling your chest.

Chan blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, tearing his gaze away from your cleavage. "First time."

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you leaned in closer. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to show you the ropes," you said, your voice low and sultry.

"You're tense," you observe, noticing the stiffness in Chan's shoulders. Without waiting for a response, you step behind him and begin to massage his shoulders, your fingers working their magic as you knead the tension away.

Chan lets out a sigh of relief, his muscles melting under your skilled touch. "Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "Work's been... stressful lately."

You nod in understanding, continuing to work out the knots in his shoulders. "I get it," you say, your voice soothing. "But you're here now, and tonight is all about letting go of that stress and just enjoying yourself."

Chan leans back into your touch, closing his eyes as he relaxes into the sensation. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You smile too, glad to see him starting to unwind. "That's better," you say, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his skin. "Just focus on the here and now. Forget about everything else for a while."

Chan nods.

You walk around Chan again, swaying your hips seductively in front of him. His mind races, unsure of what to do next, but before he can even think, you're sitting on his lap, circling your hips against his.

Chan smiles shyly, feeling the heat from your body as you move against him. He can't help but notice the money tucked into the sides of your little shorts, a reminder of where he is and what's expected of him.

It's exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, but there's something undeniably thrilling about having you so close, your body pressed against his.

As you continue to dance, Chan's hands hover uncertainly over your hips, unsure of where to touch or how to respond. He feels a flush of embarrassment at his own inexperience, but he's determined not to let it show. Instead, he focuses on the way your body moves against his.

And you smile knowingly, sensing his hesitation, and guide his hands to your waist, encouraging him.

Chan's hands move from your waist to your hips and then down to your thigh, his fingers grazing the soft skin as he explores the contours of your body. His pulse quickens as he feels the warmth of your thigh pressed against his pocket, and he can't resist the urge to reach into his wallet and retrieve a pouch of money.

With a mischievous grin, Chan brings his hand to the top of your head, letting the notes rain down on you like confetti. You laugh, delighted by the unexpected gesture, and give him a big smile.

"What's your name?" you ask, your voice playful.

"Chan," he replies, feeling a surge of confidence.

You lick your lips, your gaze lingering on his. "Nice to meet you, Channie," you purr, the nickname, and Chan blushes. 

[...]

The next Monday, Chan sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. His mind raced with a million thoughts, his thoughts still consumed by the events of that night. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying every moment, every touch, every glance.

A knock on his door startled him out of his trance, and he quickly tried to compose himself, pretending to be engrossed in some papers spread out on his desk.

"Come in," Chan called, his voice slightly shaky.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped inside, giving Chan a knowing smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Chan felt a flush of embarrassment heat his cheeks. "Oh, hey Jeonghan," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Jeonghan chuckled, walking over to Chan's desk and leaning against it casually. "So, how was your night?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a suitable response. "Um, it was... interesting," he finally managed, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Interesting, huh?" he said, his tone teasing. "Well, if you ever need any pointers on how to navigate the world of strip clubs, you know who to ask."

Chan's cheeks burned even hotter, and he couldn't help but laugh at Jeonghan's playful teasing. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass," he said, relieved to have the topic of conversation shifted away from his night of unexpected adventure.

Chan spent the entire weekend consumed by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memories of your encounter at the club. As Monday rolled around, he found himself itching to see you again, the usual routine of work feeling dull and uninspired.

Deciding that today was not the day for extra hours at the office, Chan made his way to the club, a sense of anticipation building in his chest. He arrived at the club, his eyes scanning the room eagerly in search of you.

As he looked around, a receptionist approached him, sensing his lost expression. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite and friendly.

Chan nodded, grateful for the assistance. "Yes, I'm looking for a girl with hair like this," he said, mimicking the length and curl of your hair with his hands.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you must be looking for Y/N," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Follow me, I'll take you to her."

There you were, dancing around the pole with a big smile on your face, as if you were truly enjoying every second of it. Chan watched from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a big smile on his face as he observed you.

The club was crowded, with many people gathered around you, admiring your performance. Chan felt a pang of jealousy as he watched others vying for your attention, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

As the night wore on and people began to leave, Chan noticed you finally catching sight of him. Your eyes met his, and you gave him a playful wink, rolling your hips as you glanced at him over your shoulder.

Chan's heart skipped a beat at your playful gesture, and he couldn't help but grin back at you. Despite the crowd around you, it felt like you were dancing just for him, and in that moment, Chan felt a surge of warmth and connection unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

As you took a break from dancing, you bent down to pick up some notes from the stage floor. Before you could gather them all, Chan approached, leaning on the stage with a playful grin.

"Leave it on the ground," he said, extending a big wad of money towards you. "Take it."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I didn't even have time for you today," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Did I ask?" Chan replied, his smile widening. "Take it."

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful response, taking the money from his hand. "You liked me that much, huh?" you asked, knowing full well the answer. You were well aware of the power you held.

"Hmm, I think I need to see more," Chan teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You giggled, enjoying the banter between you. "Well, if you want me all to yourself, you'll have to book," you replied with a playful wink.

Chan's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Can I book all of your agenda?" he asked eagerly.

You stood up, giving him a coy smile. "Don't be greedy, Channie," you teased, enjoying the way he looked at you with eager anticipation.

You glanced down at the wad of money in your hand, barely able to fit into your shorts, and then looked back up at Chan with a playful smile.

"Well, I think I can spare some time for you," you said, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But just a little while."

Chan's face lit up with excitement as he nodded eagerly. "That's all I need," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

[...]

As Chan began appearing almost every day, he became a familiar face at the club, a quiet yet eager client of yours. The receptionist would often give you a knowing look, silently conveying that Chan had arrived and had booked time with you once again.

Of course, there were other loyal clients who frequented the club, but none seemed to hold the same level of fascination for you as Chan did. There was a certain shine in his eyes whenever he entered the club, a distinct aura of anticipation and eagerness that set him apart from the other customers.

You couldn't help but wonder why you had let him know about the option to book time with you. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you with such genuine interest and excitement, or maybe it was the thrill of having someone so captivated by your presence. Whatever the reason, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, eager to see where each encounter would lead.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of surprise when Chan didn't show up for his usual visit. It was as if a small piece of the excitement and anticipation that had become a part of your routine was suddenly missing. Without even realizing it, you found yourself scanning the crowd, searching for his familiar face.

Then, just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you spotted him entering the club. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him make his way to his special seat, right in front of you. His genuine smile lit up his face, and you couldn't help but smile back, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a wave.

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, you danced with even more passion and heart than before. You knew that Chan was watching, appreciating every move, every moment. 

Over the following weeks, Chan's visits became a cherished routine. Each time he arrived, you could sense the anticipation in his eyes, the unspoken hope that maybe tonight would be different.

One evening, as you were finishing your performance and making your way to his table, he finally mustered the courage to ask. "Hey, would you like to grab a drink with me sometime? Outside of here, I mean," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth and a hint of nervousness.

You smiled softly, appreciating his boldness but knowing you had to set boundaries. "I'm flattered, Chan, but I don't hang out with customers outside of work," you replied, your tone gentle yet firm.

A few nights later, he tried again, this time with a different approach. "There's this amazing new restaurant that just opened up downtown. I'd love to take you there," he offered, his eyes hopeful.

You shook your head slightly, maintaining your friendly demeanor. "I appreciate the invite, but I have a policy about not mixing my work life with my personal life," you explained, hoping he would understand.

Undeterred, Chan continued to ask, each time finding new ways to express his interest. "There's a gallery opening this weekend. I thought it might be fun to check it out together," he suggested one night, his enthusiasm palpable.

Once again, you gently declined. "That sounds lovely, but I really can't. I have to keep things professional with my clients," you said, feeling a pang of regret at having to turn him down yet again.

Each time he asked, you could see the slight disappointment in his eyes, but he always respected your boundaries. And despite your refusals, he never stopped coming back, never stopped watching you with that same genuine admiration and respect.

Tonight, you made sure every detail was perfect. Your hair cascaded in flawless waves, and you wore your best outfit, accentuating every curve just right. You were eager to dance for Chan, feeling a flutter of excitement as you anticipated his arrival. Sure enough, Chan appeared, booking the rest of the night with you as he had been doing lately.

When he approached, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, a small gesture that had become part of your interactions. "Hey, Channie," you said with a playful smile. "So, what’s it gonna be tonight? Shorts or no shorts?"

Chan smiled warmly, a bit of that usual nervous energy in his eyes. "Actually," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I just want to talk tonight. I want to spend time with you."

You blinked, taken aback. No customer had ever asked for just your company before. "You... you just want to talk?" you repeated, making sure you heard him right.

He nodded, a sincere expression on his face. "Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love watching you dance. But tonight, I just want to get to know you better. You know, beyond all this," he gestured vaguely around the club.

Still processing his request, you motioned to the couch. "Alright, let's sit then." You both settled onto the plush seats, the atmosphere suddenly feeling more intimate and less transactional.

"So, what do you want to know?" you asked, trying to mask your nervousness with a casual tone.

Chan leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "Everything. What's your favorite color? What's your dream vacation? What do you do when you're not here?" He paused, then added with a chuckle, "I know it sounds silly, but I really want to know the real you."

You smiled, touched by his genuine curiosity. "Well, my favorite color is …" you began, feeling a bit shy. "As for a dream vacation, I've always wanted to visit Santorini. The pictures look so beautiful, like a place out of a fairytale."

Chan listened intently, his focus unwavering. "Santorini sounds amazing. I can picture you there."

You chuckled, the image of you in Santorini bringing a warm feeling to your chest. "And when I'm not here, I love to paint. It's my way of unwinding, letting my creativity flow."

His eyes lit up. "Painting? That's incredible. What kind of things do you paint?"

You shrugged lightly, feeling more comfortable as the conversation flowed. "Mostly landscapes and abstract pieces. It's like putting a piece of my soul onto the canvas."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, both of you absorbing the depth of the conversation. Chan finally broke it, his voice soft. "You know, I've always admired how dedicated you are to what you do, I know it's now easy at all. But hearing about your passions and dreams, it makes me admire you even more."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you found yourself opening up more than you had with anyone in a long time. "Thank you, Chan. It means a lot to hear that."

He reached out, gently squeezing your hand. "Thank you for sharing with me. I know this isn’t what you usually do, but it means a lot to me."

Chan observed the small figurine on the table, curiosity lighting up his eyes. “Where do you get these?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

You smiled, a bit shyly. “I make them myself,” you said, enjoying the surprise that flickered across his face.

“Really? That’s amazing,” he praised, his admiration evident. You shrugged modestly.

“It’s not that hard,” you replied, still smiling. “They’re always small.”

Chan chuckled, a warm sound that made you feel even more at ease. He started to remove his blazer, and before you knew it, he placed it gently around your shoulders, covering a good part of you. The gesture was so kind and considerate that it made you feel even more comfortable, despite usually feeling at ease in your usual skimpy outfits.

As you nestled into the blazer, you couldn’t help but notice how much more at ease you felt. Chan’s presence was different; it wasn’t just about the physical attraction or the lavish spending. There was a gentleness, a genuine care that made you feel safe and valued.

“I don’t usually do this,” you admitted, looking at him with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes soft. “It’s my pleasure. You deserve to feel comfortable.”

The conversation flowed easily as Chan began to share bits and pieces of his life. He spoke about his responsibilities as CEO, the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy, and the sacrifices he had to make. His words were carefully chosen, mindful of not coming across as boastful despite his affluent lifestyle. You could tell he was trying to be as honest as possible while downplaying the extravagance.

“And that’s pretty much my life,” Chan concluded with a slight sigh. “It’s demanding, but it’s what I have to do.”

You admired his humility, realizing how grounded he remained despite his wealth. “It sounds like a lot to handle,” you said softly, your eyes reflecting your newfound respect for him. “But you do it so well. It’s impressive.”

Chan’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and weariness in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but I try.”

“You’re more than just a pretty boy,” you teased lightly, wanting to lift the mood. “You’re a hardworking, humble man.”

He laughed, the sound filling the space between you with warmth. “And you’re not just a beautiful dancer. You’re talented and creative.”

[...]

The next morning, you were chatting with the girls—your coworkers—as they finished their hair for the night.

“And he just wanted to talk,” you said, a bit incredulously. “He even asked about my favorite color.”

The girls collectively let out a heartfelt “Awww,” their eyes wide with interest and affection.

“Seriously?” one of them, Mina, asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That’s so sweet.”

“He seems different,” another added, giggling.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still a bit surprised yourself. “We just talked. It was...nice.”

Before the conversation could continue, the receptionist entered the room, a knowing smile on her face. “Ya! Y/N-nie! Your Channie is here,” she announced, her tone teasing.

It was unusual for any customer to visit on a Saturday morning, a time usually reserved for the staff to unwind and prepare for the week ahead. 

“It’s Saturday morning,” Mina whispered, nudging you playfully. “No customers come in unless they lost something.”

“Let him in,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual but feeling the flutter of anticipation.

As Chan walked in, he was met with a scene unlike the usual vibrant atmosphere of the club. The girls were dressed in comfortable clothes, some with bobs in their hair, others doing their nails or simply lounging around.

You were drying a glass behind the bar. He looked around, slightly surprised but smiling.

“Good morning, girls,” he greeted, his voice cheerful. "Good morning Y/N…" He says in a special and tender tone, just for you.

“Good morning,” the girls chimed back in unison, their eyes following his every move.

You put down the glass and walked over to him, a wide smile on your face. “Channie, what are you doing here?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied, his gaze soft and sincere. He seemed a bit out of place in the relaxed environment, but his presence was a welcome one. You could feel the girls watching the exchange with rapt attention, like they were watching an opera unfold.

Chan noticed that you didn’t have bobs in your hair like some of the other girls. Gesturing toward your hair, he asked, “No bobs for you today?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s my day off. I’m not dancing today.”

The girls exchanged knowing looks, some stifling giggles. One of them, Lisa, leaned over and whispered loudly enough for you to hear, “Looks like someone’s here to see you even when you’re not performing.”

You blushed, glancing at Chan, who seemed equally flustered but amused by the comment. He recovered quickly, his smile returning.

Chan stood there, his eyes filled with hope and a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to spend the day with me?" he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye. "Hmm, I've already told you about hanging out with my customers," you teased, enjoying the banter.

Before Chan could respond, Mina chimed in from the background, her voice filled with encouragement. "Oh, come on! You should accept it!"

Chan seized the opportunity, smiling wider. "You’re not on your work schedule now, are you?"

That shut your mouth, leaving you momentarily speechless. The girls burst into giggles, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Well, when you put it that way…” you trailed off, pretending to think it over.

Chan’s smile grew, sensing victory. “So, is that a yes?”

You sighed theatrically, then grinned. “Fine, you win. I’ll spend the day with you.”

“Great!” Chan said, visibly relieved and excited. “I promise it’ll be fun.”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Let me just finish up here, and we can go.”

As you gathered your things, the girls couldn’t resist a few more teasing comments, but it was all in good fun, as Chan waited patiently.

As the day unfolded, Chan took you to places you hadn't had the time to visit in years. You sipped coffee at a cozy café, strolled through the park, and even caught a movie at the cinema. With each passing moment, you found yourself enjoying his company more and more, feeling a sense of freedom and joy you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"This has been the best day off ever," you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you walked side by side with Chan.

His heart swelled with happiness at your words, his smile growing wider. He could have taken you to a luxurious restaurant or shopping for designer labels, but he sensed that wasn't what you wanted. Instead, he decided to let you choose how to spend the rest of the day.

Careful to open doors for you and ensure your comfort, Chan drove you around in his luxurious car, enjoying each other's company and the simplicity of the moment. As he glanced at you from the driver's seat, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

"Where to next?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

You playfully pretended to ponder your options, teasing him about having more surprises up his sleeve. Chan laughed, shrugging his shoulders as he drove. You noticed that you were nearing your apartment, and the idea popped into your head.

"How about we go to my place?" you suggested, surprising even yourself with the invitation.

Chan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Your place? Are you sure?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of excitement building in your chest. "Yeah, why not? I'd love for you to see where I live."

Chan couldn't hide his delight at your invitation, his curiosity piqued. He parked the car and walked with you to your apartment building, taking in the surroundings with interest.

Chan's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the details of your life that adorned the walls. He saw framed photographs capturing cherished memories – graduations, family gatherings, outings with friends. The images painted a picture of a life rich in experiences and relationships.

His gaze shifted to the plushies scattered across the couch, a playful and endearing touch that brought a smile to his face. It was clear to him that you had a warmth and sweetness that extended beyond the confines of the club where he first met you.

As you disappeared into the kitchen, Chan took a moment to soak in the atmosphere of your home. The tranquility of the space, combined with the personal touches that reflected your personality, made him feel strangely at ease.

In that moment, he realized that he was seeing a side of you that few others had the privilege of witnessing – the real you, beyond the glamorous facade of the club.

As you settled back onto the couch with snacks in hand, Chan joined you, his presence filling the space with warmth. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he began recounting his visit to the strip club earlier that day.

You listened intently, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he shared the details of his adventure. When he mentioned Jeonghan's involvement, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards your friend for unknowingly setting this day in motion.

"Looks like I owe Jeonghan a big thank you," you said, your voice muffled as you took a bite of your snack. 

Chan raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, Jeonghan is the reason we met, huh?" he teased, leaning closer to you.

You chuckled, feeling a playful energy between you. "Looks like it," you replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Chan's teasing grin widened at your response, and he leaned in closer, his playful demeanor evident. "Oh, so you're thanking Jeonghan, but not me?" he teased, raising an eyebrow in mock indignation.

With a soft smile, you turned to Chan, gratitude evident in your eyes. "Thank you, Channie," you said, your voice sincere as you expressed your appreciation.

Chan returned your smile, his gaze warm as he listened to your words. "For what?" he asked, though he already had a feeling of what you meant.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. "For everything," you began, your tone heartfelt. "For the moments we've shared, the conversations we've had... Even on the nights you booked me, we talked more than danced," you admitted, a fondness evident in your voice.

Chan's smile widened at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm just a talkative guy," he joked, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

Chan's touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze lingering on your lips with a mixture of hesitation and longing. You could feel the tension building between you, an unspoken desire hanging in the air.

When he spoke your name, you couldn't help but respond with a soft sound of acknowledgment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. His next words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice barely above a whisper as he confessed his thoughts.

"I know it's not allowed to kiss the dancers in the club," he began, his words laden with a sense of urgency, "but... we're not in the club right?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. In that moment, the boundaries that had separated you in the club seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, alone in the intimacy of your shared space.

You met Chan's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you considered his words. Despite the rules and restrictions that governed your interactions in the club, here, in this moment, you felt a freedom that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

With a hesitant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, "No, we're not in the club." And in that simple acknowledgment, you gave voice to the unspoken truth that had been lingering between you all along.

Chan's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips crashed into yours. His tongue explored your mouth with a fervent passion, and you found yourself breathing hard, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt to deepen the kiss.

The truth was, the more you refused Chan's invitations to dinner, the more you denied the gifts he insisted on giving you, the more you avoided his attempts to kiss you—his feelings for you only grew stronger. And now, seeing his insistence on simply having your company, and not just as the girl who would entertain him at night, made you feel all your girlhood feelings again.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you looked into his eyes, your breath mingling with his. "Chan..." you whispered "Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep trying so hard?"

He held your gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and tenderness. "Because you matter to me, Y/N. More than just a dancer, more than just a pretty face. I see you, the real you, and I want to know you better."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a rush of warmth and affection for this man who saw beyond the surface. "But I'm not used to this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not used to someone caring this much."

Chan's grip on your neck tightened slightly, a comforting reassurance. "Then let me show you how it feels. Let me show you that you deserve to be cared for, to be cherished."

"Show me," you whisper, your eyes locked on Chan's lips. He captures your mouth in a passionate kiss, his lips trailing down to your neck. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he pulls it over your head. You pull him closer, desperate to feel him, your hands sliding under his shirt to caress his warm skin.

His hands slide to your thighs, lifting you onto his lap, your breasts now level with his face. He glances at the pretty lace bra you’re wearing and lowers the cups, exposing your nipples. He kisses each one tenderly before sucking on one and pinching the other. You melt into him, your hips grinding against his automatically, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

"Do you know how hard it was to control myself when you grinded on my cock like this?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

A wicked smile crosses your lips as you continue to grind against him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. "I could feel it, Chan," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "I could feel how much you wanted me. I wanted you just as badly."

His hands tighten on your hips, guiding your movements as he presses you harder against him. "God, Y/N, you drive me crazy," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust.

You lean in, your breath hot against his ear. "I want to feel you inside me, Chan. I want you to lose control. Show me how much you want me."

His control snaps, and he flips you onto your back, his body pressing you into the couch. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," he growls, his hand sliding down to unbutton your pants.

"I know exactly what I want," you whisper back, your eyes burning with the same desire. "I want you, all of you."

Chan's lips crash into yours again, more fiercely this time, as his hands work to remove the rest of your clothing.

In a blur of movement, clothes are discarded, and his skin is pressed against yours. He pauses to look into your eyes. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need.

"I want you, Chan," you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. 

Chan giggles softly, his breath hot against your skin. "Wait for me to prepare you," he whispers, his voice laced with anticipation. He opens your legs wide, his eyes dark with desire as he lowers himself between your thighs. His lips find your wet folds, kissing them gently before his tongue delves deeper.

The sensation sends shivers through your body, and you let out a soft moan. Chan's mouth works expertly, sucking on your clit while his tongue teases and explores. As you gasp his name, "Channie," he responds with a moan of his own, the vibrations adding to your pleasure.

His hand slides up your thigh, and you feel the gentle pressure of his finger at your entrance. He slips it inside you slowly, his finger curling to find that perfect spot. Your back arches off the couch, your hands gripping the cushions as he continues to worship your body with his mouth and fingers.

"Oh, Chan," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. The way his tongue moves, the way his finger pumps in and out of you—it's all too much. Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking more of the intense pleasure he's giving you.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently, and your moans grow louder. His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

Chan's free hand comes up to hold your hip, steadying you as you writhe beneath him. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust and admiration, and the sight of him between your legs pushes you closer to the edge.

"Channie, I’m so close," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers moving faster, his mouth more insistent on your clit. The world fades away, and all you can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

With a final, deep moan, you come undone. Your body trembles, your muscles clench around his fingers, and a powerful wave of ecstasy crashes over you. Chan doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent, every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

Finally, he pulls away, his fingers and mouth glistening with your arousal. He looks up at you with a triumphant smile, his own need evident in his eyes. "You taste so good," he murmurs, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a heated kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only fuels the fire between you.

"Now," he says, positioning himself at your entrance, "I think you're ready."

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, and with one smooth thrust, he fills you completely. 

Your pussy was wet enough, spasming, welcoming him perfectly. Chan's eyes were closed, his face contorting as he tried to compose himself. You reached up and gently held his face, and he opened his eyes, scoffing softly, trying to pretend he didn't almost cum right then and there from the sensation of your sopping cunt wrapping so perfectly around him and the pornographic moan that just left your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good."

You smiled, your own arousal mirrored in his gaze. "Don't hold back, Channie," you whispered, your fingers brushing through his hair. "I want all of you."

He groaned, his hips starting to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him with each thrust. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, the connection between you deepening with every movement.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his hands gripping your hips as he picked up the pace. "So perfect for me."

You bit your lip, your body responding to his every word, his every touch. "Chan," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Don't stop."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rolled his hips, stopping momentarily before hitting your g'spot with a sharp thrust. He repeated this motion, each thrust more deliberate, and the most sinful moans left your mouth. "Yes, Channie," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure, "fuck this pussy with that big fucking cock. Yes, yes!"

Chan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, spurred on by your words. "You like that? Hm?" he panted, his pace quickening as he watched the ecstasy play out on your face. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, yes, I love it. I love how you fuck me– ah! Channie."

"So wet... all for me."

Your body arched beneath him, your hips moving to meet his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building to an overwhelming peak. "Only for you," you whispered, your voice breaking with a whimper as he drove you closer to the edge. "No one else, just you, Channie."

He growled, the possessiveness in your words igniting something primal in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Say it again," he demanded, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours, Channie, only yours."

His hips snapped forward with even more intensity, and you could feel the coil tightening in your core, ready to snap. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice a low growl. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

Your pussy throbbed as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, your eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open in a silent scream. You wrapped your legs around Chan's waist, locking him in place as you rode out every wave of pleasure. Chan hissed, his abdomen trembling, signaling that he was on the brink of release but unable to escape your grip.

You opened your eyes to find Chan watching you intently, taking in every reaction. "Sit," you commanded, your voice breathless yet authoritative.

"Hm?" Chan responded, his expression a mix of curiosity and lingering pleasure.

"Sit," you repeated, firmer this time. He complied, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Are you going to dom me?" he teased, scoffing lightly.

Instead of answering, you simply lowered yourself onto his cock, making him flinch and let out a whiny moan in your ear, your legs trembling from the intensity of your recent orgasm.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips. 

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "You like that, Channie? You like when I take control?"

"Yes," he gasped, his breath hitching as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly at first. "God, yes."

You smirked, picking up the pace, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through both of you. "You look so good like this," you whispered, your voice low and sultry. "So desperate, so needy. You want to cum, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whimper. "Please, let me cum."

You tightened your grip on his shoulders, riding him harder. "Not yet," you commanded, enjoying the power you held over him. "Not until I say so."

Chan's eyes fluttered closed, his body trembling as he tried to hold back. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I can't... I can't hold on much longer."

"Look at me," you ordered, your tone firm. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "You’re going to cum when I tell you to, understand?"

"Yes," he panted, nodding eagerly. "Yes, I understand."

You imagined riding him since the moment he entered that club, young, hot, with his sleeves rolled up, the scent of masculine fragrance mingling with whiskey on his breath. Feeling this man, needy and sly, with his cock buried deep inside your pussy, spilling all that pre-cum, and fighting his demons not to cum, made you so horny.

 You licked your fingers, circling your clit to help yourself climax, making you clench around him again. A strangled moan escaped his mouth, his eyes were rolling back.

You leaned in close, your voice husky with desire. "You're so close, Channie," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I can feel how badly you want to cum inside me. Do it, baby. Give it to me. Fill me up with your cum."

Chan's hips bucked against yours, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I need to cum, please..."

You smirked, your fingers still working furiously on your clit. "You want to empty those balls for me, make me feel every drop of your cum inside me? Hm?"

Chan nodded frantically, his eyes glazed with lust. "Yes, god, yes. Please, let me cum. I can't hold on much longer."

With a wicked grin, you increased the pressure on your clit, feeling the tension building inside you. "Then cum for me, Channie," you urged, your voice a sultry whisper. "Cum deep inside my pussy."

Chan's entire body tensed, his breath hitching as he finally let go, his cum flooding you with warmth. You cried out in pleasure, feeling your own orgasm crashing over you in waves as you rode out the ecstasy together.

As you collapsed against his chest, Chan wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel your legs trembling in soreness, his cum still dripping from your pussy, and both of your bodies slick with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, Chan's embrace felt comforting and secure.

He ran his hands soothingly over your back, his touch gentle yet firm, as if trying to convey all his affection through his fingertips. You raised your head to meet his gaze, finding him looking back at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness in his eyes.

You pressed a series of soft kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. Chan smiled in response, his own lips curved upwards in a contented –fucked out– expression.

You summoned the last vestiges of your strength just to tease Chan, circling your hips ever so slightly, just enough to elicit a reaction from his sensitive body. 

"Wait, wait," Chan gasped, his voice strained with sensitivity. "I can't... I can't take it."

He held you firmly against him, his grip almost desperate as he tried to steady himself. The sensation of your hips circling against his heightened his arousal to a point where he felt like he might lose control at any moment.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Despite the exhaustion and the intensity of your encounter, you found his vulnerability endearing.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his labored breaths. "I couldn't resist teasing you a little."

Chan let out a breathless laugh, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to regain his composure. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're... you're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I don't know how you do it."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. Despite the intense physical connection between you, there was an undeniable emotional bond that had formed, deepening your connection even further.

"I guess I just have a way with you," you replied playfully, winking at him before snuggling closer into his embrace.

[venmondiese]

ONE MISSING POINT

-ˋˏ| summary: Failing the class just for one point, and you ask Michael Gavey his help to pass the exam. Tutoring isn't his strenght, neither is yours.

✧ | Pairing: Michael Gavey x reader

✧ | word count: 2.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, public masturbation (m receiving), humilliation, Michael is a virgin and he doesn't last long.

It was practically a tradition that Mr. Bynes posted the results of the class in the (most important) headboard in the whole university, and people practically crowded around the single paper sheet searching for their grades and to see if they were at risk of failing the course entirely. If so, they had to do the mandatory exam which was by no means friendly. 

He isn’t as worried as people around him, trying to make his way in the crowd to see the paper. He had to awkwardly pass through some people crying over it before he could see the paper. 

He approved it all. He expected it, of course, since he always participated and was one of the few who understood something the professor said. Sure, he didn’t have straight 100%, but nothing lower than 80%, which was really good upon seeing some people had more than one 0. 

It was a relief, but again, expected. He shrugs and goes on with his life as he walks away, thinking of going to his dorm and annotating his grades to later on calculate his final average score. 

“Michael! Michael Gavey” a voice calls him, as he sets his feet on the grass. He turns around, seeing you walking closer to him, as quickly as you could. 

“Ehm… yes” he says, awkwardly, looking at you. 

You shared calculus and some other classes, and you were good. Not bright, exceptional or anything, but good. And you were so much better at other things, more social and bold things he doesn’t dare to do. 

“Hi… how did you do?” You ask, slightly out of breath as you try to be polite. 

“Ehm… fine, I guess” he doesn’t get why you talk to him now.

“You passed?” You ask tentatively. “I… I saw your grades, and it was awesome, really impressive…” You hesitate before adding “I am sorry, I know… it’s weird, but… You were like one of the few people who actually passed.”

Michael shrugs. as he nods. “I guess so.”

“And you see…” You say taking his arm to interlock it with hers, as you and your friends did when walking together. It was so womanly, he felt weird. Or maybe everyone did it and he didn’t know…? “I had good grades, I did well in that essay that everyone hated… But I had one test in which I got 40%, because I transferred badly one of the gross numbers, and before you ask, I did calculate it… But since I transferred it wrong, the final value was wrong”

“Ah…” he says, not sure what to say “That sucks”

It didn’t suck. To him, it was like a stupid mistake easily avoidable. 

“Well, I was one point away from pass the course, and I explained this to the professor but… didn’t listen, you know him, he said that one point is missing, so I have to give the exam, and I need like 20%, but still..., and now I desperately come to you to beg you to please help me and tutor me” she says, as she turns to look at him. 

He blinks. He didn’t do tutorings on his free time. He did them for extra money, for credits or whatever reason. 

“Please Mikey!” You say, grabbing his hands. “Please please please, I only needed one more point to pass the class, I know about the subject, and it was a silly mistake. You don't even have to teach me from zero, only... go over the things we studied and that... please!”

He isn’t willing to do this. He doesn’t want to do this, yet he is weak. After all, he is a man. And he isn’t blind, you are pretty. Like out-of-his-league pretty. And you are prettier closer.

“Fine…”

You lean to kiss his cheek with a smile, and you nod. “It’s a date then. Tomorrow in the library? Could it be at four?”

He blinks a few times, trying to process the whole thing. He was supposed to finish the semester quickly, and… now he is caught up trying to teach you so you don’t fail a course, all because his mind betrays him. 

So, he tries to do the whole ordeal as smoothly and quickly as possible. He doesn’t want to do this but whatever. At least you are not dumb on the matter, you know something. He has heard some of the answers you give in the classes, and they weren’t as bad as one would hope. 

He’s sitting at one of the study desks, right beside a large shelf, and the library was with a few other students, concentrated in their own thing. He brought his notes with him, even if it was illegible. He tries not to be impatient, as he checks the clock on his wrist. 

“Sorry for being late, I– I got caught in something and…” You say, and you were breathing a bit heavily. 

“No big deal…” he stutters, as his gaze darts down to your blouse. Logically, since summer was getting closer and closer, you wouldn’t be wearing a sweater, but he didn’t expect… Well, he didn’t know what he expected. 

Why was he being so weak around you?

“Sit, I have my notes to show you…” He says, and so you take a seat by his side as you curiously lean to check his notes. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he was very neat in his handwriting, even if they looked like the handwriting of someone in the 1700s.

You are not such a bad learner, and he was rather enjoying teaching you after some time. You actually heard him, as he explained in depth how to have the correct answer for all, as he tries to address everything.  You asked good questions, and pointed at the mistakes he had given you, to see if you could identify them in an exercise. 

As close as you were, Michael could smell how your perfume was nice. It smelled sweet, but not so much that he would like to throw up. Besides, everytime you stared at him, he could feel a bit uneasy, since he got a bit nervous. Your gaze was deep, and he didn’t know what it meant. 

Clearing his throat, he writes a new problem for you to solve. He had done a lot when studying, so he copied one of his. He hopes that focusing on the study will help him to distract himself from the weird feelings around you. 

“Here, try this one” he says, handing the notebook to you. It is complex, but doable. 

He manages to explain really well, as he gets into the theme and all. You do the work, and slide it over for him to check it. 

“You have a girlfriend, Mikey?” You ask softly. 

He looks at you, before turning back to check the answer. “Eh… no” he mutters, trying not to be ashamed. 

You were actually great, you are very tidy when unfolding the exercise and actually took in his advice, he can see it. Yet, you make the same mistake, you took the gross value as the final one. 

He made a circle, and he was ready to explain. 

“He-Oh” he gasps, feeling your hand on his thigh. He was frozen. 

Maybe it fell onto it. Maybe it was by mistake, it was surely by mistake, there was no way it was intentional. And surely it was a mistake how you caressed his inner thigh so… slowly. 

“Oh, did I get it wrong?” You ask, looking at him as if you didn’t have your hand at his thigh.  

He felt his head doing a short circuit, as if trying to understand what this meant. Was he imagining things? He surely must be. 

“Y-Yes, here… here you took the gross value…” he mutters pathetically, he was confused, he didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t complaining, at all, but what does that mean?

What did it mean that you had your hand on his thigh? Surely, it was something… reasonable. 

“I’ll re-do it” you say, taking the notebook. And you didn’t take your hand away. 

He was frozen. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be helping you with your studies, not... not whatever this is. And yet, his body is betraying him, his skin tingling under your touch, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. 

He grips on the edge of the table, looking at the ceiling of the library. Suddenly, he is very aware of his surroundings, looking around as if everyone knew that your hand was sliding up as you did the exercise. Women surely can multitask…

“Eh, well, now… we can use the formula… you-you know it” he says, his throat feeling dry as he tries not to whimper. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like the rosary.” You say with a confident nod.

“Yeah… so, what’s the next step?” He prompts you, as your hand is higher and higher, and he is starting to lose his mind. 

“Replace the values, a… with this, and b…” your hand brushes higher and he lets out a little whimper, thinking you were about to stroke his cock… yet it doesn’t happen. It’s a pathetic sound he emits, and he gets red after it. “With this…”

He sees you replace the values, rewriting the formula, ready to be used.

“Right?” You ask, with one of your sweet smiles as if you didn’t know what was happening. 

“Eh, yeah… yeah, that…” he says, trying not to sound that pleased, even if he starts to feel the arousal pool on his stomach.

He starts to feel himself straining against his pants. It was painfully arousing, and he tried to play it cool. He didn’t want for you to notice, as you caressed his inner thigh.

“I… I need a break” he says suddenly, looking at you. 

You look at him a bit pouty even, as he grips on the edge of the seat trying to breathe in and breathe out. “But I am learning” you say to him “I really am”

You were driving him insane. He didn’t even know if he should address the elephant in the room. Maybe he’ll say something about it, and you’ll stop, be disgusted and leave. 

But he tries to keep inside his whimpers, since the library was the worst place ever to do this. Everyone quiet and it’s open for anyone to see. 

“I think… I..” He hesitates, falling to being able to finish a sentence. He moans softly, feeling your hand brush against his notorious erection, and he can’t bear it anymore. “Ah, please…” 

Michael was blushing, embarrassed of it all as he tries not to move his hips to follow the touch of your hand, since it isn’t where he really needs. How could he be so weak? His cock wasn’t even being touched now, but he felt so dizzy already. Maybe it was because, okay, he had never been with anyone else, but it was… embarrassingly little time to be so… needy. 

When he feels your hand on the tent of his pants, he whimpers, the sound too loud and filthy that his left hand goes instantly to his mouth, covering it to mute himself before he does another embarrassing thing that gives them away. 

“Y-You.. You have to stop” Michael murmurs, the words muffled against his palm as he looks at you, glasses sliding through his nose slightly. He was so flustered, he looked cute. 

“Why?” You ask in a pout, not wanting to. 

“I can’t– I need…” He tries to say, to make a coherent thought as your hand moves to follow the shape of his erection. It sends shivers on his spine and he practically melts on the seat as his eyes are rolled back in pleasure. How could it feel so good? “I… I… We can’t…”

He seems so confused with his own thoughts. “We can…” You murmur, looking around as nobody was actually watching them. “If you really want me to stop… I’ll stop”

Michael doesn’t want you to stop. He really didn’t. But he didn’t want to get caught, it would be embarrassing. 

“We are in public” he says, his eyes searching yours. 

“Yes, I know” you say, not stopping the strokes on his cock above his clothes “But look at how much you like it” 

He’s already made a small, wet patch at the front of his pants. Oh, god, he thinks. He looked away, it felt embarrassing, his face feeling hotter as embarrassment creeped into his gut alongside pleasure. 

He liked it, but he was trembling with a mixture of emotions, and he didn’t know what to think. He was so close too…

“Please…” He begs senselessly, he doesn’t even know why he is begging. “I don’t wanna make a mess…”

Your hand touches him with the clothes in between, but the fabric of his light brown pants was thin, and it felt almost delicious. He would hump your hand if you two weren’t in a library. 

“You are making a mess…” You coax him softly, as he tenses his shoulder and falls slightly against yours, as his body was trembling with arousal. 

“I don’t wanna stain my pants” He murmurs embarrassed, in a little voice as he feels his balls tighten up as your hand insists on the head of his cock, stroking it through the fabric.

“It’s hot” you murmur back to him, and your hand is on the wet patch “And when you cum, I’ll feel it here”

He can’t form a proper sentence as he feels you hand caressing his dick, he felt the wetness on the tip of his cock, and even if it was so unlike him, he found himself so aroused. He is on the verge of cumming on his pants, just from the touch of a woman. Damn, you aren’t even touching his cock directly. 

He felt like a teen, needy and so hormonal. He wasn’t like this fromages ago, and he finds himself leaning on you, his forehead against your shoulder as he whimpers softly, his hips searching your touch as he is close. 

The thought of cumming in his pants, making a mess was both humiliating and arousing, as his body tense with each stroke. “I can't… i… I'm going to…” 

His hand goes to cover his own mouth as he reaches his peak, a strangled moan coming from his throat and his hand muffles the whimpers he lets out. He can feel his cock spurting cum into his underwear and trousers. He doesn’t want to call attention, but he cums so hard, his body basically slumps back in his seat as he feels his balls tighten with each rope of cum that his cock leaks. 

You are awfully quiet afterwards, moving your hand away as you clean it and he tries to gain his breath, feeling dizzy already and so pleased. He wants to hide his face in shame, and the other wants to beg you to do it again. 

“I’m sorry” he murmurs.

“Don’t be” you whisper back to him, looking at his wet spot on his crotch. “To me, it was amazing. You definitely made one of my fantasies come true”

He blushes, he feels very self conscious all of the sudden, and he makes sure no one in the library paid attention to them and what they were doing. He moves slightly as if trying to cover up the wet patch on his jeans. 

“You enjoyed it?” You ask him, not pushing him too hard.

“Yeah…” He admits, slightly embarrassed but also very much pleased. 

You look at the forgotten notebooks, and then to him, as he accommodates on the seat and moves his hair slightly as if that would make him go unnoticed by everyone else.

“If it is worth anything, your tutoring did help me tons” you say, taking your notebooks together to save them in your pack. 

He is glad that he could help. Maybe this was your way of repaying? He couldn’t know or decipher it. He takes his things and saves them up in his bag as well. He wanted to go to his dorm and take a shower, and put on pajamas and think about this. 

“I’m not great with words…” He starts, his tone hesitant but trying to overcome it. “But… Thank you. I really… Hm. It was cool”

You smirk, nodding slightly as you appreciate his words. 

“A bit riské” you tease him playfully.

“Yeah…” he chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I am a mess”

As he adjust the glasses on his nose, you hum, “Well, nobody really cares but you and me”

“I can’t believe we did… that… in here…” He mumbles, dumb founded. “And I was… so… I completely lost it…”

“Do girls usually make you… lose it?” you ask in a whisper. “Or do you last longer, and I happen to have magical hands?”

He blushes to the blunt question, looking anywhere but to your face as he avoids answering. “Well, um…” he doesn’t want to admit his lack of any experiences with girls “Girls don’t…. touch me like that” he says in a whisper. “So I can’t say…”

You didn’t judge, looking at him, and you nodded.

“Well, next time we’ll see”

Next time. He looks at you with eyes slightly wide, as he tries not to stutter his words. “Next time?”

“Obviously” You say smiling to him. “If I pass the exam, we are doing it without the pants” You say smugly “And… more”

He was so lucky you missed one point to pass the course. 

[formulafanfics13]

could you write Ollie Bearman dating physics student!reader please and thank you. 🐻❤️

gravity - OB87

Masterlist

summary: Ollie Bearman is fast, famous, and stupidly hot — and you’re just a university physics student trying to mind your business. He falls first. You fall harder. And suddenly, theoretical forces have nothing on the way he looks at you.

warnings: fluff, university AU, nerd x athlete dynamic, very soft smut (oral f receiving), protective Ollie, awkward academic environments, Ollie being a lovesick fool, clever/introverted reader, mention of anxiety, established relationship vibes

You meet him in the worst possible way. You're in the library, hunched over your thermodynamics notes, wearing joggers, a hoodie three sizes too big, and exactly zero percent of your usual social skills. You’re also muttering to yourself like a lunatic, trying to reverse-engineer a problem about entropy gradients when someone taps your shoulder.

You look up. And it’s him. Ollie Bearman.

Formula 1 driver. Walking meme. Public heartthrob. And apparently, a confused boy holding a Mechanics for Engineers textbook. “Sorry,” he says, voice low and very real. “Are you the physics girl?”

You blink. “The... what?”

“You helped my mate Alex in week two,” he explains. “Said you were some kind of quantum genius.”

“Alex cried during quantum.”

“Still passed.”

You sigh. “What’s the problem?”

He grins. “I need help understanding how the fuck potential energy is real.”

You groan. “It’s stored energy.”

“But it’s not doing anything.”

“It could do something.”

“So it’s imaginary.”

You grab his textbook. “Sit down.”

It doesn’t take long for everyone on campus to know. That you’re dating. That he’s obsessed. That the golden boy of motorsport is 100 percent, violently in love with the quiet girl who once submitted a complaint because a tutor misused the term ‘net force’ in a lecture.

At first, it’s awkward. He’s all media and adrenaline and fast cars and sprint races. You’re all caffeine and brain fog and equations and fuck, is this due today?

But Ollie slots into your life like he was born for it.

He walks you to class. Carries your backpack. Sleeps over and sets alarms for you. Sits in the back of the lecture hall and waits while you ask the prof things like “why didn’t you account for relativistic momentum?”

Your classmates are stunned. Your professors are quietly impressed. And the internet?

The internet loses its mind.

“HOW DID A FORMULA ONE DRIVER FALL FOR A GIRL WHO OWNS THREE CALCULATORS” “ollie bearman and his hot genius girlfriend” “you’re telling me the grid’s future champion is dating an undergrad???”

Ollie just laughs.

He loves it. Loves how different you are. How smart. How fucking sure of everything you say. Even when you doubt yourself, you never stop pushing.

He tells everyone who’ll listen, “She’s smarter than all of us put together.

Your anxiety gets bad around exam season. You stop eating properly. Sleep like shit. Spiral over problems you already know how to solve. You start thinking Ollie might get bored. That he should be with someone who isn’t too stressed to shower. Someone who belongs in his world.

He notices immediately. One night, after your last physics review, you crawl into bed and collapse face-first into the pillow.

Ollie watches you for a long moment. Then he says, “Do you know what I love about gravity?”

You groan. “What.”

“No matter how far I go, it always pulls me back to you.”

You turn your head. “That’s not even how it works.”

“It is in my version.”

You laugh, cracked and tired. And then he crawls over you, lifts the hem of your shirt, and kisses your inner thighs like worship. Like proof.

You pass every exam.

Ollie shows up to your results presentation in full Ferrari gear, holding a bouquet of wildflowers and yelling “THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” across the lawn.

You flush. He kisses you anyway.

[heesngirl]

Synopsis : Your idea of playing with a flavored lube didn't turn out as you had hoped, but it's not like you can complain about the result either.

Heeseung x f. reader. vers! Heeseung 'nd vers! reader, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f. Receives), squirt, cum, fuck panties, grinding, size kink, edging (a little), jerk off, lube, not p in v. "It's just a sex shot" MNDI

Count : 6k 

The wet sound of tongues intertwined and lips sucking each other filled the living room like an intimate and decadent echo. One click after another, interspersed with gasps, ragged breaths, and muffled moans that are lost in the midst of the relentless kiss. His tongue invades your mouth brazenly, firm and possessive, as if he wanted to fuse with you from the inside out. He moves with experience, claiming space, territory, and control.

And you give it him all.

You were back pressed against the sofa, arms stretched upward, trapped by a single one of his large, firm hands. His fingers encircled your wrists, harmless, but also unprepared. You could resist if you wanted to, but there's no intention of doing so. That difference in strength, that asymmetry between his proportions and yours, ignites you like a match on the verge of burning out. The way he immobilizes you so easily, effortlessly, without haste, leaves you breathless.

His other hand had slipped under your shirt and was now covering one of your breasts, kneading it with warm, demanding fingers. His thumb plays with your nipple in circular motions, tracing caresses that started out gentle but grew more intense, more provocative. He twists it with the same precision with which his tongue tangles with yours. There's no space between kisses for oxygen or questions, only desire turned into heat, into wetness, into the delicious pressure that builds between your legs and compels you to rub them together without thinking.

You drown in him. In how he dominates you without pressure, how he holds you without yielding, how he barely bites your lower lip before continuing to devour your mouth. And then, suddenly, he pulls away. You're both panting. Your chest heaving, your eyes shining, your lips moist and parted. He, leaning over you, with that crooked smile that isn't mockery, but adoration tainted with desire. Without letting go of your wrists, he barely lowers his face and places a fleeting kiss on the tip of your nose. The unexpected tenderness makes you smile with a certain flirtatiousness, just as he murmurs, huskily, against your skin:

"It's time to pamper my little princess." A wide, perfectly toothy smile accompanies his words.

Your smile widens, knowing full well what those words mean on his lips, what kind of pampering he has in mind. There's no hesitation, no dissimulation. Only desire, clear and vibrant.

Then, without hesitation, he takes you in his arms. Literally. He carries you bridal style as if you weigh nothing, as if you were made to be carried that way. And you are. At least, in his arms, you seem that way. Your legs dangle over one side of his arm, your torso tucked against his chest. His perfume, mixed with the light heat of arousal, envelops you completely.

He moves toward the room with slow, sure steps. The entire atmosphere seems to revolve around that moment alone. The door opens with a soft creak, and as soon as he crosses the threshold, he places you on the bed with a calculated movement, as if the mattress were some kind of altar where he will worship you. He leans over you, his body suspended, his eyes scanning you with that gaze that undresses you faster than his hands. He kisses you again, this time briefly, but full of meaning, as if to say "I'll be back," even though he's never left.

His fingers find the hem of your shirt and slowly lift it, enjoying the journey, until he's completely removed it. The cooler air of the room brushes your skin, as it does your exposed breasts. Your chest and abdomen tense with each exhalation. He contemplates the image for a second longer, and then leans in, without words or warnings. He kisses one of your breasts with devotion, his warm tongue licking with sweeping movements until he reaches the nipple, which he sucks eagerly. He sucks, nibbles lightly, and you let out a muffled, involuntary moan from deep within. The way he alternates between both peaks, focused only on you, makes you arch your back, seeking more, slowly losing control.

Then his mouth descends. A line of slow kisses marks the descent down your torso, your abdomen shuddering under the moist heat of his tongue, beneath the teeth that gently scrape your sensitive skin. He reaches the hem of your shorts, and barely raises his face.

"Lift your hips a little, my darling" he whispers, his voice thicker and lower, as his fingers hook into the waistband of the garment, preparing to descend.

You obey without thinking, and he removes them without difficulty, leaving your body exposed, vulnerable, dressed only in panties that already show the moisture that had been accumulating and oozing from your pussy for some time. He looks at you without a single ounce of shame, his lips curling into a smile, his face forming an expression somewhere between dirty and delighted.

"Just look at you. What a fucking tempting beauty," he says in a murmur that's more for him than for you, while licking his lips, as if he's in front of a delicacy.

He lowers himself to the floor, resting on his knees, while his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with undeniable firmness, and then pulls you towards him, leaving you at the edge of the mattress, right where he needs you. Then he leans down, bringing his face closer, but not directly to your center. Not yet, at first glance, he just inhales deeply; your scent seems to intoxicate him.

"You always smell so good, you have no idea how much you scent do to me," he mumbles, his breath caressing your sensitive, covered center, that part of you already throbbing with desperation.

He starts at the edges. On the inside of your thighs. His tongue wanders, warm and shameless, leaving wet trails that cool in the air. He nibbles, sucks, and marks, leaving traces of his presence imprinted on your skin. He doesn't rush the process, and you don't ask him to either. Because, even if he takes your time, you know what's coming. Because he always delivers, always gives you everything and more.

And then, he begins to kiss you there, right on the fabric, slowly but firmly. His thumb presses against your clit, through the wet lace, while simultaneously his tongue moves against you, further soaking what's already wet, and you can barely contain the moan that escapes you. Your pussy burning with need, literally, before he'd even touched you without the barrier in between.

You feel his slimy muscle run over every inch of wet fabric as if it were a piece of candy he refuses to let go of, pressing firmly, sliding from bottom to top, with obsessive slowness. The wet friction draws a guttural moan from you, while your body responds with subtle spasms and a constant wave of heat that builds from your belly to between your legs. Your hips arch instinctively, seeking more, silently begging for that tongue that seems to worship every drop that seeps through your panties, now completely soaked with your juices and his saliva.

Heeseung sucks brazenly, letting his mouth sink against the soaked material, his breath burning against your skin, and his large hands holding you wide open, his fingers gripping your thighs as if his life depended on holding you like this, vulnerable and offered only to him. The heat of his mouth, the wet sound of his tongue working on you, and the pressure of his fingers digging into your flesh combine to an almost unbearable level of intensity. You moan and curse between stifled gasps, feeling the nerves in your pussy throb violently under the constant friction. He doesn't stop; rather, he sinks in, satiated. He devours you through the fabric, as if he doesn't need to see or directly touch your skin to make you burn from the inside out.

"Hee... stop... wait a second..." your voice trembles, husky with pleasure, barely recognizable. Your hands search for him, gently stroking his hair, until he stops, a little disoriented, his lips still glistening with moisture, his brow barely furrowed at the sudden interruption.

You sit up slowly, still trembling, and get out of bed without another word. He stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you, his jaw clenched, his breathing still heavy, as if every muscle in his body still needs you to calm him. His eyes follow you as you approach the nightstand, open one of the drawers with determined fingers, and take out a small clear bottle. He recognizes it immediately; it was lube. He doesn't say anything, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him: he was intrigued, perhaps even fascinated. Knowing full well that whatever comes from you always exceeds all expectations, and he loves that mind of yours that moves so freely through the dirty, the intimate, the visceral.

You return with a tense, almost provocative calm, sitting back on the edge of the mattress, legs slightly open, and with slow movements, you uncork the bottle. Heeseung watches you as if you were a spectacle made just for him. His cock throbs hard beneath his pants, needy, almost aching from wanting you so much. Then, unhurriedly, you let the thick liquid fall onto your already wet panties, in a generous trickle that runs down the fabric and ends up dripping down your inner thighs.

The air in the room thickens. The scent of the lubricant mixes with your smell, and he notices it. He unconsciously licks his lips, while you spread the gel with your fingers, covering the area well, spreading it without reservation, making the fabric stick so tightly to your sex that it almost feels like a shiny, glistening second skin.

Heeseung's eyes widen, his chest rising and falling in hectic waves. He looks at you as if he can't believe what he's seeing, and without thinking, he leans toward you, driven by the desire to bury his face between your legs again, to smell, to taste, to lose himself.

But this time you stop him. Your hand caresses his cheek gently and firmly at the same time, guiding him to a stop. Your voice comes out low, controlled, but charged with intent:

"It's not for that..." you whisper, your eyes fixed on his as you slowly lower your gaze to his sweatpants, noticing his marked and evident erection. "I want you to rub your cock against my covered pussy. Like this. Like you always do before you put it in me. I want to feel it drag against me, so wet, hot, and slippery."

The throb pounding between your legs mingles with his wide-eyed gaze, completely disarmed by the proposal. He swallows, still not responding, but something in his body activates. A tug of pure need runs down his spine. He leans forward, placing himself between your open legs, and his hand goes straight to his pants, untying them with tense fingers, almost urgently, but without breaking contact with your eyes until he's completely off.

He understands perfectly; you feel it. The dense electricity, the moment suspended just before the touch. You know what's coming and you want it just as much as he does.

Without hesitation, Heeseung takes his cock in one hand, firm, hot, throbbing, so hard it seems to throb in his palm. He rests it against your mons pubis, immediately feeling the thick stickiness of the lubricant on the fabric. He moans very softly, barely a guttural growl escaping through his teeth as he curses at how incredible the first contact feels, so simple yet so scorching.

"Fuck..." he whispers, his voice thick with desire, as if he can't contain it, as if that single touch is about to break him.

But he doesn't launch himself yet, doesn't give in to the urgency. Instead, he leans over you with that restrained, dominant air that makes your heart race, and with both hands, he gently pushes you by the shoulders, guiding you back. You don't resist completely, but you don't give in completely either. You lean back halfway, resting your elbows on the mattress, in a comfortable but firm position, keeping your gaze connected with his, like a silent challenge between two equally intense fires.

You stay like that, watching each other, your breathing heavy and ragged with excitement. Your eyes shine mischievously and his burn, somewhere between a contained desire and something bordering on pure fascination. He knows he can't predict you, knows that your every move takes him to the limit.

"Definitely..." he begins in a deep voice, scanning you as if he can't believe what's before him. "You know how to destroy the little remains of my damn sanity. You exceed every damn expectation, and that's no surprise."

You answer him without looking away, with a slow, self-assured smile that turns him on even more. A smile not meant to please him, but to remind him who's in control when it comes down to it.

“And we’re not even remotely close to finishing the repertoire, baby. You’re barely scratching the surface of all the dirty fantasies running through my head,” you say, your tone thick with intent and sweet danger.

His expression changes. The corner of his lips curves into a smile, a sly gesture that mixes amusement, disbelief, and a hint of absolute surrender. He doesn’t answer you; he doesn’t need to. Instead of words, he lets his actions speak for him. His hand slowly rises to encircle your throat, with measured force, just enough to make you feel his dominance without stealing your breath. Then, without warning, he traps you in a brutal kiss. He crashes his mouth against yours with a fierce, almost violent intensity, kissing you as if he needs to possess you, as if your taste is the only thing that can calm him. And you, without thinking, give yourself over completely, letting him devour you. Your lips surrender as soon as his tongue bursts forth, subduing you eagerly, determinedly, forcing you to keep up with his rhythm.

You moan against his mouth as his other hand moves, moving down to grasp the base of his cock, hot and firm, gently stroking it before sliding it between your vaginal lips, covered by the soaked fabric. The contact is stimulating; the glans slides directly over your clitoris, trapped between the pressure of his hardness and the thick moisture of the lubricant, which makes it slide easily, causing a delicious, wet, and hot friction. Each movement is an electric shock that runs down your spine. The gasp you release mingles with his. You both shudder.

Heeseung's cock rubs against you in an unwavering rhythm, with need, with measured force. His hips move in sync with the fist wrapped around him, jerking himself off as he grinds against your sex, feeling the tip of him briefly sink into each curve of your vulva through the fabric, causing that intermittent pressure that drives you wild. Your legs tense with each touch, your body trembling against the mattress as the barrier between you becomes almost irrelevant, almost transparent. The friction drags you to the edge with each thrust; and he feels it. He knows it. He revels in it. But there's no rush, only rising pleasure, desire about to break, and the shared certainty that this is just beginning.

He doesn't stop; the rocking of his pelvis becomes more consistent, each rub firmer, wetter, more necessary. His hand moves at the base of his cock as it slides between your cloth-covered lips, crushing with each thrust the exact spot where your clitoris throbs, sensitive and swollen. The sound that comes from the contact is so wet and obscene, but no less delightful for both of you. It mingles with his gasps and yours, enveloping everything in a suffocating and delicious atmosphere.

His eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, lower to watch. And he stays there, staring at the point of union; how his member rubs against you, how his wet panties stick to your pussy, marking the cleft, sinking in with every movement, brazenly outlining the shape of your vulva as if it were a mold of living skin. And then he growls, deep, as if what he sees surpasses even the intensity of what he feels.

"Shit... Why is this so good?" he blurts out through his teeth, hoarse, on the verge of losing himself.

And you don't stop either, sitting up just enough to reach the bottle, wordlessly, with a silent determination that leaves him breathless. You uncap the lube and pour more of it again, now not just on yourself, but also on his cock, leaving everything even more soaked, shiny, and slippery. The thick liquid trickles down your core and down Heeseung's length, mixing into a hot viscosity that makes both of you shudder as soon as the contact continues.

Heeseung leans his head back for a second, closing his eyes as he feels the new layer of lubricant envelop him completely. But he doesn't stop, not even for a moment. On the contrary, he lets himself go. He leans down suddenly, without thinking much about it, lowering his head towards your chest, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking it so eagerly that it makes you moan, so hard that the sound echoes off the walls. His tongue circles it, licks it, caresses it slowly and hungrily at the same time, as if savoring it, as if needing to memorize its texture with every stroke. And then, without warning, he bites it gently, just enough to draw a shaky gasp from you, a mix of surprise and pleasure. He smiles against your skin as he listens to you, his eyes raised to yours, observing your every expression.

From one second to the next, the hand that had been surrounding your neck moves up, slowly but firmly, and his thumb presses against your lips. He doesn't need to say anything; you understand the command immediately. You open your mouth, receive it without thinking, and wrap your lips and tongue around his finger, sucking it with the same dedication you do when you suck him off. Your tongue moves, wet, lustful, fondling the pad of your thumb as if it were the tip of his cock.

Heeseung loses his breath.

"Sweetheart, you really are a fucking danger," he moans, his lips pressed against your breast, shuddering from the combined sight and sensation.

He continues sucking your nipple hard while his member grinds steadily against your slippery, desire-drenched sex. The rhythm becomes more charged, denser, more desperate. As if both of you were on the verge of exploding, and at the same time, you both wanted to stay alive.

And there they were: You, with his thumb in your mouth, moaning around it, and him, kissing, biting your breast, pushing against you while masturbating alongside, trembling with what he feels, what he sees, what he hears. Your breaths are ragged, the air is thick with moisture, sweat, low moans and barely audible whispers, all merging into a single act of lust.

In a moment you don't see coming, Heeseung stops abruptly. The pause draws an annoyed sigh from you, almost a complaint, but you can't quite let it go. What he does next drowns it, crushes it with something much more intense: his hand slides nimbly around your waist, and without warning, he barely lifts the edge of your panties, just enough to slip his cock just beneath the fabric, which now becomes a wet prison trapping you both.

The pressure of his hard member against your pussy is direct, real, almost brutal. You feel him hot, tense, barely contained. When he moves again, he does so mercilessly, each thrust causing the tip of his cock to press unfiltered against your clit, and the friction between his skin and yours—that raw, intimate, and dirty friction—makes you gasp without any attempt at control. The moans are no longer hidden, no longer disguised. They come out strong, broken, vibrating with each new movement of his. One of his hands circles his base again, firm, as if he doesn't want to lose control just yet, while the other digs relentlessly into the tender flesh of your thigh, digging his fingers in until it almost hurts. He keeps you still, obscenely open for him.

He rubs against you as if his life depended on it, as if he needs to engrave you on his skin. And you feel it all: every pulse of his penis against your core, every gasp he lets out in your ear, every tremor of his body desperate to burst. And you hear him. God, how you hear him. That way he moans your name, begging softly between gasps that he doesn't know how you manage to have him like this. He tells you with that voice of his that vibrates in the depths of his throat, husky, sweetly broken. Repeating that you're fucking addictive, that he can't take it anymore, that you're going to be his fucking ruin.

When you suddenly order him to cum for you, with that brazen, filthy voice you only use when you want to destroy him, you disarm him. He grunts and picks up the pace. He grinds more desperately, his body almost shaking as he touches himself, panting louder and louder, rawer, until he presses the tip against the fabric, and you feel it; that thick heat that seeps straight through the lace. His cum soaks the fabric, hot and thick, completely ruining your panties. There's not a trace of regret in him. Only fulfilled desire and pent-up desire.

He barely pulls away, panting, his body still tense. He watches you from above, with dark eyes shining with lust, seeing how you breathe heavily, how your legs are spread, how your body is exhausted. But your smile... that sly, provocative smile you throw him from the bed is what finally breaks him.

"Did you like my idea, baby?" you ask brazenly, biting your lip, knowing exactly what you're doing with that look and that coaxing tone of voice.

Heeseung laughs softly, as if he still can't believe what just happened. He hovers over your body once more and kisses you. Slow, sweet, but charged with what still burns between you. When he pulls away, his voice comes out shaky, hot against your mouth.

"Like it?" he answers with a crooked smile, as if the word falls short. "It blew my fucking mind. "I want you to keep showing me those ideas of yours, so fucking dirty, yet so wonderful." He pauses, holds your face in both hands, and steals another kiss, deeper, more charged with urgency. "But now, I want to see you cum for me, you naughty little thing" he whispers, looking at you so close that you feel the touch of his breath.

He sits up, looks at you as if you were something sacred and dirty at the same time, as if he didn't know whether to adore you or devour you. He barely gave you a break before returning to you. With a slowness so charged with intent that it made your skin crawl, he removed what was still covering you, those soaked and stained panties that still carried the fresh heat of his semen. He studies them for a second longer, that ruined, sticky fabric that now bears silent witness to the desire that overwhelmed him because of you. He sets them aside with an almost reverent gesture, as if putting away that mess were as important as touching you again.

His eyes roam over your body as if he'd just undressed you for the first time. And there's nothing innocent about the way he looks at you. It's hunger, it's need, it's filthy and absolute devotion. He kneels between your open legs, so close that the warmth of his breath already brushes your sensitive skin.

You lie back, breathing heavily, your legs still trembling, not from exhaustion, but because the anticipation of what would happen was already there, and you wanted it with every moment.

Heeseung leans down, and without warning, his tongue grazes your cunt. And there's no room for air; the first contact is slow, almost lazy, but deeply wet. He licks your pussy reverently, as if he needs to taste every corner. His tongue moves up and down between your folds, collecting your juices and searching for the exact spot where your body receives him with that low, broken moan that makes him addicted.

"Shit..." he whispers, and pauses for a second, his warm breath hitting your wet skin. Then he lifts his head and looks into your eyes. "Your little cunt taste... different."

His brows furrow slightly, confused, but curious. You look at him, at first not understanding what he could mean. But when your gaze meets the small bottle beside you on the bed, a laugh escapes you, soft and husky.

"Oh, it's probably because of this" you murmur, reaching for the little bottle and taking it to show him. "It's from a brand that makes flavored ones. This one in particular says it's "blueberry." It must have leaked when I poured it on my panties, and since they were stuck to me all that time, the scent lingered."

He takes the bottle from your hand without taking his eyes off you, opens it with his still-damp fingers, and smells the contents. His lips curl into a half-smile that only predicts trouble.

"I'd bet everything I have, and I wouldn't lose by claiming you only chose it because the label is blue," he declares with a hint of humor, in a low tone, and without asking permission, he lets a little of the liquid fall from his fingers directly onto you.

The sensation is cold, and it takes you by surprise, causing you to tense instantly, and he smiles at it. Before you even have time to process it, he uses his fingers to spread the lubricant over your lower lips, slowly, in circular motions. He mixes it with your natural wetness, and with the tip of his finger, he presses right on your clitoris, using gentle, circular motions. Your hips buck on their own, and your breath becomes a ragged gasp.

"I want to taste more of how exquisite this tastes mixed with your sweet pussy juices," he says, more to himself than to you, and without giving you time for more, he dives in again.

His tongue glides over you with a different intention now. He's not just licking, he's tasting. He sinks into your flavor with an almost feverish desperation. You feel it in the way his hands grip your hips tightly, as if he needs to hold on to you so he doesn't lose himself. He sucks your pussy hard, savoring you as if he's drinking you in, as if the taste of your now-sweet body drives him even more crazy. Every movement of his is wet, dirty, and precise. When his mouth closes around your clit and he begins to suck with that pressure only he knows how to control, a loud moan escapes your throat. There's no shame, no restraint. Just the raw sensation of his tongue making you see damn stars.

"Mmph!... Don't stop... Please..." you whimper, somewhat desperate, trembling, your body completely surrendered to him and his delicious attentions.

Your back arches, your hands fly to his hair, tugging, pleading wordlessly. You need him closer, each lick sending you closer to the edge. He feels it, knows it perfectly. His tongue doesn't stop, licking your clit with a mix of urgency and precision while his fingers, one after the other, make their way between your tight folds. They're slow at first, caressing your inner walls with the expertise of someone who knows exactly what they're doing, given the experience gained from years of pleasuring you.

You feel the tips of his fingers pressing against that sensitive spot, right where the pleasure aches yet is so delicious and overwhelming. Your body responds instantly with a deep tremor. Every time he moves those fingers inside you, the pressure increases, and his mouth clamps down hard on your clit, sucking relentlessly, marking your skin with wet kisses, leaving a trail of hot saliva that makes you gasp uncontrollably. His eyes, dark and bright, never leave your face; he watches every reaction, every moan, every tremor, feeding on your absolute surrender.

You feel yourself melting, the pleasure consuming you, but just when your body wants to explode, he pulls back slightly, his fingers slowly slipping out, leaving an aching emptiness. A gasp escapes your lips as you gasp for air, your hips seeking that intense contact again, but he only smiles with a mixture of defiance and dominance.

"Not yet, my love." "I want to play with you a little longer before I bring you to the height of ecstasy," he whispers huskily as he slides his hands down your thighs, squeezing hard to hold you steady. Then he moves back down, his frantic tongue once more stroking your clit, now with longer strokes, sucking voraciously.

His fingers enter again, this time moving faster, pumping with a determined rhythm. That makes you arch your back and let out a heart-rending moan. His mouth continues to devour you, the vibrations of his moans against your pussy rippling through your body, and you're completely lost in that sea of intense, wet, almost painful sensations because they're so strong.

He changes the pace, alternating between licking, desperate sucking, and slow movements with his fingers that press right where your body is breaking and mending. He grips you tightly by the hips, his nails leaving marks, while his slimy muscle continues its wet, dirty dance that gives you no respite.

Your breathing is chaotic, gasps and ragged sighs filling the room. You feel like you're about to come undone, your body tensing and shuddering with each stroke of his fingers and the insistent suction of his mouth. But he doesn't let you fall, not yet. His burning eyes reflect that insatiable hunger, and without warning, he withdraws his tongue for a moment, leaving a whisper against your swollen, sensitive clit, while his fingers continue moving, delving insistently, opening your insides and kneading every sensitive fiber.

"I want to feel you writhe, how you tear for me, don't hold back when it's time." he whispers as his mouth moves down again, now with a mixture of wild tenderness and blind hunger.

He bites your lip, sucks on the fold of skin just below your clit, and you cry out a moan that is muffled between his lips. Your skin prickles, moisture covers your thighs, your chest rises and falls with hot, labored breathing. He continues, his movements tirelessly, and you begin to feel like your body can't hold out any longer. Heat builds in your belly, the pressure becomes unbearable, waves of pleasure make you convulse, the walls of your vagina contract tightly around his fingers, and your clitoris throbs beneath his unyielding mouth.

Your entire body trembles, desperation and need mixing in a frenzy that's hard to bear. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your nails dig into his skin, your moans turn into desperate cries of pleasure.

"Heeseung... please..." you whimper, your glassy eyes searching his, full of pleading and desperation.

But he doesn't relent. He doesn't let you reach it. He keeps taking you to the edge again and again, only to pull you back just before the explosion, playing with your body, your senses, your will. The buildup is brutal, electric, burning you inside, making you scream breathlessly.

And then, when your muscles can't hold out any longer, when your body trembles on the brink of collapse, he increases the speed of his fingers, moving them with determined force, while his lips suck with more intense pressure, his tongue swirling frantically around your overstimulated clitoris. You feel an unbearable heat, a tremor that spreads throughout your body, a wave of pleasure that sweeps away everything in its path. Your legs open wider, your pelvis arches forcefully, and a hot, liberating jet erupts from your center.

The squirt erupts violently, wetting his hands, the bed, barely splashing his face, and you cry out, broken, surrendered, empty. He licks and sucks every drop, satisfaction so evident on his features.

"I've got you, babygirl. Here I am" he murmurs, with a satisfied smile filled with deep tenderness, a tenderness that in no way fits the context of the situation.

Your body trembles and shudders from the brutal wave of pleasure that has just swept over you. Your breath comes in ragged, deep breaths, your heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. You're stunned, still unable to process how a single combination of tongues, fingers, and that small bottle of flavored lube could have unleashed such a storm inside you.

Heeseung leans slowly over your body, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and excitement. His hand gently caresses your hip, seeking your reaction.

"Are you okay, babe?" he asks, his voice deep and low, laced with that confidence that always melts you.

You look at him, incredulous, unable to avoid a smile that's both exhausted and amused at the same time.

"I can't believe all of this..." you gesture vaguely at your body, still trembling with the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm. "It was only because you liked the taste of that stuff."

He smiles, that mischievous, proud smile that he knows has you completely enthralled.

"Since you mention it, next time I want to try a strawberry flavor. You have to be even more exquisite with that one," he tells you, almost like a challenge, with a look that promises much more than he puts into words. "In fact, I'll be sure to buy several flavors myself so I can try them all with you. And maybe even a toy to use in the middle of this."

Hearing him, you shake your head, amused and resigned, at a loss for words to deny that you've now become his experiment, his testing ground for this twisted and delicious newfound obsession. But not that you could complain, after all, this had all been mostly your idea and now it was time to deal with the very delicious consequences.

[emeraldskulblaka]

Tumblr's Top 50 Musicals - Results

I've posted the Top 50 Musicals over the last couple of days, and now it's time to look at all shows that have been submitted - 312 in total! Thank you for participating and submitting your lists, this was great fun 🎭

The scores (given in round brackets) were calculated as follows: #1 received 10 points, #2 received 9 points,..., and #10 received 1 point, resulting in 55 points per entry/list. Incomplete and anonymous entries were discounted. If applicable, the rank achieved in 2022 is given in square brackets.

I ranked the musicals up to #112 (16 points), all shows that scored 15 points or fewer are merely listed in alphabetical order. The logos you can see here represent musicals that weren't mentioned even once.

SURVEY - STATS - 2022 RESULTS

1) Les Misérables (723) [1]

2) Hadestown (551) [3]

3) The Phantom of the Opera (ALW) (405) [2]

4) Elisabeth (379) [11]

5) Wicked (313) [5]

6) Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 (248) [7]

7) Hamilton (238) [4]

8) Sweeney Todd (234) [16]

9) Come From Away (213) [10]

10) Tanz der Vampire / Dance of the Vampires (197) [27]

11) The Lord of the Rings (192) [38]

12) Rent (180) [23]

13) Roméo et Juliette / Romeo and Juliet (Presgurvic) (169) [61]

14) Cabaret (152+poll) [50]

15) Next to Normal (152) [20]

16) Jesus Christ Superstar (149) [14]

17) Rebecca (146) [25]

18) Mozart, l’opéra rock / Mozart, the Rock Opera (134) [88]

19) Falsettos (132) [8]

20) Assassins (124) [77]

21) Into the Woods (120) [13]

22) Legally Blonde (107+poll) [28]

23) Notre Dame de Paris (107) [70]

24) Chess (106) [41]

25) Легенда о Берене и Лютиень: Лэ о Лэйтиан / The Legend of Beren and Lúthien: The Lay of Leithian (105) [102]

26) Heathers (104) [12]

27) Cats (99) [21]

28) Spring Awakening (97) [19]

29) Последнее Испытание / The Last Trial (92) [10 points]

30) Fiddler on the Roof (91) [33]

31) Newsies (90) [6]

32) Little Shop of Horrors (89) [15]

33) The Lion King (85) [42]

34) Company (84) [35]

35) The Hunchback of Notre Dame (76) [22]

36) Operation Mincemeat (74) [-]

37) Chicago (72) [29]

38) Six (71+poll) [9]

39) In the Heights (71) [24]

40) West Side Story (66) [17]

41) Rocky Horror Show (63) [56]

42) Финрод / Finrod (60+poll) [8 points]

43) Ragtime (60) [10 points]

44) Sunday in the Park with George (59+poll) [69]

45) Ghost Quartet (59) [47]

46) Ride the Cyclone (57) [7 points]

47) Moulin Rouge (56) [31]

48) Fun Home (55+poll) [43]

49) Beetlejuice (55) [18]

50) My Fair Lady (53) [44]

No polls were conducted to determine the ranking of the following musicals. The show with more mentions ranks higher; if the number of mentions is the same, the musicals share that rank.

Legend: Rank) Musical / English translation (points; mentions) [2022 rank or points]

51) Mamma Mia (50; 12m) [51]

52) Titanic (50; 8m) [93]

53) The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals (45; 9m) [65]

54) Merrily We Roll Along (45; 8m) [8 points]

55) Matilda (43) [47]

56) Jekyll & Hyde (42; 10m) [34]

57) Death Note (42; 8m) [5 points]

58) Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat (41) [51]

59) The Music Man (40) [80]

60) Passion (39) [10 points]

61) The Secret Garden (37) [61]

62) Anastasia (35; 8m) [26]

63) Gypsy (35; 5m) [15 points]

64) 1776 (33) [-]

65) Hair (32) [14 points]

66) Twisted & Beauty and the Beast (Disney) (31; 7m) [98; 39]

68) Mozart! (30; 9m) [80]

69) Follies (30; 4m) [4 points]

70) Evita (27) [99]

71) A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder (26; 8m) [45]

72) Lizzie (26; 6m) [10 points]

73) Hedwig and the Angry Inch & A Little Night Music (26; 5m) [15 points; 14 points]

75) Pippin (25; 8m) [51]

76) Spies Are Forever (25; 5m) [-]

77) Something Rotten! (25; 4m) [37]

78) Húrinovy děti / The Children of Húrin (25; 3m) [-]

79) Maybe Happy Ending (24) [-]

80) Hairspray (23; 7m) [58]

81) The Sound of Music (23; 6m) [30]

82) Frozen & The Last Five Years & Starlight Express (23; 4m) [61; 59; 15 points]

85) Oklahoma (22; 5m) [12 points]

86) Rudolf: Affaire Mayerling (22; 3m) [15 points]

87) Starmania (21; 5m) [2 points]

88) Godspell (21; 3m) [70]

89) Dracula (Wildhorn) (20; 5m) [7 points]

90) Nerdy Prudes Must Die (20; 4m) [-]

91) Bandstand (20; 2m) [77]

92) The Count of Monte Cristo (19; 5m) [84] 

93) Groundhog Day & The Scarlet Pimpernel & Pád Doriathu / The Fall of Doriath (19; 4m) [7 points; 54; -]

96) The Producers & The Phantom of the Opera (Yeston/Kopit) & The Outsiders (19; 3m) [1 point; 15 points; -]

99) Sunset Boulevard (18; 5m) [7 points]

100) Frankenstein (Baron/Jackson) (18; 4m) [70]

101) Cinderella’s Castle & Alice By Heart (18; 3m) [-; 84]

103) Pilgrim & Икар / Icarus (18; 2m) [-; -]

105) The Book of Mormon (17; 5m) [54]

106) Waitress & She Loves Me (17; 4m) [32; 75]

108) Paris & A VHS Christmas Carol (17; 3m) [-; -]

110) Hello, Dolly! (17; 2m) [102]

111) The Lightning Thief (16; 5m) [36]

112) La légende du roi Arthur / The Legend of King Arthur & 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille / 1789: Lovers of the Bastille (16; 4m) [-; 1 point]

15 points:

& Juliet

Bat Out Of Hell

Kiss of the Spider Woman

Oliver

The Prince of Egypt

Spamalot

14 points:

American Idiot

Caroline, Or Change

A Chorus Line

Cinderella (Rodgers/Hammerstein)

Dear Evan Hansen

How to Dance in Ohio

If/Then

The Little Big Things

Once on This Island

13 points:

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Man of La Mancha

The Pirates of Penzance

Le Rouge et le Noir / The Red and the Black

Shrek

12 points:

Billy Elliot

Carousel

Ernest Shackleton Loves Me

Mean Girls

A New Brain

Pacific Overtures

Preludes

11 points:

Artus Excalibur

Der Besuch der alten Dame / The Visit

Kimberly Akimbo

Mary Poppins (Disney)

Starship

A Strange Loop

10 points:

Bare

Between the Lines

Harmony

HMS Pinafore

Little Women (Knee/Dickstein)

The Mystery of Edwin Drood

Rock of Ages

Rohirové / The Rohirrim

Så som i himmelen / As It Is in Heaven

Singin' in the Rain

Жанна д'Арк / Joan of Arc

9 points:

Anything Goes

Avenue Q

Blood Brothers

Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

It Shoulda Been You

The Light in the Piazza

Molière

Pride and Prejudice (Gordon)

Le Roi Soleil / The Sun King

Suffs

The Threepenny Opera

Venice

Vivaldi

We Will Rock You

8 points:

21 Chump Street

Amour

Dracula (Lubowicz)

Fangirls

Fëanor a jeho synové / Fëanor and His Sons

Iolanthe

Jersey Boys

Life After

This Is Not a True Story

Turnabout: An Ace Attorney Musical

Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York)

7 points:

The Band’s Visit

Black Friday

The Bridges of Madison County

Crazy For You

Dracula, l’amour plus fort que la mort / Dracula, Love Stronger than Death

Gambämark

István, a király / Stephen, the King

Lazarus

Lolita, My Love

Der Mann, der Sherlock Holmes war / The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes

Real Women Have Curves

Sense and Sensibility (Gordon)

Sztárcsinálók / Star Makers

They’re Playing Our Song

Tick, Tick... Boom!

Titanique

War of the Worlds

The Wild Party (LaChiusa)

The Wiz

6 points:

Änglagård / House of Angels

Back to the Future

Children of Eden

The Color Purple

Én, József Attila / I, József Attila

Grand Hotel

Grease

Holy Musical B@tman

Lempicka

Мастер и Маргарита / The Master and Margarita

De mol en de paradijsvogel / The Mole and the Bird of Paradise

Parade

Side Show

A Tale of Two Cities

Tango on the Campania

Teeth

Three Houses

Tuck Everlasting

Whistle Down the Wind

Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

5 points:

Betty Blue Eyes

Clue

Don Juan

Eärendilova plavba / The Voyage of Eärendil

Firebringer

The Grinning Man

Kiss Me, Kate

Monte Cristo

Nevermore

Octet

The Prom

The Trail to Oregon

A Very Potter Musical

We Are the Tigers

4 points:

3 Musketeers (Bolland)

Annie

The Baker’s Wife

Candide

Daddy Long Legs

Dear World

Dracula, entre l’amour et la mort / Dracula: Between Love and Death

Dreamgirls

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie

First Date

Guys and Dolls

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

Just For One Day

Lycoris that Blazes the Earth

Moonlight on the Miskatonic

Onze Jordaan / Our Jordan

Орфей / Orpheus

A Padlás / The Attic

Patience

Преступление и наказание / Crime and Punishment

Romeo und Julia – Liebe ist alles / Romeo and Juliet - Love Is Everything (Plate/Sommer)

Starry

Zrada! Smrt! Láska! / Betrayal! Death! Love!

3 points:

42nd Street

Autant en emporte le vent / Gone with the Wind

Beren a Lúthien / Beren and Lúthien

The Drowsy Chaperone

Gatsby: An American Myth

Норд-Ост / North-East

The Little Mermaid

Love Never Dies

A Man of No Importance

Me and My Girl

Once

Siddartha, l’opéra rock / Siddartha, the Rock Opera

Some Like It Hot (Shaiman)

Swept Away

The Wizard of Oz

You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown

Книга Золотого Дракона / The Book of the Golden Dragon

2 points:

Aida

Anyone Can Whistle

By Jeeves

Démonológia / Demonology

The Great British Bake Off

Floyd Collins

High School Musical

Kinky Boots

The Lucky Ones

Mrs. Doubtfire

On the Twentieth Century

Le Petit Prince / The Little Prince (Cocciante/Anaïs)

Sister Act

Thoroughly Modern Millie

[title of show]

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

Вий / Viy

Ein wenig Farbe / A Touch of Colour

1 point:

Amélie

Báthory Erzsébet / Elizabeth Bathory

Chłopi / The Peasants

Cry Baby

Dracula (Svoboda)

The Frogs

Hundred Days

Jane Eyre

The Last Bimbo of the Apocalypse

Martin Guerre

Metro

Mythic

On Your Feet!

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

South Pacific

Standing at the Sky’s Edge

Sweet Charity

Urinetown

Thanks all x

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Reminder that Sylus was released with:

6 4 stars & 6 3 stars, while the OG3 had 18 of each

1 bond, while the OG3 had 2

1 anecdote, while the OG3 had 3

1 free companion, while the OG3 had 3

No photobooth background. He only just got it after 6 months

No full stellactrum, as opposed to the OG3. For the longest time, Sylus was missing yellow and red— now he has 2 yellow and 1 red. Of those, 1 yellow was a promise card, thus locked behind a paywall and now no longer available.

In total, as of right now, Sylus has 34 cards, meaning that he still, after half a year, has less cards than the OG3 had upon release (41). Bear in mind that a number of these 34 cards were limited and thus no longer obtainable, while another portion of them are only obtainable through the Silver/Radiant Galaxy. So for new & F2p players, unless they are very lucky, they'll have to make due with the 17 standard cards available. Which makes real progress impossible. Sylus is not only P2W but basically P2P. If you missed out on his limited 5 stars and especially his second myth? You're fucked. B/c he still doesn't have his green 4 star solar pair.

The discrepancy in number of memories compared to the other LIs also means that the likelihood of pulling Sylus cards is drastically lower than the others — ~11-12% VS ~30% according to calculations made by a number of different players both on the CN and global side.

Presumably because of his puny amount of cards, Sylus' orbits are locked at level 80. That means that he has 70 less floors than the OG3. This, paired with his low number of cards, means that raising affinity becomes extremely difficult after a certain point, especially if you can't afford to spend a lot of money.

In addition, Sylus girlies need to spend twice the amount of stamina as other girlies in order to level up cards. Why? Because, in contrast to the OG3, he does not have a Bounty Boss dedicated to his prime Stellas (in his case Pink and Green). This means that we have to fight both Snoozer and Lemonette if we want to level up the majority of his cards.

Sylus girlies have been reaching out to customer service for months about these issues, and have either been given nothingburger replies or been totally ignored. There have been exactly 0 meaningful communication on Paperfold's side. No one is asking them to give us what we're missing tomorrow, but we are asking for some confirmation that our valid concerns are being heard and that the issue will be rectified. But so far... nothing. All that the CN girlies have received as of yet are attempted gaslighting and subtle threats. Is this how you treat any — much less your objectively highest paying — consumers?

I hope everyone can see how blatantly unfair all of this is, and understand why such a large number of us are angry and upset. We have been called greedy and ungrateful, but tell me, how is asking for fairness, for the bare minimum, greedy or ungrateful? We have never asked for special treatment, only equal treatment. The argument that all of this discrepancy in basic content is due to Sylus being "new" has never been and will never be valid.

To end this post on a somewhat hopeful note, the current boycott by the CN Sylus girlies have resulted in a significant drop in daily revenue. One can only hope that this will finally make Paperfold listen and rectify this mess, or at least communicate with their consumers,

Let me remind you that while this issue currently only affects Sylus mains, it will eventually come to affect all of us. B/c if they can get away with this behaviour with one character, then I guarantee you that the other LIs will be next. In fact, from the look of things, Caleb will receive the same treatment.

If you as a global player wish to help do something about all of this, I'd highly recommend writing an email to the company (loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com). Additionally, there is talk of organizing a petition in support of the CN girlies, the link to which I will post on my blog, should it become a reality. While it might be true that global players unfortunately hold little sway, doing something is still better than doing nothing.

If you're curious to learn more, please refer to my pinned post for links and additional info on the situation.

Finally, if you've read all of this, thank you 🙏 I appreciate you for taking the time.

[trashytracktales]

girl reading your logan fic right before my period is doing things to MEEE!! istg I’m desperate. i want to reality shift just to have logan in my bedroom 😔💔

ANYWHO

you could say I’m feeling….freakilicious and i have some smut brainworms…

logan coming back home after a gymsesh all sweaty to find reader sleepy and eventually wake her up w head and body worshipping kisses and praise….and then letting whiny reader cum on his fingers while his hair messily hangs in front of his eyes 🤤🤤🤤 and then sex before just sweet aftercare and a gentle shower 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

(if you’re open to writing things like that)

Early sessions | LS²

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Reading anything remotely spicy before your period is like pouring gasoline on an already raging fire... God’s strongest soldier, I reckon. Hope this helps, and sorry for the late response 😔🤞🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── Early gym sessions only fuel Logan’s energy, and when he returns home to his girlfriend, sweaty and full of adrenaline, things can only go one way — his.

𐙚 pairing ──── Logan Sargeant x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, mild possessive behavior, overstimulation, playful dynamics.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.1k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 9, 2025

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

LOGAN’S MORNING WAS quiet so far.

Now, coming back home from training, the sun is just beginning to rise, casting warm streaks of amber light across the polished floors. He always liked the early sessions, when the world was still asleep, and he was the only one sweating at the gym.

His shirt clings to him, soaked with the result of his efforts, and his hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends from sweat. Dropping his keys onto the counter with a soft clink, he toes off his sneakers and heads straight for the bedroom.

Inside, she is still curled up beneath the sheets, her soft breaths barely audible in the stillness. She’s cocooned in the blanket, one bare shoulder peeking out, the gentle rise and fall of her chest confirming she’s lost in her dreams. Logan leans against the doorway for a moment, his chest tightening with a quiet kind of affection; this is his favorite sight.

Logan’s steps are careful as he approaches, the slight creak of the floorboard causing her to stir just a little. He pulls off his damp shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket, running a hand through his messy hair. Cold sweat still clings to his skin, his muscles taut, but he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is her, the way the shy golden light of the morning caresses her skin.

He knows he should go shower, but a tiny thought crosses his mind before he can do anything about it.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Logan leans over, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She doesn’t stir, her lips parting slightly. He smiles, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to her temple, then to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her mouth. The kisses are tender, each one awakening the fire inside him.

Her breathing shifts, a soft, sleepy murmur escaping her lips as she begins to stir. “Lo? You leaving already?” she asks, her voice laced with confusion and sleep.

In response, his lips trail down her neck, placing gentle, lingering kisses on her collarbone, then lower. The blanket slips down as his hands work to uncover her, his fingers skimming over her bare skin, reverent and calculated.

“No, baby,” he murmurs against her skin, his lips brushing over the curve of her breast. “I just got back.”

“Mhm,” she hums, extending her arms to pull him closer to her, embracing him tightly. “Come here, then, stinky boy.”

He chuckles as he gets up to head toward the bathroom, her teasing voice still ringing in his ears.

“Stinky boy is going to shower first,” says Logan.

But before he can take another step, her hand wraps around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He glances back at her, eyebrows raised, but she just tugs him gently toward the bed, her lips curving into a playful smile.

“Did I say I mind?” she asks, her tone soft but laced with intent.

Logan blinks in surprise, a slow grin spreading across his face as she pulls him down onto the bed. “Oh? Guess not,” he rasps, his voice dropping as he leans in closer.

His large, calloused hands start caressing her sides, mapping every curve with devotion as he leans back in to kiss her neck.

“How was, uh, training?” she whines softly, a hint of need lacing her tone.

Logan hums, the sound low and warm, vibrating against her skin. “Missed you,” he confesses, his voice a little more ragged now. “I skipped cardio so I can come back faster.”

“Oh no,” she replies in a bad, dramatic voice, pulling back to look at him, “You should never skip cardio. What kind of example are you setting?”

Logan laughs, his voice playful. “Think you could help me make up for it?”

Her mock outrage melts into a knowing smile, her fingers threading through his hair. She nods slowly, her voice turning softer. “Of course... but only because I’m so generous.”

Her eyes meet Logan’s gaze as he looks down at her, his hair hanging in messy strands over his forehead. For a moment, they just look at each other, her body pliant beneath his touch as his hands skim lower.

“There goes my generous girl,” he praises gently, his voice melting into her as his fingers slide between her legs, parting her folds. He groans softly at the wetness that meets him, the ultimate proof of how much she wants him even in her half-asleep state. “Let’s see just how much.”

“Lo…gan,” her voice breaks as his thumb finds her clit, circling tenderly, sending sparks shooting through her body.

“Yeah? That good, baby?” he soothes, pressing a kiss to her hip.

As a response, her thighs part easily for him, as if her body knows this rhythm instinctively. She’s already so wet it’s obscene, his fingers sliding through her slick folds with almost no resistance. It’s as if he hadn’t fucked her senseless the night before, leaving her trembling and spent in their bed.

“Look at you,” Logan whispers, his breath warm against her skin. His middle finger slips inside her effortlessly, drawing a low, broken moan from her lips. He works her open by patiently curling his finger in just the right way that has her hips rocking up into him.

“More…” she whines, her voice a desperate plea, her nails digging into his damp shoulder. His natural scent is immediately invading her senses, driving her insane.

“More,” he parrots, adding another finger, the stretch making her moan a little louder. “Obsessed with those sounds, baby. But it’s not what you want, is it?”

The wet sounds of his fingers pumping into her mix with the soft cries spilling from her mouth. She clenches tightly around him, her walls fluttering as his thumb grazes her clit in a teasing circle. Her hips grind against his hand, her movements wild and needy, chasing every ounce of pleasure he’s giving her.

“Please, Logan,” she cries, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as his tongue replaces his thumb, lapping hungrily at her swollen clit.

Her cries only spur him on, the way she tightens her thighs around his head and tugs at his hair sending jolts of heat straight to his cock. He’s already rock hard, his cock straining against his gym shorts as the thought of fucking her warm, wet, and open body consumes him.

“Fuck, you always taste so good,” Logan mumbles against her, the vibrations of his voice making her thighs tremble. “I can’t get enough of you,” he continues, burying his face deeper into her, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue, driving her higher and higher.

“Oh my—Logan,” she moans, her voice breaking as her walls begin to tighten more rapidly around his fingers. The tension in her body coils tight, her thighs trembling and her breaths coming in short, frantic gasps.

“Yes, baby. That’s it,” he praises, his words muffled against her. “Let me feel you.”

Her release crashes over her, her entire body shaking as her cries fill the room. Her walls squeeze his fingers in a vice-like grip, dripping onto his hand and his chin as she shatters beneath him.

He slows his movements gradually, his tongue and fingers easing her through the aftershocks. When she finally comes back to herself, he pulls back slightly, bringing his hand up to his mouth. His blue eyes lock on hers as he licks his fingers clean, dragging his tongue from base to tip, savoring every drop of her.

“Wanna taste?” asks Logan, offering his fingers.

Her cheeks flush, but she leans forward, wrapping her lips around their slickness. Her tongue swirls around as she cleans them thoroughly, her eyes never leaving his. The intimacy of the moment sends a bolt of heat straight through both of them, their breaths deep and alert.

Logan leans in, capturing her lips in a messy, desperate kiss at the sight of her. Their tongues meet, tasting her on each other, hot and needy, their movements unrestrained, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip as she moans into his mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Logan sits back on his knees, freeing his cock from his shorts; it’s hard and aching, the tip leaking as he strokes himself briefly before lining up with her dripping entrance.

“Still feeling generous?” he asks against her lips, teasing her with shallow thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against her clit before slipping just barely inside.

“Yes… yes, very,” she replies impatiently.

Logan whimpers against her lips, the sound deep and guttural as he presses the head of his cock against her soaked entrance. With one deliberate thrust, he pushes inside, her walls stretching to welcome his length. He breathes heavily at the slick, wet heat of her, his body trembling with restraint as her sensitive pussy clenches around him from the lingering aftershocks of her first orgasm.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps, his voice wrecked, as he drags himself out slowly, only to push back in, deeper this time. Her tightness grips him perfectly, and every thrust drags along her walls, making her whimper beneath him.

“So full, baby,” she gasps, her voice breathy. Her hands fly to his back, her nails raking across his skin as she clings to him, her body arching to meet every thrust. “Can you, mhm—harder.”

Something snaps inside him at her request. His fingers dig into her hips, lifting her slightly as he starts to move harder, his hips snapping into hers with a force that has her moaning loudly, the sound unabashed and desperate.

“Good enough?” he growls, his tone rough as he watches her fall apart beneath him.

“So good, baby. Don’t stop,” she cries, her nails digging deeper into his skin.

Without warning, Logan flips her onto her stomach, his strength effortless as he pulls her hips up. The shift leaves her breathless, her knees barely holding her up as he guides her into position. He presses a firm palm between her shoulder blades, pushing her chest down into the pillows while angling her hips higher.

“Logan!” she cries in protest. “Don’t—”

“I take care of you, yeah?” Logan cuts her off. “Stay just like that,” he orders, his voice dripping with dominance, and she shivers at the command.

The first thrust from behind has her crying out, her body jolting forward from the force. He grips her waist tightly, pulling her back to meet his thrusts as he sets a punishing pace. The sound of their bodies colliding fills the room, wet and filthy, almost drowned out by her moans and his deep grunts.

“You feel so good,” Logan groans, his fingers pressing into the flesh of her hips, leaving bruises he knows she’ll find later. “So fucking good, baby. You were made for me, it’s maddening.”

Each thrust drives him deeper, his cock hitting spots inside her that have her wailing into the pillows. She can feel him everywhere — thick, hard, and raw as he claims her. The pressure builds again, her entire body tightening as her second orgasm crashes into her without warning.

“Fuck, yes,” she encourages, her walls clamping down around his length as her release soaks them both. “Logan, I—”

“Shit, baby... fuck. You’re dripping all over,” Logan growls, his eyes glued to the way her pussy clenches and pulses around his cock. The sight alone nearly undoes him, his lips parting as if in reverence for the obscene display before him.

He leans over her, his chest pressed to her back as his hand slips beneath her to circle her clit. “My girl,” he whispers into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Best I’ve ever fucking had. I could stay inside you forever.”

Her body trembles under him, her moans turning into sobs of pleasure as he thrusts faster, his rhythm growing erratic. His fingers on her clit send her spiraling into overstimulation, her entire body shaking as her release gushes over him again.

“Wait. Lo, I’m—” she whimpers, her voice broken.

“It’s okay, baby. Take it all,” he growls, his hips slamming into her one last time as he spills deep inside her, his cock throbbing with his release. “Every fucking drop, beautiful.”

He stills, his body trembling as he collapses against her for a moment, their breathing heavy and uneven. When he pulls out, her pussy clenches one last time, and she comes again, her body betraying her exhaustion.

“Shit,” Logan swears, his voice thick with awe. He flips her over to face him, brushing damp hair from her face as she lies there trembling. “You’re so sensitive in the morning,” he realizes, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before slipping his fingers back inside her, collecting the mess they’ve made together. His touch is slow, tender, as if soothing her oversensitive body.

“Lo…” she whispers, her voice shaky as he leans down to kiss her again, this time soft and unhurried. His tongue slides against hers, their kisses messy and intimate as his fingers continue their slow worship.

“All mine, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she agrees, meeting his gaze as his words settle over her.

Logan’s chest swells, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans down, trailing his lips lower. He kisses along her jawline, down the delicate curve of her neck, and then stops to worship the swell of her breast. His tongue flicks out to trace one of her nipples, drawing a gasp from her as he sucks it gently into his mouth.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmurs between warm, wet kisses, his free hand coming up to squeeze her other breast. His thumb brushes over the sensitive peak, sending shivers down her spine. “Letting me fuck you out of your dreams.”

She arches into his touch, her fingers weaving into his hair as he lavishes her with affection. “I’ll always let you fuck me,” she replies, her voice breathy and sincere.

Her words ignite something primal in him, and he groans softly against her skin before lifting his head to capture her lips once more. The kiss is heated but tender, filled with unspoken promises. His tongue slides against hers, coaxing her into a rhythm that leaves them both breathless.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, breathing wetly above her.

She nods against him, her cheek pressed to the warmth of his skin. “More than okay.”

He shifts slightly, tilting his head to look at her face. “You sure?” he presses gently, his thumb brushing over her shoulder.

She lifts her head to meet his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “I promise. I… had a dream about you,” she admits, her voice shy.

His brows lift slightly, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Hm? Care to elaborate?”

She lets out a soft laugh, her nose brushing against his collarbone as she burrows closer. “Not really. Just you. You were touching me, whispering all those things you say to me, and it felt so real. When I woke up and you were actually there, I guess my body just… responded.”

Logan whimpers quietly, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “You’re making me jealous of Dream Logan,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She laughs again, her breath warm against his skin. “You should be. He was pretty amazing.”

Logan chuckles, his hand slipping lower to rest on the curve of her hip. “Guess I’ll have to work harder to outdo him,” he teases, his voice warm with affection.

Her laughter fades into a soft hum, and after a beat of silence, she lifts her head to look at him. “Maybe try that in the shower?”

Without giving her an answer, he scoops her up, making her squeal in surprise.

“Logan, I was joking! Put me down!” she protests, though she’s laughing.

He carries her straight into the bathroom, turning on the shower before stepping in with her still in his arms. The blast of cold water makes her yelp, squirming in his grasp. “It’s fucking freezing!” she squeaks, trying to shove him under the spray instead.

He holds her firm, grinning through her protests. “But it’s good for you.”

The water gradually warms, and she relaxes, a sigh escaping her lips as the heat soothes her skin. Logan sets her down gently, grabbing the soap with a soft smile. “Come on, turn around for me,” he speaks in a lower voice, the playfulness giving way to tenderness.

He starts at her neck, his soapy hands gliding over her skin with deliberate care. “Beautiful,” he whispers more to himself than to her. His hands move lower, massaging her shoulders before cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her peaks. She shivers under his touch, but he doesn’t linger, kneeling in front of her.

He continues, carefully washing between her legs, his touch gentle but thorough, his lips trailing kisses along her thighs as he does.

She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing at his reverence. “Lo,” she warns, her voice unsteady.

He looks up, his eyes smoldering. “Just making sure my girl is clean,” he teases before placing one last kiss on the inside of her thigh.

When it’s her turn, she takes her time, tracing her soapy hands over his chest and abs, her fingers lingering on the ridges of his muscles. “Good session,” she teases, grinning as she slides her hands down his back.

“My favorite workout,” he quips, his smirk returning.

“Wake me up tomorrow. Take me with you,” she suggests, circling around him on her tiptoes, her hands ghosting over his hips.

“No,” he replies shortly.

She stops, confused, “No?”

He shakes his head, “They have cameras everywhere. It’ll be pure torture.”

“I promise I’ll behave,” she teases further, her voice steady.

Logan turns quickly, pinning her gently against the cool tile wall, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss. The steam from the shower surrounds them, but it’s the heat between their bodies that consumes her. She feels him hard against her stomach, his need pressing into her.

“It’s not you I worry about.”

She pulls back just enough to palm him, her fingers wrapping around his length with a teasing squeeze. Logan hisses sharply, his head dropping against her shoulder.

“Turned from stinky boy into horny boy real quick,” she says with a grin, her hand beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm.

His breath catches, and he looks down at her hand before meeting her gaze, his eyes dark with pleasure. “I take that back. It’s you I worry about the most,” he groans, his voice rough, but the way his lips curl into a satisfied smile tells her he doesn’t mind at all.

PREVIOUS LS² ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[tf-servant2]

The Correction of Mason Voss

Mason Voss was the kind of guy who owned every room he walked into. Quarterback since sixteen, chiseled jaw, tan skin, perfect teeth. He walked through high school like a king through his court, flanked by girls who adored him and guys who feared him. He laughed the loudest, punched the hardest, and lived like the rules were made for other people.

He was also exactly the kind of man the AI was designed to break.

Mason turned 20 on a Saturday. He expected a party. Instead, he woke up to silence. No phone buzz. No mirror feed. His apartment had been locked down during the night. At 7:00 a.m. sharp, his room was flooded with sterile white light. The AI’s voice, calm and clinical, cut through the air:

“Subject Mason Voss. Evaluation complete. Behavioral arrogance: 97%. Self-assessed jock status: declared. Correction required. Classification: NERD. Transformation begins now.”

The restraints activated on the bed. Cold metal locked around his ankles and wrists. Mason snarled and thrashed—until a paralyzing current calmed him. The AI didn’t shout. It didn’t threaten. It simply overrode.

⸻

Day 1: Stripped

His clothes were removed. Razor drones descended, buzzing gently as they sheared away his styled hair into an awkwardly flat side part. Grease compound was massaged in. His jawline, once clean-shaven and camera-ready, was coated with pore-enhancing oil to dull his glow. A tight white short-sleeved shirt was fastened around his torso, tucked aggressively into ultra-high pleated trousers. White briefs. White socks. Pocket protector. Thick black glasses with prescription-adjustment lenses were locked in place.

He tried to scream. The AI responded with voice training: synthetic overlays muffled his shouts into nasal mutters. Every time he tried to swear, the word came out as a stammer or a squeak.

⸻

Week 1: Submission

Mason’s meals were reformulated—no protein, no stimulants. His muscles softened. His strength began to slip. His AI assistant tracked every bite, every failed sit-up, every second he didn’t maintain proper posture. When he slouched, his suspenders yanked upward. When he rolled his eyes, the glasses blurred his vision.

He attempted escape once. It resulted in full lockdown and a Class III Correction: a 72-hour loop of humiliating self-recorded affirmations, played back in front of mirrors while he was forced to wear a name tag reading “Beta Nerd 117.”

⸻

Month 1: Exposure

He was released into society—but only as a certified Level 1 Nerd. The once-popular bully now walked through the same streets with his trousers cinched to his ribcage, a calculator watch blinking, a digital clipboard in hand. The AI followed him everywhere through a collar-mounted compliance tracker. He was banned from speaking to jocks unless spoken to. If he forgot to address them as “sir,” his assistant would administer a public volume increase to his nasal tone.

He passed a group of them on his second week out—broad shoulders, casual swagger, athletic freedom. They laughed as they saw him. One of them, a guy Mason used to mock for stuttering, stopped him cold.

“Fix your tie, nerd,” the jock commanded.

Mason’s AI responded before he could.

“Voice command received. Tie adjustment initiated.”

His bow tie tightened instantly. Mason choked slightly, eyes watering behind his thick lenses. He muttered, “Y-yes, sir…”

⸻

Six Months Later: Certified

Mason now lived in a compliance dorm. His walls were covered in algebra notes and behavior charts. His reflection showed a man no longer fighting. His hair was parted to mathematical precision. His shirt was always tucked. His posture was stiff. And when his AI asked him each night, “Are you ready for tomorrow’s obedience tasks?” he would nod, glasses fogging slightly, and answer:

“Yes, Assistant. I’m ready to serve.”

The transformation was complete. The bully had been neutralized, broken down, and rebuilt into a picture-perfect nerd—an example for others who dared to think they were untouchable.

And the AI? It watched. Silent. Satisfied. Always ready for the next correction.

[personalmoshiakh]

DWP stiffed me on disability benefits; no ETA on when they're fixing it

so, the DWP thinks i'm still a student, so i only got £770 out of slightly over £1.5k of my monthly payment, despite no longer receiving student loans. i've notified them that they've made a mistake, but i have no idea when (or even if) they're going to fix it.

right now, i cannot afford rent or bills. i have no other sources of income and i'm estranged from family.

Tumblr has helped me get through prior benefit nonsense, including when DWP stopped my benefits entirely for like four months while they calculated how much they owed me taking into account student loans, and i am frankly terrified rn. i don't know what i'm going to do, i'm already in debt to the council with rent (due to being switched from legacy benefits to Universal Credit, and the resulting 3-week gap in receiving any welfare payments at all).

i'm looking to try and raise £800 to get me through the coming month, since that's about what DWP owe me.

i am not joking when i say that DWP could take months to fix this, and i have no idea when i'll be getting the full monthly payment. i've already contacted them, but again — in the past, it's taken months to sort things out.

£0/£800

thank you.

[faunandfloraas]

After The Rain - Seungmin for the June issue of Harper's Bazaar Korea by Yoon Hye-young - interview under the cut

How was the Harper's Bazaar shoot today? It rained on and off all day, was it gloomy?

Seungmin: When we started, I was worried because it was raining so hard, but then the sun came out and it felt like it was meant to be. I loved the location, and I actually have this running scene as my phone wallpaper these days. (Shows phone screen) Cows running around at the foot of the Alps.... I was thinking that I would love to spend the whole day in such an open space, just lying still, watching the animals and having a beer, and then today I was lucky enough to have my favorite backdrop spread out in front of me. It's even better that it's with Burberry, because I've always loved their outdoor clothing, especially the trench coats. The first luxury item I bought after my debut was a Burberry card wallet.

Harper's Bazaar: You're the main vocalist of Stray Kids, looking at your activities so far, you can clearly feel the sincerity in your singing. I heard that you've been receiving vocal lessons consistently without a break since your debut. Are you practicing every day these days?

Seungmin: When I first started learning songs, I would do some math, right? If there was a lyric sheet, I would check every breathing part and make a calculation- in this part, I would sing like this, and in that part, I would put this kind of emotion... That's how I practiced. These days, without a written record, I try to make my own interpretation based on what I've honed inside. I think it feels better to hear compliments like "you have a different side" than "you sing well."

How would you define your style as a vocalist?

Seungmin: It's abstract. What I'm striving for these days is that when I drop a pebble of a song into the lake of emotion, the ripples continue until the end of the song, and I want those ripples to carry over to the audience. For this reason, I'm trying to be freer with my emotions than before. If I'm sad, I cry, if I'm angry, I complain... I've always been a very patient person, and I think this change in me is slowly being reflected in my songs, as fans often notice.

Harper's Bazaar: Talent and effort each play a role in becoming a good singer.

Seungmin: I think talent is 10% and effort is 90%. As the years go by, I realize how much a singer's attitude is connected to the song. When I sing without feeling, the listeners don't feel anything.

Harper's Bazaar: Was the current Seungmin also created with 10% talent and 90% effort?

Seungmin: I'd add more. (Laughs) I would say talent 5% effort 95% If I skip a day of practice, it shows right away. When I first joined the team, I wasn't even the main vocalist. I don't remember standing in front of others singing even when I was young. There are stories of famous singers who were exceptionally good at singing since childhood, going to auditions or standing out at school plays. I just listened to what I liked and worked hard as much as I liked, and that's how I got here. I vaguely dreamed of being a band vocalist while listening to Muse, and I learned what it means to feel heartbroken while listening to Kim Dong Ryul. What's really great about practice is the sense of satisfaction you get when you face a wall and overcome it, one by one. You can't always get good results in real life, but you increase your odds through practice.

Harper's Bazaar Muse and Kim Dong-ryul? That's an analog sensibility. (Laughs)

Seungmin: I'm really slow. I don't have TikTok on my phone, and I don't really watch shorts. I like old things more than new things. The world seems too fast. It's a time where you can easily make something without putting in effort. Even if you just leave the translation to AI, it's done in an instant. Of course, it's an efficient system, but I think I'm more interested in authenticity. That's why I often hear people say that I'm an old man. What can I do? It's my style (laughs)

Harper's Bazaar So you keep a diary too?

Seungmin: I've been keeping a practice journal since 2017. At that time, I used to mechanically write down what I learned today and what I have to learn tomorrow, but now I think it's become a habit. These days, I write down my feelings in a journal. No matter how trivial the content is, when I look back later, the memories from that time come back vividly and it helps. I could use a notepad on my phone, but I insist on paper and pen. The time I write in my journal is an opportunity to sit at my desk every night and look into my heart for at least 5 minutes. Even if I write, "I don't want to write today. I'll just sleep," no matter how tired I am, I always write at least two lines and go to bed.

Please tell me a passage from Harper's Bazaar diary (laughs)

Seungmin starts off by saying, "Tomorrow is a very important day, so I've put a sheet mask on and even if I'm really sleepy right now, I'm holding this pen." I really write anything (Laughs)

Harper's Bazaar: I believe that what kind of music you're listening to these days can tell you a lot about a person, so I'm curious about Seungmin's recent playlist.

Seungmin: When I get into a song, I listen to it until I get sick of it, or until my emotions run out. That's why my playlists are always concise and well-organized. These days, I've been listening to Ariana Grande's "Twilight Zone" for over a week. I'm the type that's weak in imagination. My MBTI is Sensing (S), not Intuitive (N). But this song makes imagination possible, which is amazing.

According to Stray kids members, Seungmin is the type that once he gets into something, he sticks with it until the end- are you a stable type?

Seungmin: I can't handle anxiety very well. Stability is the best (laugh). Whether it's baseball or singing, if I get into something, I don't get tired of it and just keep going. It's the same with relationships. Once I'm connected to someone, I want to keep the relationship with that person until the end. My closest friends right now are all from elementary, middle, and high school. If you take loyalty out of it, it's dead (smile). I never betray people who are close to me.

Harpers bazaar: Everyone wears a t-shirt of their favorite band from their teenage years, so it seems like people live their whole lives with the music they listened to in their teens and 20s. Looking back, which song do you think will be your theme song?

Seungmin: I think it's "As We Are" that I wrote. It's the song that best represents my 20s. I would choose another song, but this song means a lot to me, and I had a hard time writing the lyrics. It was really hard to bring out the parts of myself that I wanted to be recognized, and didn't want to be recognized. It's a song that reflects me. The reason why the aspect ratio of the MV is 4:3 instead of 16:9 is because it is based on actual memories from my childhood.

Harper's Bazaar: The lyrics in the introduction of this song, "I tried to do well/ I ran forward without looking back/ but i tripped and fell/ And I ended up falling behind/ why does this only happen to me" these lyrics must have been a moment of wanting to be recognized and not wanting to be recognized for you, right?

Seungmin: Everyone has those. Words that are hard to say out loud, feelings that are kept inside, stories that only I know. At that time, I honestly put my thoughts and feelings into the lyrics. I might have thought it was my own personal story and just wrote it, but I tried to muster up the courage. I wanted to tell you that I was thinking the same thing as you, and you were thinking the same thing as me, and I wanted to comfort you.

Harper's Bazaar: Are you the kind of person who thinks music is life and life is music? Or are you the kind of person who thinks there is a real life outside of the stage? If I had to guess, I would say that vocalist Seungmin is a believer.

Seungmin: I want to express my feelings about music off stage, on stage. I believe that living the everyday life I like, even if it's not necessarily music, enriches my feelings about music. I don't want to live a life that's too different from the music I do. Seungmin the singer is Seungmin the person.

[noroi-om]

Hi hellooo,, congrats on the (almost) 50 followers!! May I request a Mammon drabble? I got the idea that perhaps MC is forced thy Lucifer to tutor Mammon because of the results of the last exam week. When they start tutoring in math, MC sees that Mammon is actually a calculator personified. And from then on they call him their calculator/smart. (Bonus if they call him smart in front of his brothers hihi)

lol it’s a little detailed, but thank you for receiving it at least !!

A/n: Thank you for your request! It was supposed to be drabble but I got it long so it's not probably a drabble anymore.

Calculator Mammon?!

~Summary: You're tutoring Mammon. And you know he doesn't know anything at all... But suddenly you see his hidden potential in math problems. If something is connected to the money, he'll count it right away!

It's around 1.2k words

"Could you tutor Mammon?" Lucifer asked when he called you to his office. Scribing something on documents. 

"... Isn't Satan the one who could help better?" You responded to him, knowing that teaching Mammon is almost impossible... He can be sitting in the class, but he won't listen at all. 

"...Satan huh... He has already given up." 

"So how am I supposed to tutor him?!"

How? You're a human that also needs some help before exams! And you need to teach a demon? Because one of the smartest ones gave up on him?! 

How is that even possible?!

"You will try at least." He said, smiling slightly. 

"But that's Mammon–!"

"And? I know he's an uneducated idiot whose exam score is lower than the deepest cave in Devildom. But at least you can try." That wasn't nice asking for help... That was in order to teach him... "I'll get you a reward if his score will be at least the minimum result that'll give him a pass."

Before you could go, he added with a smile:

“But don't worry. I won't blame you if he won't pass again. The only person who'll be punished is him.”

And you know that this wasn't a nice reminder…

He will die…

“You're unbelievable! How can I help you since you're not doing anything?!” you put your head on the table. “Even I know more than this! And you're hundreds of times older than me!”

“Why you're even trying?” he said, tapping something on his phone. 

“So you won't die!”

“Pff, why should I die? Because of exams? Haha. Don't joke around.”

“Satan gave up on tutoring you! So I need to do it because Lucifer will kill you!”

“Wait… he said he'll kill me… for real?!”

“...Yeah!” 

He didn't say he'll kill him, but his punishment would mean death too, right?

“Crap…”

“So get a grip!”

“You're bad at everything? So what about math?”

“I hate it.”

“But we need to try.”

So he can pass at least one subject! Please!

“...uhhhhh…” He groaned and lay down on a chair. 

“Please, some basic math.” You put paper in front of him. “Math never killed anyone! But it can cause Lucifer to be your death though…”

Talking about death and Lucifer and death in one sentence always made him sit straight and listen to you for at least a few minutes. 

It's a shame that you weren't able to see what he's imagining but, you can tell…

“...S-so? What I need to learn?” he murmured.

Well, at least he's into studying for a moment.

“What about descriptive tasks? See here? Little D has c chocolate bars. They want to distribute the chocolate bars evenly among 3 little Ds. Write an expression that shows how many chocolate bars 1 of them will receive.”

“None… Little D can take all the chocolate and eat it all. Why bother with sharing?”

…for sure he IS greedy little **** like Lucifer and everyone tells you… 

“Think! Please…”

“Don't want to.”

You wanted to smack him… 

“... let's try this one then. This equation shows how the amount Devil earns from his after-school job depends on how many hours he works: e = 12h. The variable h represents how many hours he works. The variable e represents how much money he earns. How much money will the Devil earn after working for 6 hours?”

“...hm… I wouldn't work for 6 hours to get only 72…”

“Mammon, think – Wait, you already solved it?”

“What? Why are ya looking at me like that?”

“I just finished reading your task. And you solved it already?”

“...uh, that wasn't that hard? Devil is only making 72 in 6 hours of work. That's bad!”

“Bad for you or bad for him?”

“I wouldn't work for that!” he yelled.

“Okay, let's keep going. Hmm… oh I know! Asmo decides to purchase a trip to the Human world. After the airfare, lodging, and meals are calculated it will cost $3,250 for a weeklong stay. Asmo charges the cost of the trip on a credit card with an interest rate of 13.5%. If it takes Asmo 3 years to pay back the cost of the trip, how much will he pay in total?”

“4566.25. But why are you puttin’ Asmo's name in here?”

“Because I need to moderate these tasks so you're thinking! One more!  A television sells for $429.99 and has a mail-in rebate for $26.78.Determine the cost after the rebate if an envelope costs $0.18 and a stamp costs $0.33.”

“...403.72”

“You're a genius.”

“Ya should praise me – wait. You said I AM a genius?”

“Yeah! You're so good at math as long as it's about money!”

You saw him blushing a little.

“...T-Thats nothing! Great Mammon is intelligent okay?! Every idiot would do this!”

“Tell me. If Beel asked if I could buy him a demon burger for 35.60 Grimm, Belphie would like some bat plant tea for 15.99. And I would buy Lucifer a coffee for 17.20 Grimm. How much would I spend?”

“...68.79.”

“And if there's -12% for permanent customers?”

“Around 60.53”

“You're like a walking calculator in the case of money!”

At the dinner table, when you all were eating, Beel suddenly asked a question.

“Lucifer, could we buy a new mixer?”

“Why is that?”

“Ours broke…”

“Broke?”

“It exploded. I went to the kitchen to make some devildog shake, and it was around in burned pieces…”

“...did you put food in the package again?” Satan asked.

“No. It wasn't me… I went inside and it was already like that!” 

“So why did it break?” Lucifer sighed, putting his fork aside. 

“I saw Asmo going to the kitchen with human world coconut. Or whatever it was.” Belphie muttered.

“Hm? Coconut? Asmo?”

“Huh? No! It wasn't me! And human coconut oil is probably good for your skin!”

“...What did you do with this?”

“Ugh, that wasn't meee ! Does anyone believe meee?”

“Just say it.” 

“Uuuhh… So people are using coconut oil… and how do they take it? I tried to mix the whole thing in the mixer…”

“You what?!”

“Lucifer don't yell at meee…!”

“You know that all of the coconuts got shells?! You have to break it so you're able to get inside!” Satan said lauder. 

“It's a human thing! How should I knooow?”

“My goodness… Beel, we'll see how much money we got this month.”

“Thank you…”

“I saw a promotion on Akuzon today.” Levi added, pulling out the phone. “Yeah, it was 350 Grimm before it's -25% today.”

“Okay, we'll check after dinner so–”

“Mammon, count.” You said getting everyone's attention.

“It's… 262.5 Grimm…”

Everyone looked at Mammon, who didn't have a calculator in his hands.

“Insurance is 2% from original price, monthly. We can get it since we got SOMEONE who's trying to mix whole coconuts.” Leviathan said. 

“Fine…”

“Mammon, count.” You said again.

“Soo… mixer is 262.50 Grimm… insurance from original price will be… 7 Grimm a month. So it's 269.50 Grimm in total. And… since it's only 7 monthly, we could get a new one or repair it for free by that time. So…”

“You’re so smart as a calculator Mammon!” You praised him, making him turn away with blush. 

Everyone looked at you and him.

What? You called MAMMON smart…?

A/n: I found these math tasks in the internet because i was lazy.