#................... nope. guess who handled that too

[pidges-lost-robot]

The episode where Lance's Lion gets taken except they take Lance too and he has to get out and for some reason the only plan they have is having Keith in Yellows Mouth as they desperately try to catch up with them and they have to do the scene from The Runaway Bride from Doctor Who cause Lance absolutely does not trust Keith will catch him

And later Hunk yells at him cause he's known Lance a while and there's no way with the trust issues he displayed at the very beginning that he wouldn't have kept his beady eyes trained on Lance so it ended up with Lance having to track Rolo instead and they have to switch up their plan

[rubiesintherough]

.

[starpros-sunshine]

I think the reason I'm so uncomfortable in conversation with cis men is because in my life the image I've grown up with is that from the American movies and while there's so much to be said about how women in those are basically objects or exclusively love interests or just Really Really forgettable I feel like there's also something to be mentioned about how most of these men are all the same pseudo-tough-guy character that's cool and suave and sexy and the only emotion he's capable of is nonchalant banter (it feels worth mentioning that the American movies I'm referring to are all from the last century I have no idea if that's changed in these last years but a gut feeling tells me no) and I also barely talk to the guys from my grade so the result of kind of growing up with that is that I just genuinely can not imagine real cis men with a complex inner emotional landscape. Maybe this is also an empathy thing but I genuinely can not imagine most cishet guys doing normal people things in their free time that aren't gaming or going to the gym or...idk. making music too I suppose. It's quite comical really but I just can not imagine cishet men with interests or doing stuff like having crushes and it's so strange because I know for a fact I am generally speaking not a sexist person but this little tidbit of apparently just not being able to view cishet men as normal people? Can't get that to go away even if I logically know it's silly. There's a point in this post about how toxic masculinity is a huge issue and affects even those not affected by it and runs really really deep or whatever but I'm too tired to coherently put it together. On the positive side now I get really happy when I see men online talk about how much they love their wives and all that because it's like "wow! Crazy you really are just a normal dude and not some James Bond knock-off like I thought every cishet man was supposed to be! Thank god!"

[jade-curtiss]

It's never okay to run away from your problems. Especially when they're no longer relevant and just thoughts you're stuck with. Instead of drinking have you considered facing things that aren't even there?

[seospicybin]

COCKY.

CHAPTER II.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Chapter I

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself. (19,8k words)

Author's note: Hope you can handle the amount of cockiness in this one. Pls share your thoughts on it after, enjoy ♡

As you step into the lab this morning, you expect a normal start to your day—running tests, reviewing reports, maybe dealing with Jane’s ongoing stress about her own project. But as soon as you walk in, you realize something is off.

There’s a man standing in the middle of the room, casually looking around as if he belongs there. You pause for a second, taking him in—he’s effortlessly handsome, with sharp, playful eyes that hold a spark of mischief. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he just ran a hand through it. The confidence in his posture is undeniable, his toned frame draped in a worn-out leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt. When he notices you, his lips curl into a smirk that suggests he’s already enjoying himself.

He notices you before you can say anything, turning to face you fully. A slow smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he offers his hand.

"Finally, I was starting to think I had the wrong lab," he says with a playful lilt to it.

You straighten your shoulders, keeping your expression neutral as you carefully ask, “I'm sorry but who are you?”

“Han Jisung,” he introduces himself, his voice smooth and teasing as he holds his hand out at you. “Your new test subject.”

You blink. Of all the things you expected today, this was definitely not one of them. You shake his hand briefly, noting the warmth of his grip before pulling away. “Right. Thanks for coming in.”

He chuckles, tilting his head as he studies you. “Not the reaction I was expecting. Do all your test subjects get this warm welcome, or am I special?”

You keep your professionalism intact, offering a polite but firm smile. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Han takes a seat across from you, draping himself over the chair like he’s settling in for an entertaining conversation rather than a clinical interview. You step over to the counter and grab a disposable cup, filling it with the freshly brewed coffee that had been keeping you company all morning.

“Here,” you say, placing it in front of him as you take a seat across from him at the cold lab table.

He raises a brow, lifting the cup to his lips. “Well, this is already better than most first dates.”

You roll your eyes but don’t entertain the comment. “Before we begin, let me explain what we’re doing today. This session is purely an interview. We’ll go over your medical history, habits, and other necessary details to make sure you’re a suitable candidate for testing the product.”

Han takes a slow sip, eyes locked onto yours over the rim of the cup. “So no hands-on testing today?”

“Not today,” you confirm with an easy chuckle.

He hums thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll just have to be patient.”

You choose to ignore that and pick up your clipboard, clicking your pen. “Alright, let’s start with some basic questions. Your full name?”

“Han Jisung,” he replies smoothly.

“Age?”

“Twenty-four,” he says. “But if you’re into older guys, I can lie.”

You hold back a sigh and move on. “Occupation?”

“Sound engineer. Freelance.”

“Are you sexually active?”

A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. He leans in slightly, resting his elbow on the table. “Oh, absolutely.”

You keep your face neutral. “Care to elaborate?”

He shrugs. “I believe in keeping things… consistent. And exciting.” His eyes sweep over you, lingering just a second too long. “What about you?”

You ignore him and move to the next question. “Do you smoke?”

“Nope.”

“Drink?”

“Socially,” he answers, then tilts his head. “I’m assuming you need all this info for the test, but if you wanted to get to know me, you could’ve just asked me out.”

You manage to keep your composure, offering him a mild, unbothered look. “You volunteered for this, remember?”

“I did,” Han nods, looking satisfied. “And now that I’m here, I think I made a great choice.”

You exhale through your nose, choosing to move on rather than feed into his antics. “Do you have any known allergies?”

His lips curve into something wicked. “Not to latex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

This is going to be a long interview. You mutter inside your head.

A few moments later, you glance down at your clipboard, double-checking that you’ve gone through all the necessary questions. With a satisfied nod, you set your pen down and look up at Han, who’s been watching you with an amused glint in his eyes the entire time.

“That’s all for the questions,” you inform him, maintaining your professionalism. “Before we wrap up, do you have any questions about the test?”

Han taps his fingers against the coffee cup, pretending to think. “So, just to be clear, my role in all of this is to… what? Try on the product and report back?”

You nod. “Yes. You’ll test for fit, comfort, durability, and overall performance. You’ll be given a log to record your experience each time you use it, including any issues you encounter.”

His lips twitch. “Experience, huh?”

You put on a small smile as you confirm with a nod. “Yes, experience.”

“And do I test it alone, or is that optional?” He leans in slightly, eyes dancing with mischief.

You keep your expression neutral. “That is entirely up to you.”

Han chuckles. “Noted.” He leans back in his chair, spinning the coffee cup between his fingers. “And how many times do I have to… test it?”

“Over a set period of time,” you explain patiently. “We’ll provide you with enough samples to use regularly and ask you to report back with detailed feedback.”

He hums in thought. “So, let’s say I’m a particularly… diligent tester. Does that mean I get extra credit?”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “There’s no extra credit.”

“No incentives for going above and beyond?” He places a hand over his heart. “I take my responsibilities seriously, you know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Your only responsibility is to provide accurate feedback.”

He nods sagely. “And I assume you’ll be the one reviewing my… reports?”

“Yes,” you reply, starting to regret that fact.

Han grins. “Well then, I’ll make sure to be very detailed.”

You glance at the clock and decide that’s enough of this. “If you have no further questions, I think we’re done for today.”

Han stretches his arms above his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Alright. But don’t be surprised if I come up with more questions later. I like to be thorough.”

Somehow, you already expected that. You clear your throat, pushing aside the unexpected tension his presence brings. Keeping your tone professional, you grab your clipboard and jot down a few notes before looking up at him.

“I’ll need you back here in two days for the next part of the test,” you inform him, maintaining eye contact. “Same time, same place.”

Han tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “Two days, huh?” he muses. “That feels like such a long wait.”

You exhale through your nose, unimpressed but amused. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

He hums, stepping back but not before letting his gaze linger on you for just a second longer than necessary. “Oh, I will. But still…” He takes a few steps toward the door, then turns back with a lazy grin. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

You roll your eyes but say nothing, watching as he finally exits the lab. As soon as he’s gone, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Just as Han reaches the door, he glances back at you with that same cocky grin. “I’ll bring coffee for our second date,” he teases, winking before stepping out.

Before you can even process a response, you hear Jane’s voice echo from the hallway. “Second date?”

Your head snaps up just in time to see her walking toward the lab, passing by Han, who gives her a playful nod before disappearing down the hall. Jane stops right in the doorway, her eyes flickering between you and where Han had just been standing.

You quickly shake your head. “It’s not—He’s just—It’s for the test.”

As soon as Han disappears down the hallway, Jane practically materializes at your side, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who was that?” she asks, tilting her head toward the direction Han had gone.

You hesitate, not wanting to give her more reason to pry, but you know Jane well enough to realize she won’t let this go. “A participant for my product test,” you answer simply, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her.

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Right. And why did he call your next session a ‘second date’?” She crosses her arms, her gaze sharp. “Because that doesn’t sound very… professional.”

You sigh, already regretting not shutting Han down the moment he started with his playful remarks. “He’s just… like that. He’s young, flirty—doesn’t take things too seriously. But he signed up for the test, and he qualifies, so I have to deal with him.”

Jane hums, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re sure he’s here for the test? Not just to hit on you?”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I doubt he went through the entire screening process just for that.”

Jane gives you a knowing look. “Mm-hmm. Well, you better be careful. That guy looks like trouble.”

You shake your head, brushing off her concern. “It’s just work, Jane. Nothing more.”

But as you replay Han’s words in your head—Can’t wait to see you again—you wonder if dealing with him is going to be more challenging than you expected.

-

The elevator doors slide open, and you step in with Jane by your side. She’s already mid-conversation, rambling about her weekend and the never-ending stress over her product’s approval.

“But enough about me,” she says, turning to you as the doors close. “What about you? Where did you go this weekend?”

You keep your expression neutral, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. “Nowhere special. Just stayed home, watched some movies.”

Jane squints. “That’s it? You didn’t go out? No dates? No fun?”

You shake your head, keeping your tone casual. “Nope. Just a quiet weekend.”

Before you can scramble for a better response, the elevator dings and the doors slide open again.

Chris steps in. He’s dressed sharp as usual and the knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips already tells you he heard the last part of your conversation.

You and Jane greet him, and he gives a polite nod in response before leaning casually against the corner of the elevator, his gaze flickering to you.

Jane faces the mirror walled one side of the elevator, fixing the smudged corner of her red painted lips, “Come on, you did nothing at all on the weekend? Not even a little adventure?”

You force a small laugh. “Nope. Just me, my couch, and Netflix.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice movement. Chris shifts slightly, and you swear you hear a quiet huff—like he’s holding back a laugh.

Jane doesn’t notice him—or if she does, she’s too focused on her interrogation. “Ugh, you’re so boring. At least tell me you had good takeout.”

You nod. “Yeah. Ordered some really... good food.”

Chris’ grin widens, and you glance at him briefly, catching the amused glint in his eyes. He’s enjoying this way too much.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor, and you practically rush out, eager to escape Jane’s questions and Chris’ silent teasing.

As the doors slide shut behind you, you exhale. You don’t have to turn around to know Chris is still grinning.

-

The morning is slow, the kind that lets your thoughts linger too long on things you shouldn’t be thinking about—like the weekend you spent tangled up with Chris in that hotel suite. It’s been days, but the memories keep creeping back at the worst moments, making your skin heat up and your mind wander.

You shake it off, focusing on your work. You have a second test with Han today, and while his flirty attitude during the interview was something you could handle, you’re bracing yourself for more of his antics. Then, a knock at the door.

You barely have time to look up before Chris steps inside, moving with that easy confidence of his—like he belongs wherever he goes. His suit is crisp, the top button of his shirt undone just enough to look effortless. His hands are in his pockets, his expression unreadable except for the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hard at work, I see," he says, voice smooth as ever.

You blink, caught off guard. "Chris? What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, stepping further in. "Can’t a product manager check in on his researcher?"

You narrow your eyes, already sensing his real reason for coming. "You don’t usually drop by unannounced."

Chris leisurely strolls around the lab, eyes scanning the workbenches. His gaze lands on a few product prototypes you’ve been testing, and suddenly, his lips twitch into a knowing grin.

"You know," he muses, picking up one of the silicone models, turning it over in his hand like he’s inspecting a fine piece of art, "I’m starting to think you have the best job in the company."

You sigh, already regretting letting him in. "Huh?"

"No, seriously," he continues, mock admiration in his voice as he gestures around the room, but his eyes drift towards the shelf full of dildos in all sizes. "I mean, most people deal with boring paperwork, sales reports, or, I don’t know, actual medicine. But you? You come to work every day and play with dildos."

You let out a low scoff. "I need them to test the products."

"For research, yeah, yeah, I got that," he says, nodding dramatically before setting the model down and turning to you with a teasing glint in his eyes. "So, be honest. Got a favorite?"

You shoot him an exasperated look. "Are you done?"

Chris tilts his head, pretending to think. "Not until you answer."

You cross your arms. "If I say yes, are you going to get jealous?"

He clicks his tongue, grinning. "Depends. Is it one of these, or…?" He lets the sentence trail off, his expression smug.

Your jaw drops at his implication, heat rushing to your face. "Oh my God—Chris!" You reach for the nearest pen to throw at him, but he dodges effortlessly, laughing.

"Relax," he says, still chuckling. "I’m just making sure you’re not out here conducting research without me."

"Do you have any actual work-related questions, or are you just here to waste my time?" you snap, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Chris leans against the counter, watching you with amusement. "Bit of both."

Before you can think of a comeback, the door swings open again.

"As promised, I bring coffee for the second date," Han announces, stepping in with a confident grin, two cups in hand. His dark eyes glint playfully as he holds one out to you.

The shift in the air is instant. You feel it immediately—the weight of Chris’s gaze, the ease of Han’s presence, the way you’re suddenly caught between them.

Chris raises an eyebrow, slow and deliberate, before turning to you. "A second date, huh?"

Han, seemingly unbothered, strides right up to you and places the coffee in your hand. "Figured you’d need the energy for today’s test." Then, he glances at Chris, tilting his head. "Oh, hey, man. You her boss or something?"

Chris doesn’t blink. "Or something."

You clear your throat, shifting slightly as you take the coffee Han hands you. “Chris, this is Han Jisung. He’s a participant for the product test.”

Chris’s gaze flicks over to Han, assessing him with a cool, unreadable expression. “Is that so?”

Han, completely unfazed, grins. “Yep. Here to lend a helping hand… or, well, something else.”

You nearly choke on your coffee. Chris, on the other hand, merely exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks back at you. “You sure know how to pick them.”

You glare at him, then turn back to Han. “And Han, this is Chris Bang. He’s the product manager overseeing my research.”

Han hums, giving Chris a once-over before offering a lopsided smile. “Nice to meet you, man.”

Chris, still watching him closely, finally nods and shakes his hand. “Likewise.”

There’s a beat of silence, the air thick with an odd mix of curiosity and challenge, and you’re already regretting having them in the same room together.

Han is the first to break it, turning back to you with a bright expression. “So, where are we doing this? Should I start getting undressed, or—?”

Chris chokes on absolutely nothing. You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Han,” you say, forcing yourself to keep your voice level, “we are not doing that now.”

“Right, right, interview first. Got it,” Han says, completely unbothered. He pulls out a chair and sits down, legs spread comfortably apart as he takes a sip of his coffee. “I’m all yours, then.”

Chris’s jaw ticks. You don’t miss the way his fingers twitch slightly against the counter.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Chris, do you need anything else?”

Chris finally tears his gaze away from Han, looking at you with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I think I’ve seen enough.”

He pushes off the counter and straightens his jacket. “I’ll leave you to your… work.”

You purse your lips as he heads for the door. But just before stepping out, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours, holding them for a moment too long.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he simply says, “Enjoy.”

And with that, he’s gone. You exhale a long air, shoulders sagging.

Han whistles lowly. “Your boss has a real intense vibe, huh?”

You shoot him a look. “Just drink your coffee.”

Han grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

And with that, you steel yourself for what’s to come. Because if that tension was any indication… things are about to get a lot more complicated.

-

You lead Han down the hall to the testing room, the fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. He follows beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, exuding an easy confidence that makes it clear he’s enjoying this just a little too much.

“So, what’s the plan?” Han asks, throwing you a playful glance. “Are we finally getting to the hands-on part?”

You quietly sigh but keep walking. “First, we need to take your measurements.”

He stops in his tracks, then dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Wow. You don’t even take me out to dinner first?”

You sigh, pushing open the door to the testing room and gesturing for him to step inside. “Get in, please.”

The room is sterile and professional, with a small examination table and a set of measurement tools neatly arranged on the counter. You walk over to your clipboard, flipping through the necessary paperwork.

Han looks around, then smirks. “So, what’s next? Do I need to, uh… strip down?”

“Not completely,” you pull a folded medical gown from the drawer and hand it to Han. “Here, put this on,” you instruct. “I’ll step out to give you some privacy.”

Han takes the gown but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you an amused look. “Privacy? Didn’t we just establish that you’ll be seeing all of me anyway?”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “Just put it on, Han.”

He chuckles but doesn’t argue, and you step outside, closing the door behind you.

You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself for whatever antics he’s going to pull. After waiting a reasonable amount of time, you knock before re-entering. And of course—he’s standing there, completely naked.

Your eyes widen for a split second before you whip your head up to meet his gaze. “Han!”

He grins, making absolutely no effort to cover himself. “What? You said you needed to take measurements, right?”

Your grip tightens around your clipboard. “I also gave you a gown for a reason.”

He shrugs. “Figured we’d just cut to the chase. Efficiency and all that.”

You exhale sharply, willing yourself to stay professional. He really is the type to do things as he pleases so you may as well just do things his way.

"Fine," you mutter. "Let's just get this over with."

Han’s grin stretches wider, clearly pleased that you’re going along with it. “See? Now we’re talking.”

As much as you try to stay professional, it’s impossible not to notice just how well-built Han is. His broad shoulders taper down into a dainty waist, his physique lean yet toned, the kind that suggests he takes care of himself but doesn’t overdo it. His skin is smooth, save for the ink that decorates his body—tattoos etched along his shoulder and ribcage, the dark lines contrasting against his complexion.

You swallow, quickly refocusing on your task, but the thought lingers—he is right to be this confident. He has every reason to be.

Han catches the flicker of your gaze, his smirk deepening. “Like what you see?”

You scoff, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

He hums, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure, sure. But if you ever want to look a little longer, I won’t mind.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress the heat rising to your cheeks. “Just stay still, Han.”

You shift your focus on the task at hand. Professional. You need to stay professional. You put on latex gloves and grab your measuring tape before kneeling slightly to get the proper angles, avoiding looking anywhere unnecessary.

As you begin taking measurements, you comment, “You seem pretty confident about all this.”

Han smirks, raising his arms and folding them behind his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You put the end of the measuring tape against his pubic bon and gently lift length for a good measurement in its flaccid state. You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Most people would at least be a little nervous. This isn’t exactly an everyday situation.”

He chuckles. “I’m not most people.”

You shake your head, suppressing a laugh. “Clearly.”

Han watches as you put the measuring tape around his cock to measure his girth, his gaze amused and curious. "What about you? You nervous?"

You scoff, keeping your attention on the measurements. "Why would I be?"

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Well, you are taking measurements of a very naked, very handsome man."

You snort at that but decide not to answer him, you get up to jot down the numbers on the clipboard. Once you finish, you keep your tone as professional as possible as you inform the next step. "I need to take your measurements when you're fully erect."

Han raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "Oh? And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

You blink at him, already regretting your choice of words. "That's… up to you," you say, quickly looking away.

He tilts his head, watching you with amusement. "You could help me, you know." His voice is playful, but the way he watches for your reaction tells you he's testing boundaries.

You refuse to take the bait, your expression carefully neutral. "There are some, uh, magazines in that drawer if you need them. And you can use the office tablet to… browse whatever helps."

Han’s grin widens as he leans slightly forward. "Oh? Thoughtful setup. Did you pick the selection yourself?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to let him get under your skin. "Just do what you need to do."

Han chuckles, stretching his arms above his head, utterly unbothered by his nakedness. "You sure you don’t want to stay? Might be more efficient with some assistance."

You give him a sharp look before turning toward the door. "I’ll give you a moment."

As you walk out, you hear him laughing behind you. "Just saying... You’re missing out on a great show."

A few minutes pass before the door swings open, and Han leans against the frame, fully exposed, his usual playful smirk in place. And his cock is... well, fully erected.

“So,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Erect enough for you?”

You scoff in disbelief despite the heat creeping up your neck. He’s obviously enjoying this way too much. Without a word, you grab your measuring tape and step back into the room, motioning for him to stand still.

Han watches you with amusement as you kneel slightly to take the measurements, his confidence completely unshaken. “I gotta say, I’m impressed by your professionalism,” he muses. “Most people would be flustered by now.”

You shoot him a look, jotting down the numbers on your clipboard. “I work in research. This is just another data point to me.”

Han chuckles, low and knowing. “Sure it is.”

You continue with the measurement, doing it all over again and noting down the numbers with practiced professionalism. Han watches you expectantly, his cocky smirk never fading.

“So?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement. “Are you impressed?”

You don’t respond, keeping your eyes on the clipboard as you jot down the details. But deep in your mind, a thought lingers— Chris is still bigger.

You push the thought away immediately. This isn’t about comparisons. This is research. Purely professional.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up. “Alright, we're done with the measurements,” you say, keeping your tone neutral.

Han grins, clearly entertained by your lack of reaction. “Didn’t expect you to be so shy,” he teases as he finally reaches for the gown.

“I’m not shy,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

You move on to the next part of the test. You grab a sample from the prototypes you brought with you, tearing the packet open and handing the condom to him.

“Go ahead and put it on,” you instruct, stepping back to give him space.

Han takes the condom with a smirk, rolling it over himself with ease. But as it stretches around his girth, you immediately notice the strain. He shifts slightly, adjusting it with his fingers, and then raises an eyebrow at you. “This one’s a little tight,” he comments, his usual playfulness still present despite the slight discomfort.

You nod, already anticipating this. You grab another packet—this one a size bigger—and hand it to him. “Try this one instead.”

Han takes it and swaps out the first condom, rolling the new one on. His smirk deepens as he glances down at himself. “Ah, now this one fits just right,” he says with satisfaction. He looks up at you with that same teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re really thorough with this, huh?”

You ignore his playful tone, jotting down your notes. “That concludes the test for today,” you say, stepping back. “You can put your clothes back on.”

Han stretches his arms over his head, taking his time before reaching for his clothes. “Gotta say, this was probably the most interesting appointment I’ve ever had,” he muses, giving you a wink.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head as you turn away to give him some privacy. Han Jisung was going to be a handful—you could already tell.

-

Back in your lab, you hand Han a sleek black box with your company’s logo printed on it. “Here,” you say, placing it in front of him. “These are the samples for you to test on your own time.”

Han picks up the box with interest, inspecting it before lifting the lid. Inside, neatly arranged, are multiple packets of condoms. His gaze flickers over them, and then he looks at you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got quite the range here,” he comments. “How many sizes are there?”

You cross your arms. “We only manufacture three: large, extra-large, and extra-extra-large.”

Han’s eyebrows lift. “Damn. So no small or medium?”

“No,” you reply simply. “Our target consumers are people who require larger sizes. We’re focusing on comfort and proper fit.”

Han hums in understanding before his lips quirk up again. “And what size am I?” he asks, voice dripping with curiosity.

You glance at your notes, already knowing the answer. “Based on my calculations, you fall into the extra-large category.”

Han nods approvingly, seemingly pleased. But then, with a mischievous tilt of his head, he asks, “Do you have a participant in the extra-extra-large category?”

Your fingers twitch slightly, but you maintain a composed expression, even as your mind immediately conjures an image of Chris. You refuse to let your face betray your thoughts. “That information is confidential,” you say smoothly, flipping through your notes. “Now, let’s focus on your test.”

Han watches you for a beat, as if trying to read between the lines, but then he lets it go with a shrug. “Alright, boss,” he says playfully. “So what kind of feedback do you need from me?”

You clear your throat and straighten your posture, regaining full professionalism. “You’ll need to test the condoms in various conditions,” you explain. “Comfort, durability, sensation—any issues you experience, I want you to document them in detail.”

Han’s smirk deepens. “In detail, huh?” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hand. “So, if I have any… intense experiences, I need to let you know?”

You meet his gaze with a deadpan look. “Preferably without unnecessary embellishment.”

Han chuckles, sitting back. “Got it. No unnecessary details… unless you want them.”

You exhale sharply, deciding not to dignify that with a response. “Just be thorough,” you say, gathering your papers. “I expect a full report when you’re done.”

Han grins as he picks up the box again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be very thorough.”

As soon as Han walks out of your lab, a familiar voice pipes up from the doorway.

“Well, well, well,” Jane hums, arms crossed as she leans against the doorframe, watching Han’s retreating figure disappear down the hall. She turns back to you, a knowing smirk stretching across her face. “That was… interesting.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Don’t start.”

Jane strides in, plopping herself onto a stool across from you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting.” She tilts her head. “So… new participant?”

You glance at the door before nodding. “Yeah. Han Jisung. He’s, uh, testing the product now.”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Testing the product, huh?” She leans in with a teasing grin. “That’s funny, because from where I was standing, it looked like he was testing you.”

You exhale sharply, shooting her a look. “He’s just flirtatious. That’s how he is.”

Jane clicks her tongue. “Mmm-hmm. And you’re totally unaffected?”

You pause, then shake your head. “I don’t have time for distractions. I need to focus on finalizing the product.”

Jane hums, still grinning. “Sure, sure. But you do realize he was flirting with you, right?”

You sigh. “Obviously.”

“And you were kind of flirting back.”

“I was not.”

Jane laughs. “Please. If that was you being professional, I’d hate to see what happens when you actually flirt with him.”

You rub your temples again. “This conversation is over.”

Jane just smirks. “Fine, fine. But I’ll be keeping an eye on this little situation. Purely for scientific curiosity, of course.”

You roll your eyes, waving her off. “Go do your own research.”

Jane chuckles as she stands. “Oh, don’t worry. I am. But this? This is way more fun to watch.”

As Jane disappears down the hall, her teasing words linger in your mind. You exhale, turning back to your work, but your fingers hesitate over your notes.

Was I really flirting back?

You replay the conversation with Han in your head—his easy confidence, the way he grinned at you, how effortlessly he turned every exchange into something playful. You had brushed it off, keeping your responses neutral, professional… or at least, you thought you had.

But if Jane noticed something—if she thought you were flirting back—did that mean Han thought so too?

You shake your head and mutter to yourself, “I was just doing my job.”

Still, as you force yourself to refocus, a nagging thought creeps in. What if everyone else thinks otherwise?

What if Chris thinks otherwise?

-

The morning feels heavier than usual as you step into the elevator, half-hoping for a quiet ride up. But when you look up, you see Chris standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression calm and collected.

Your stomach tightens. You haven’t really spoken to him since Han walked in on you both in your lab. That moment still lingers in your mind—the way Chris had looked at you, how he had casually gone along with the introduction while Han had stood there, grinning like he knew something you didn’t.

Now, standing beside Chris in the enclosed space, you don’t know whether you should be the first to speak. The silence stretches between you, only filled by the soft hum of the elevator.

Then, Chris breaks it. “Are we still doing it?”

The bluntness of his words makes you stiffen, caught off guard. You glance at him, but his gaze remains on the elevator doors, as if this is just a casual inquiry.

You regain your composure and answer steadily, “As long as you still want to participate, then yes.”

Chris nods, but there’s something contemplative in his expression. “When’s the next test, then?”

“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” you say.

He doesn’t even hesitate before saying, “I have time this weekend.”

You nod, immediately agreeing, though you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picks up. “Alright. This weekend, then.”

At that, Chris finally turns his head to look at you. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, like he wants to say something else—but then the elevator dings.

The doors slide open to your floor. You take a step forward, stealing a glance back at him. He’s still watching you.

Forcing yourself to keep it professional, you nod. “Have a good day.”

And then you step out, the doors sliding shut behind you, leaving Chris alone in the elevator.

-

You sit at your desk, staring blankly at your laptop screen, but your mind is far from your work. Instead, it’s replaying the interaction you had with Chris in the elevator earlier.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary—just a simple conversation about the next test. So why are you overanalyzing every second of it?

Maybe it was the way he asked, a little too quickly, as if he was eager. Or maybe it was the way he turned to you, like he had something else to say but didn’t get the chance.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. Get a grip.

Before you can spiral any further, the lab door bursts open, and Jane comes rushing in.

“We did it!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Before you can even react, she throws her arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug.

“My product got the green light!” she nearly screams, pulling back to grab your shoulders and shake you slightly. “Mass production is happening! This is real!”

Your brain catches up to her words, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. “Jane, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“I know, right?” She bounces on her heels, barely able to contain herself. “All those late nights, all that reformulation—it actually paid off!”

“I never doubted it for a second,” you tell her sincerely.

She grins, but then her eyes narrow slightly. “Wait, why do you look so calm? You should be freaking out with me!”

You chuckle. “I think you’re doing enough freaking out for both of us.”

She swats your arm playfully before sighing dramatically. “Ugh, I just—God, I can’t believe it. You’ll be next, you know.”

At that, your smile falters just slightly. The reminder of your own product’s pending status brings back the weight of your own stress. But you push it down, focusing on her excitement instead.

“I hope so,” you say lightly. “But for now, let’s just celebrate your win.”

Jane beams at you, still buzzing with energy. “Oh, we’re celebrating. Drinks after work. No excuses.”

You shake your head, amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

The bar is lively, filled with laughter and conversation as Jane’s entire research team celebrates their success. You sit at the high-top table, nursing your drink while Jane recounts every stressful moment leading up to her product’s approval.

“I swear, I thought I was going to throw up when I opened the email,” she says, shaking her head dramatically.

“Honestly, I thought you did throw up,” one of her team members chimes in, making the group laugh.

You smile, but your mind isn’t entirely present. You’re still caught up in the events of the day—Chris in the elevator, the way he was looking at you like he had more to say, the way you overanalyzed it all afterward.

And just as if your thoughts summon him, the bar door opens, and in walks Chris.

Your body stiffens slightly at the sight of him. He scans the room, quickly spotting your table, and strides over. His presence is magnetic as always, his sleeves rolled up just enough to tease his forearms, and his signature easy grin already in place.

“Look who decided to join us!” Jane announces, nudging your arm. “I invited him since, you know, he is the product manager.”

You glance at her, noting the sly glint in her eyes. “Just that?” you ask, keeping your voice casual.

Jane feigns innocence. “Of course! What other reason would there be?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but before you can say anything, Chris pulls up a chair next to you, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

“Hope I’m not too late,” he says, flagging down the waiter for a drink.

“Nope, we’re just getting started,” Jane assures him, shooting you a quick glance before turning back to her team.

You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake off the suspicion creeping up your spine. Because despite Jane’s nonchalant attitude, you can’t help but feel like there’s more to her invitation than just acknowledging Chris’s role as the product manager.

And by the way Chris is sitting comfortably beside you, his knee brushing against yours under the table the whole night, you get the feeling you’re right to be suspicious.

Jane, already a little tipsy, is in full celebration mode. She waves down the waiter and orders another round for everyone, grinning as she slides a fresh drink in front of you.

"Come on," she nudges you. "You have to keep up tonight."

You sigh but take a sip, knowing there's no point in arguing when Jane is in this mood.

The night continues with laughter and drinks, and one by one, the rest of Jane’s team heads to the dance floor, leaving just the three of you at the table. Jane is leaning back in her chair, lazily swirling the ice in her glass as she suddenly turns her attention to Chris.

"So, Product Manager Chris Bang," she drawls, tilting her head at him. "Why have you been calling her to your office so many times lately?"

Chris, mid-sip of his drink, pauses just slightly before setting his glass down. He glances at you briefly, amusement flickering in his eyes before turning back to Jane. "Work, obviously," he says smoothly.

Jane snorts. "Work? Really? You, the Chris Bang, personally following up on a single research project so often? I don’t buy it."

You shoot her a look. "Jane—"

"What? I’m just curious!" she says, throwing up her hands. "If you guys have, I don’t know, a thing going on, you could just tell me."

Chris lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers tapping against his glass. "A thing, huh?"

You glare at Jane, your heart hammering in your chest. She was not supposed to be this perceptive. "You do realize he's our boss, right?" you say, attempting to sound unimpressed.

"Uh-huh," Jane says, clearly unconvinced.

Chris leans back in his seat, casually stretching his arm over the back of your chair. "Sounds like someone's had too many drinks," he teases.

Jane narrows her eyes at him. "Sounds like someone's avoiding the question."

Chris smirks but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he picks up his glass, taking another slow sip.

You grip your drink a little tighter, trying to play it cool, but the way Chris is not denying anything, the way he’s just letting Jane speculate—it’s making you very aware of how close he is to you right now. And by the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You quickly flag down the waiter again, determined to shift Jane’s attention away from whatever game she’s playing. “Another round?” you offer, plastering on your best innocent smile.

Jane’s eyes light up. “Now that’s the spirit!” She turns to Chris. “You better not let her drink alone.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts his glass. “I wouldn’t dare.”

It works. Jane gets caught up in the drinks and the celebration again, and for a while, the conversation drifts away from you and Chris.

Next thing you know, Jane is dragging you onto the dance floor. You’re buzzed, your body light, and for once, you let yourself just have fun. The music thrums through your veins, and you move with the crowd, letting the beat take over.

At some point, as you spin around, your eyes catch onto something—or rather, someone.

Chris is still seated at the table, leaning back comfortably with his drink in hand, but his eyes are on you. Watching. And when your gazes meet, he doesn’t look away.

A thrill runs through you. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder, more aware of the way his gaze lingers. You pretend not to notice at first, dancing as if he isn’t there, but deep down, you know you’re moving just a little more deliberately. A little more enticingly. And you like that he’s watching.

The moment stretches between you like a live wire, crackling with energy neither of you dares to name. And as if he can't stand being a mere watcher, Chris walks up to you. He steps in closer, pushed forward by the press of bodies around you, and instead of pulling away, he stays. The heat of his body radiates against yours, your breaths mingling in the dim, neon-lit haze of the bar.

You don’t speak, and neither does he—not at first. Instead, there’s only the exchange of glances, the slow drag of his eyes over you, the way your body naturally falls in sync with his. It’s almost too easy, too natural, the way he places a careful hand on your waist, guiding your movements subtly like he’s testing the waters.

And then, he leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice low and rough. “I can’t wait for the weekend.”

The words send a pulse of heat through you. You smirk, just enough to make sure he sees it before you tilt your head toward him, lips grazing the edge of his jaw as you murmur back, “Why wait until the weekend?”

You feel his sharp inhale more than you hear it. His grip on your waist tightens, a reaction he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Why not do it tonight?” you continue, letting the words drip slow and deliberate between you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression unreadable at first—surprised, maybe, but something darker flickers beneath it. Something intrigued. He doesn’t answer right away. But he doesn’t say no, either.

The moment the words leave your lips, there’s no taking them back. You don’t give Chris time to react before you’re tugging him through the press of bodies, weaving past dancing figures and clusters of coworkers lost in conversation. You make a beeline for your table, snatching up your bag in one smooth motion, and beside it, Chris’s neatly folded jacket. He barely has time to slip it from your grasp before you’re leading him out of the bar and into the cool night air.

Chris follows without protest, though his brows are still knit in confusion, his lips slightly parted like he’s trying to piece together what just happened.

But instead of heading straight for the curb, he gently tugs at your wrist, steering you into the narrow alley beside the bar. The dim glow of a flickering streetlamp barely reaches the space, but it’s enough for you to see the way he’s watching you—like he’s trying to read between the lines, trying to make sure.

“You really want to do this tonight?” His voice is quiet but firm, searching.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Chris exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he studies you. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I’m not drunk,” you counter smoothly. “Just… mildly intoxicated.”

His brow lifts at that, still unconvinced. You step closer, meeting his gaze, letting your voice drop to something softer, something more deliberate. “You told me to relax, didn’t you?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks but you press on, your fingers brushing the lapels of his jacket. “Maybe now that I’m fully relaxed…” Your lips curl slightly as your voice dips lower. “I can take you well this time.”

For a moment, there’s only the hum of the city around you—the distant pulse of music from the bar, the faint rush of passing cars. Then his eyes darken, a spark of something untamed flickering through them. He doesn’t say a word.

Instead, his hands find your waist in one swift motion, pulling you flush against him. And before you can tease him for his sudden silence, he spins toward the street, lifting an arm to hail a taxi, his grip on you firm and unwavering.

-

As soon as the two of you are on the backseat of a taxi, Chris wastes no time draping his jacket over your lap. A gentlemanly gesture, if not for the sly curve of his lips and the glint in his eyes when he turns to you.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” he murmurs, voice smooth, deliberate.

You barely have a second to process the weight of his words before you feel it—his hand slipping beneath the fabric, fingers gliding under the hem of your skirt with ease. The moment his palm presses against your clothed heat, a sharp jolt runs through you.

Chris watches you, eyes trained on your face, amusement dancing in his expression as you press your lips together in a feeble attempt to stay composed. The driver hums along to the low music playing on the radio, oblivious to the way Chris’s fingers trace teasing circles over the dampening fabric between your thighs.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he muses, voice barely above a whisper, meant just for you.

You shoot him a sharp look, but it’s hard to glare when your body betrays you, hips subtly shifting toward his touch.

Chris’s smile deepens. “You seemed so eager back at the bar. What happened?”

You grip his wrist under the jacket, not pushing him away, but just holding on—something to ground yourself as his fingers apply more pressure right on your clothed clit. The sensation is maddening, just enough to tease but not nearly enough to satisfy.

The taxi slows at a red light, and Chris leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t make me stop now.”

It’s a warning and a challenge all at once. You squeeze Chris’s wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t stop—if anything, the pressure of his fingers against your clothed heat intensifies.

"Shh," he whispers, lips grazing your ear. "Don't get us caught."

Easier said than done. Your thighs clamp around his hand instinctively, but Chris simply chuckles, using the limited space to his advantage, his fingers stroking lazy, torturous circles over the damp fabric.

Your breathing stutters. Every little movement feels like fire licking at your skin, and the worst part? The driver is completely unaware.

Chris shifts closer, his voice dipping lower, a teasing lilt in his tone. "You were the one who didn’t want to wait until the weekend," he murmurs. "But now you're struggling to keep quiet? What happened to all that confidence?"

You want to glare at him, maybe throw back a snarky remark, but when he presses a little harder—just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up your spine—you have to bite down on your lip to stop the sound threatening to escape.

Chris watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with amusement and something deeper—something possessive. His free hand brushes your cheek before he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so tender it contrasts the sinful way his fingers are working you under the jacket.

"You’re trembling," he notes, and there's that damn smirk again.

The taxi slows, and your heart nearly stops as the driver glances at you both through the rearview mirror.

Chris finally—finally—pulls his hand away, taking his time smoothing down your skirt as if nothing had happened at all. Then he leans in one last time, lips a breath away from your ear as he whispers, "Hope you're ready for what's next."

-

The moment the hotel room door clicks shut behind you, the air shifts. Gone is the restraint from earlier, the teasing and subtle touches—now, it's thick with something heavier, more urgent.

Chris tosses his jacket onto a nearby chair before turning to face you. His gaze sweeps over your form, eyes dark, filled with an unspoken hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

"You sure about this?" he asks, voice quieter now, less playful, but no less intense.

You step forward, closing the space between you. "I was the one who said not to wait," you remind him, your hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

Chris exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he lets his hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if grounding himself. "You really don’t like being patient, do you?"

You let his question linger in the air, unanswered but your fingers make quick work of his buttons, parting his shirt to reveal the toned muscles beneath. He lets you take your time, watching you with hooded eyes, but the moment your hands graze over his bare skin, his control seems to snap.

In one swift motion, Chris grabs your wrist, spinning you around so your back is pressed against the door. His body is warm against yours, caging you in, his breath fanning across your face as he leans in.

"You have no idea what you just started," he murmurs before claiming your lips in a deep, searing kiss.

With his muscular arms wrapped around you, he can easily steer your body, dragging you with him toward the bed until he plops down on the end of the bed.

You settle onto Chris’s lap, your back flush against his chest as his arms wrap around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, his breath fanning against the curve of your neck.

His lips find your skin, slow and deliberate, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, trailing up to the sensitive spot just below your ear. A shiver rolls through you, and he must feel it because he chuckles, low and pleased.

"You always get like this when I touch you," he murmurs, his fingers finding the first button of your shirt.

You don't answer, just let him work, feeling each flick of his fingers as he undoes one button, then another, until the fabric parts. His hands slide beneath the material, palms warm against your bare skin, tracing along your sides before gliding up to your shoulders, easing the shirt off.

It slips down your arms and onto the bed, forgotten. Chris hums in approval, his hands wandering, exploring—one skimming down your thigh, the other greedily palming on your breast, holding you in place as he continues his slow, torturous kisses.

"You’re always so tense," he muses, his lips brushing your ear. "I think I like you better like this… relaxed, pliant."

His hands roam, touching everywhere except where you crave him most, teasing, testing your patience. You shift slightly in his lap, pressing closer, and his grip tightens just enough to remind you—he’s in control of the pace and he's going to take his time.

Chris lets his fingers wander lower, tracing the edge of your skirt where it rests against your thighs. His touch is slow and gentle, but there’s a tension in the way he exhales against your neck, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“You won’t be needing this,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping under the hem.

You lift your hips just enough to let him slide the fabric down, and he takes his time, inch by inch, until it pools at your feet. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands as they skim over your bare thighs, tracing soft patterns, teasing.

He shifts beneath you, pulling you even closer against his growing bulge, and you feel the unmistakable proof of his arousal pressing into you through his pants. The realization sends a shiver through you, one that he catches instantly.

“Still relaxed?” he teases, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You don’t get a chance to answer before his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear. He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, dragging the fabric down slowly, his knuckles grazing your skin as he goes. The anticipation coils low in your stomach, your breath catching as you finally feel the cool air against your bare skin.

Chris lets out a quiet groan, his hands splaying over your hips as he pulls you even closer, his lips finding the curve of your neck again. “Perfect,” he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with something deeper, something reverent.

His hands roam, exploring, teasing, while his lips trail soft, lingering kisses down your shoulder, across your spine. Every touch, every whisper, sends warmth flooding through you, leaving you bare in every possible way.

Chris chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as you grab his hand and guide it between your thighs. His fingers brush against your heat, and he inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist.

"Impatient, mmh?" he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement, though his fingers don’t move just yet. Instead, he lets them rest there, just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy.

You shift slightly in his lap, pressing yourself against his hand, silently urging him to do something—anything—but he only smirks against your shoulder. "I like it when you ask nicely," he muses, his breath warm against your skin.

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, your body aching for more, but before you can say a word, he finally moves. A slow, deliberate stroke on your clit. Your breath catches, and he hums in approval, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

"That's better," he whispers, his fingers working you open with a practiced ease, pumping in and out of you.

Each movement is agonizingly slow, dragging out every sensation, as if he wants to take his time, to savor the way you react under his touch. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as you try to press yourself closer, seeking more.

Chris chuckles again, his fingers curling slightly, finding that spot that makes you tremble. "That’s it," he coaxes, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "Let me feel you."

And as his touch grows more insistent, as his lips trail down your neck, whispering praises into your skin, you realize just how much control he has over you in this moment—and how easily you’re willing to let him have it.

He shifts, his hands firm yet gentle as he lays you down against the plush hotel bed. The warmth of his body lingers on your skin, and for a moment, you almost forget yourself in the haze of anticipation.

But before you can get lost in it completely, you murmur, "The condom… it's in my bag."

Chris hovers over you, his lips curving into a small smile before pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth. "Good thinking," he muses, his voice low, thick with desire. He pulls away, stepping back to retrieve the condom.

As he stands at the end of the bed, the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across his toned frame, you take a moment to admire him. His body—broad shoulders, sculpted abs, muscles flexing with each subtle movement—holds a raw, effortless allure.

Gosh, Chris is beautiful.

His brows furrow slightly in focus as he tears open the packet, rolling the condom down his length with practiced ease. The sight alone sends another wave of arousal through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

Chris catches you staring, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Like what you see?" he teases, his voice playful, but there’s a flicker of something darker in his gaze—something knowing.

You don’t answer, but the way you bite your lip gives you away.

Chris lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbs back onto the bed, settling between your legs. "Let’s put it to the test, then," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips before capturing them in another slow, searing kiss.

He kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your bare skin as the two of you melt into the mattress. The heat between you is palpable, the slow press of his body against yours making every inch of you burn with anticipation. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, each kiss setting your nerves alight.

Then, he pulls back just enough to guide you onto your stomach before gently urging you onto your hands and knees. His touch is steady, reassuring.

"It’ll be easier this way," he murmurs against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses along your spine. "You won’t have to think too much. Just feel."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, swallowing back the nervous tension that had been lingering before. The warmth of his mouth trails down your back, each kiss making you more pliant, more eager.

Then, without another word, Chris aligns himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist as he slowly pushes his length inside you.

Chris grips your waist with steady hands, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against your skin as he slowly pushes inside. The stretch is intense, and he catches the way your fingers grip the sheets, your breath hitching.

"Does it hurt?" he murmurs, his voice low and careful.

You swallow hard, your body adjusting to his size. "Just… put in more," you whisper, wanting to get past the ache, wanting to feel all of him.

Chris exhales through his nose, his grip tightening slightly before he pushes in deeper, inch by inch, with the utmost caution. You bite your lip, willing yourself to relax, but the deeper he goes, the more overwhelmed you feel. Your body tenses.

"Wait—stop," you gasp suddenly. "That's too deep."

Chris halts immediately, his hands sliding up to your hips, grounding you. You take a shaky breath before glancing over your shoulder. "Are you all in?"

Chris tilts his head down to see his cock is only halfway in, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. "Not even close," he says, lips quirking into a smirk.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and a groan escapes you. "Fuck Chris! Why you have to be too big?" you mutter, frustration laced in your voice.

Chris chuckles, his hands smoothing over your skin in reassurance. "You’re cute when you’re like this," he teases, leaning over you. His breath fans against your cheek before he captures your lips in a deep, slow kiss, melting away your tension with each lingering touch.

He watches your expression closely, searching for any signs of discomfort, but when he sees the pleasure beginning to overtake the tension in your body, he pulls hid cock back slightly before thrusting into you again—deeper this time, but still careful.

A gasp leaves your lips, your body adjusting, the overwhelming stretch melting into something more intoxicating. The feeling of him inside you, filling you, sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. You grip the sheets beneath you, eyes fluttering shut as he finds a steady rhythm, each movement dragging bliss across your nerves.

Then it hits you—faster than you expected. Your body clenches around him, a moan slipping out as pleasure crashes through you. Chris immediately senses the shift, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he slows.

"Are you coming?" he asks, voice husky, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You nod, still trembling, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Do you want me to stop?" His voice is softer now, tinged with concern, but you shake your head frantically.

"No—" You exhale shakily. "It’s too good. Don’t stop."

Chris groans at your words, his hands sliding up your sides before pulling you back against him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, murmuring something too quiet to catch before he picks up his pace again.

This time, there’s no hesitation—only the raw need between you as your bodies move in sync. The pleasure builds steadily, the tension coiling deep within you as Chris thrusts into you, each movement drawing you closer, each moan swallowed into his heated kisses.

And then, all at once, you fall apart around him, pleasure surging through you as your body tightens and trembles against him. Chris follows soon after, a deep groan spilling from his lips as he reaches his own high, his arms locking around you as you both shudder through the overwhelming release.

For a moment, neither of you move, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then Chris presses a lingering kiss against the back of your neck, his grip on you loosening but still firm, as if he’s reluctant to let you go.

Chris slowly pulls out, his touch gentle as if he knows you’re still sensitive. A shiver runs through you at the loss of him, and you collapse onto the bed, catching your breath as you watch him.

Standing at the edge of the bed, Chris carefully rolls the condom off, inspecting it for a moment before tying it off and discarding it. It’s hard not to notice the way it’s stretched, the amount of his seed inside it making your stomach flip. He doesn’t say anything, just walks toward the bathroom, his bare form disappearing inside as you lay there, trying to process everything.

The distant sound of running water fills the room, and as your heartbeat slows, a strange clarity settles over you. You feel yourself sobering up—not enough to regret anything, but enough to realize the weight of the moment.

When Chris returns, wiping his hands dry with a small towel, he catches your gaze and smirks. “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up slightly. “I was just going to ask…” You hesitate, but then decide to just say it. “What do you think of the condom’s performance?”

For a second, Chris just stares at you—then he chuckles, running a hand through his messy hair. “Of course you’d get right back to work.” He exhales through his nose, his smirk softening as he joins you on the bed. “Well, it held up. No breakage, no slipping, even after how intense that was.” He gives you a pointed look, making heat creep up your neck.

You clear your throat. “That’s good.”

Chris hums, leaning back against the pillows. “Though I think you might need to test it a few more times before you finalize your product. Just to be sure.”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile on your lips betrays you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chris lets out a small sigh, stretching his arms before settling more comfortably against the pillows. “Since we both have work tomorrow, maybe we should stop talking about work and just get some rest.”

You nod, realizing how heavy your limbs feel now that the rush of everything has passed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

There’s a brief silence, just the sound of your breathing filling the dimly lit room. Then, Chris shifts slightly beside you. “Hey…” His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Is it okay if I cuddle you?”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected question. Of all things, you weren’t expecting him to ask that. But before you can even think about it, you find yourself nodding.

Chris doesn’t hesitate once he gets the answer he wants. He moves in closer, his warm, bare body pressing against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. The heat of his skin is comforting, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back oddly soothing.

You let out a quiet breath, melting into the warmth of him. His hand rests lightly against your stomach, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles there. Neither of you say anything, and you don’t need to. Slowly but surely, you feel your body relaxing, your eyelids growing heavy.

As you settle into his warmth, your body fully relaxing against his, you feel Chris nuzzle slightly into the crook of your neck. His breath is steady, slow, comforting.

Just as your eyelids start to droop, you murmur, “Goodnight, Chris.”

His arm around your waist tightens just a little, and you hear the faintest hint of a smile in his voice as he whispers back, “Goodnight.”

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet comfort between you lull you into sleep, tangled together in a way that feels dangerously natural.

-

The pale morning sun casts a warm glow on Chris’s pale skin as he fixes the cuffs of his shirt beside you. The atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable despite everything that happened last night—though the occasional brush of his hand against yours or the way his gaze lingers on you a second too long reminds you of just how close you had been mere hours ago.

As you slip on your shoes, you break the silence. “If Jane asks about us, just say I got too drunk, and you took me home. Keep it simple.”

Chris pauses, smirking as he tilts his head at you. “That’s the best excuse you could come up with?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s believable, isn’t it? Besides, you know how Jane gets.”

Chris chuckles, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer. “Oh, I do. Which is why I think she won’t buy it for a second.”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Chris.”

“Relax,” he grins, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I won’t say a word. Especially not to Jane.”

Satisfied, you exhale a small breath of relief, though his amusement at your paranoia doesn’t go unnoticed. As you both gather your belongings, preparing to leave the hotel, a thought lingers in the back of your mind—one that you refuse to entertain for too long. Because despite your best efforts to keep things professional, something between you and Chris has undeniably shifted.

-

You step into the office, keeping your head low as you make your way toward your lab, hoping to slip in unnoticed. But of course, Jane is already there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking equally exhausted.

“You’re late,” she grumbles, squinting at you.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I know. I feel like death.” You press a hand to your forehead for extra effect. “I’m seriously so hungover.”

Jane groans, rubbing her temples. “Tell me about it. I shouldn’t have ordered that last round.”

You nod quickly, going along with it. “Yeah, I think that’s what did me in too.”

Jane tilts her head, her suspicious gaze scanning you. “Wait… where did you even go after that? You disappeared.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your face neutral. “I got too drunk, and Chris helped me get home.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Huh?”

You swallow, keeping your expression casual. “Yeah, he was just being nice. You know, since he’s my boss and all.”

For a moment, Jane doesn’t say anything, her eyes assessing you like she’s trying to catch you in a lie. But before she can press further, someone from her team calls her name from down the hall.

Jane groans, rubbing her face. “Ugh, I have a meeting with the production team. Can't believe they make me sit through this with a headache.”

You nod, putting on your best sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

She sighs and starts walking away, but not before casting one last glance at you. “This conversation isn’t over.”

You force a laugh as you watch her go, exhaling in relief once she’s out of sight. You got off the hook—for now.

You put on your lab coat first before starting any work. You grab your notebook from your bag and flipping through it when a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

You glance up to see Han leaning casually against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee in one hand and a small white box in the other. His usual flirtatious grin is in place, his eyes glinting with mischief as he steps inside.

You exhale and put on a polite smile, already bracing yourself. “Good morning.”

He strides over and places the coffee and the box on your desk before pulling out a chair for himself. “I figured coffee alone wasn’t enough, so I brought cheesecake. Thought I’d spoil my favorite researcher a little.”

You raise a brow. “Bribing me now?”

He smirks. “If it works, then yeah.”

You sigh but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you open the box, revealing a neatly sliced cheesecake with a drizzle of caramel on top. It looks dangerously good.

“Alright,” you say, picking up one of the coffee cups. “I’ll accept it. But only because I skimped on breakfast.”

Han chuckles, watching as you take a small forkful of the dessert. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You shake your head at his antics before setting your fork down and flipping open your notes. “Let’s get to business.”

Han places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You mean we’re not on a date?”

You snort and skip on answering him. “Now, let’s continue the interview.”

His grin widens, but he sits back, sipping his coffee. “Alright, boss. Fire away.”

You take a sip of a coffee first while getting the questions ready and pull out your notes. “Alright, let’s get into it. How’s the product testing going?”

Han hums, stirring his coffee lazily. “Not bad. Feels good, fits well. No complaints so far.”

You nod, jotting that down. “And how many have you used?”

Han pauses mid-sip, then lowers his cup with a smirk. “Why? Are you keeping score?”

You sigh. “Just answer the question, Han.”

He shrugs. “Out of the eight packs you gave me? I’ve only used two.”

Your pen stills on the paper. “Two? That’s it?”

Han leans forward slightly, his smirk deepening. “Yeah. I’m saving some.”

You frown. “Why?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “For you, obviously.”

Your brain short-circuits for a moment before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Han—”

“I mean, it’d be unfair if I was the only one testing it, right?” he says smoothly, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you with amusement. “Wouldn’t you want firsthand experience?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is a professional study.”

He chuckles. “Sure, sure. But the offer stands.”

You shake your head, refusing to indulge him any further. “Moving on. Did you experience any discomfort?”

Han grins. “None at all. Though I wouldn’t mind testing the durability a bit more.”

You glare at him. “Stick to the questionnaire.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

You sigh, writing down his responses, pretending that your face isn’t heating up from his teasing. Despite it, you manage to finish all the questions you have for him. You glance at your notes, ensuring you’ve covered everything.

“Alright, I think that’s all for today,” you say, capping your pen. “I’ll see you next week for the final interview.”

Han leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, lips curving into a smirk. “That’s it?”

You raise a brow and put on a small smile. “That’s it.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Come on, we can’t end our third date like this.”

You roll your eyes as you remark once again. “It’s not a date.”

He tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I brought you coffee and cheesecake, didn’t I?”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, the lab door swings open, and Jane strides in. She stops abruptly, her eyes darting between you and Han, taking in the way he’s leaning in just a little too close, the amused glint in his eyes, and the way you’re trying very hard not to look flustered.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, crossing her arms.

You straighten up instantly. “Nope. Just finishing up his interview.”

Han, completely unbothered, flashes her a charming smile. “Oh, hey. You must be Jane.”

Jane narrows her eyes at him before shifting her gaze back to you, suspicion evident. “So… what exactly were you two talking about?”

Han grins. “Just planning our next date.”

You groan. “Han.”

Jane’s eyes widen in intrigue, a slow smirk forming on her lips. “Oh? Is that so?”

You shoot Han a warning look, but he just winks at you before standing up and grabbing his coffee. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” he says smoothly. “See you next week.”

Jane doesn’t let Han’s exit stop her. Instead, she steps further into the lab and plops down in the chair across from you. “So,” she drawls, “third date, huh?”

You rub your temples. “Don’t encourage him.”

But Jane ignores you, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she turns toward the door Han just walked through. “Hey, Han!” she calls out.

He peeks his head back in, coffee in hand, looking amused. “Miss me already?”

Jane smirks and reaches into her bag, pulling out a sleek black invitation. “Why don't you come to the launch party for my product this Friday night? It’s going to be fancy, lots of people from the company, free drinks. Since you’re so keen on taking my friend on dates, why don’t you make this your fourth?”

Han raises a brow, glancing at you. “A formal date, huh?” He grins, looking back at Jane. “I like the way you think.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this now.

Han walks over and takes the invitation from Jane’s hand, flicking it between his fingers as he gives you a look filled with playful intent. “Guess it’s true what they say,” he muses. “Love finds a way.”

You groan. Jane cackles. And Han? Han just winks before strolling out of the lab, leaving you to wonder how exactly you ended up in this mess.

-

Friday night arrives, and the venue is buzzing with energy. The event hall is decorated with elegant lights, the clinking of glasses and soft hum of music filling the air. The launch party is in full swing, employees mingling with industry professionals, celebrating her achievement. You arrive dressed appropriately for the occasion, nursing a glass of champagne as you navigate through conversations.

As soon as you spot Jane across the room, you make your way through the crowd, champagne flute in hand. She’s in the middle of a conversation with a few colleagues, but when she sees you, her face lights up with excitement.

“There she is!” Jane exclaims, excusing herself from the group to pull you into a quick but tight hug. “You made it!”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. “Of course, I did! There was no way I’d miss your big night.”

Jane pulls back, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Can you believe it? After all the late nights, the revisions, the stress—it’s finally happening. The product is officially launched!”

You smile, genuinely happy for her. “And you deserve every bit of this. You worked your ass off for this moment.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her chest. “I really did, didn’t I? God, I need more champagne.”

You chuckle and clink your glass against hers. “To your hard work paying off.”

Jane grins. “To both of us. Your product is next, you know.”

You shake your head, sipping your drink. “One step at a time.”

“Psh, please,” Jane scoffs. “You’re basically a genius in your field. It’s only a matter of time.”

Before you can argue, she suddenly gasps and grabs your arm. “Wait, wait—look who just walked in.”

You follow her gaze toward the entrance, and sure enough, Han is making his way through the crowd, dressed in a fitted suit that makes him look a little too good for your liking.

Jane smirks. “Guess you really did get yourself a date tonight.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way Han’s eyes find yours almost instantly, his lips curling into that all-too-familiar smirk.

Jane elbows you playfully. “I’ll leave you to it,” she teases before slipping back into the crowd, leaving you standing there as Han approaches.

Dressed in a well-fitted suit that makes him look effortlessly charming, he scans the room until his eyes land on you. A slow, knowing grin stretches across his lips as he approaches, hands in his pockets, confidence dripping from every step.

“Well, well,” Han drawls as he stops beside you. “You clean up nicely, professor.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the way he looks—like trouble wrapped in an expensive suit.

“How’s the party?” he asks, leaning in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You take a sip of your champagne. “Just started. Jane’s thrilled.”

Han hums, glancing around before tilting his head at you. “And you? Having fun?”

Before you can answer, Jane appears out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and grinning between the two of you. “Oh, I knew you’d show up, Han.”

Han chuckles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You awkwardly wave toward the bar and ask, “Drinks?”

Han smirks and leans in just slightly, voice teasing. “Lead the way.”

You and Han sit at the bar, drinks in hand, the ambient chatter of the event fading into the background as he leans in slightly, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he starts, swirling his drink in his glass, “are product launches always this fancy, or is this just Jane’s excuse to throw a party?”

You chuckle, taking a sip of your champagne. “A little bit of both. But mostly, Jane loves a reason to celebrate.”

Han hums, resting his chin on his palm as he watches you. “And you? Do you like to celebrate?”

You quirk a brow. “Are you asking if I party?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I’m just wondering if I’ll ever get to see you let loose. I bet you’d be fun after a few more drinks.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “This isn’t that kind of party.”

He grins. “Pity.” Then he lifts his glass toward you. “Still, I think this counts as a fourth date, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes but clink your glass against his anyway. “You’re really committed to this bit, huh?”

“I prefer to call it optimism,” he says smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief. “But if you want me to stop, you just have to say the word.”

You don’t say anything, and that only makes his smirk widen. Just as you’re about to respond, something—or rather, someone—catches your eye.

Across the room, standing near the entrance with a drink in hand, is Chris. He’s watching you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in the way he’s standing, the slight tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick from you to Han and back again.

For a brief moment, your heart stumbles in your chest. You take a slow sip of your drink, trying to shake the strange weight in your chest. It’s just Chris. It shouldn’t mean anything. And yet, you can’t help but steal another glance in his direction.

Han is still talking, still flashing that charming smile, completely unaware of the way your attention has drifted elsewhere.

“—so, I figured, if I’m already here, might as well make it worth my time, right?” He sets down his drink as he notices something on your face, "Can I just—"

Before you can even process it, his fingers are grazing your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. It’s a fleeting touch, gentle, but deliberate. His gaze lingers on yours, dark eyes full of something playful yet unreadable.

"There," Han mutters with a satisfed smile as he securely tucked it behind your ear.

You don’t have time to react—not properly—because just over Han’s shoulder, you see Chris. He’s moving now, weaving through the crowd, his expression as unreadable as before. There’s a certainty in his stride, a quiet intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

You know he’s coming straight for you. Panic flutters in your chest before you can stop it. “I need to use the restroom,” you blurt out, pushing back from your seat.

Han blinks in surprise, his hand falling away as you stand abruptly. “Oh? Uh—”

You don’t let him finish, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile before turning on your heel. You don’t look back.

Inside the restroom, you grip the edge of the sink, taking a steadying breath. The cool marble soothes your fingertips, but it does nothing to calm the rapid thud of your heartbeat. You left in such a rush. Why did you run?

Before you can even begin to sort through your own emotions, the door swings open. You tense, your eyes darting to the mirror—only to exhale in relief when you see Jane stepping in.

“Oh,” she says, her brows lifting slightly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You force a chuckle, shaking your head. “You didn’t. Just… needed a moment.”

Jane leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing expression. “A moment away from Han?” she teases, tilting her head. “But you two looked pretty cozy out there.”

You feel your face warm. “It’s just conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She hums, unconvinced. “Well, from where I was standing, it looked like he was about to kiss you.”

You sputter. “He was not—”

Jane waves a hand, cutting you off. “I’m just saying, I see the way he looks at you. And honestly?” She grins. “I don’t blame him.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it comes out weaker than intended.

Jane studies you for a beat longer, her expression softening. “But… that’s not why you ran, is it?”

You freeze for half a second too long.

Jane catches it immediately. Her grin fades, replaced by curiosity. “You got real nervous all of a sudden. Something—or someone—got you spooked?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to maintain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jane narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

You nod, maybe a little too quickly. Jane doesn’t press further. Not yet. But you know her well enough to realize she won’t drop it that easily.

Jane eyes you for another long moment before sighing and reaching into her small clutch. You watch as she rummages through it, her fingers brushing past a few cosmetic items before finally pulling out a small blister pack. She pops a single pill into her palm and hands it to you, then produces a half-full bottle of water like she knew this moment was coming.

“Here,” she says, offering both to you.

You hesitate, looking down at the pill in your hand. “What is it?”

Jane smirks, shaking the water bottle slightly to get you to take it. “Something to help you relax.”

You squint at her. “That’s not an answer.”

She laughs. “It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just take it.”

You glance at the pill again. It’s small, pale pink. Harmless-looking. But then again, so are most things before they kick in. You look up at Jane, searching her face. “Is this how you handle your nerves?”

She grins. “No, I handle my nerves with tequila, but I figured you’d want something that won’t have you slurring your words in front of the hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han.”

You sigh, rolling the pill between your fingers. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you do need something to take the edge off. Your mind has been spiraling ever since you saw Chris watching you from across the room. Before you can second-guess yourself, you pop the pill into your mouth and take a sip of water, swallowing it down.

Jane watches you with a pleased expression. “Atta girl.”

You shoot her a wary look. “If I pass out in the middle of the party, I’m blaming you.”

She snickers. “Relax. It’s mild.” She leans in slightly. “Though, if I were you, I wouldn’t fight the feeling when it kicks in. Just let go and enjoy the night.”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

Jane winks and wickedly smile as she says, “I'm your only friend. You can't get rid of me.”

She gives you one last knowing smile before tucking her clutch under her arm. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” she says. “Just… breathe, okay?”

You nod, watching as she turns on her heel and exits the restroom, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Once she’s gone, you exhale slowly, leaning against the sink. The pill hasn’t kicked in yet, but you tell yourself that you’re already starting to feel lighter—whether it’s real or just in your head, you don’t know.

A minute passes before you decide to leave. You straighten your dress, smooth out any imaginary wrinkles, and push open the door.

The moment you step out, Han is there, leaning casually against the wall just outside the restroom. His eyes light up as he spots you.

“There you are,” he says, pushing off the wall. He immediately hands you a drink, grinning. “I figured you could use a refill.”

You take the glass from him automatically, looking at him curiously. “Were you waiting for me?”

Han shrugs, his smirk playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just happened to be standing here, looking ridiculously handsome, at the right time.”

You shake your head, chuckling softly. “Of course.”

He watches you take a sip of your drink before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly. “You okay? You disappeared on me back there.”

You hesitate for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

Han doesn’t question it. Instead, he simply smiles and gestures toward the party. “Well, now that you’re back, should we rejoin the fun? Or…” His gaze flickers with mischief. “Do you want to sneak out and do something more interesting?”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it. As you take another sip of your drink, Han effortlessly falls into conversation again, keeping the mood light, as if he’s completely oblivious to the weight lingering in your chest.

As you and Han continue chatting, a strange warmth spreads through your body—not just from the alcohol, but something deeper, heavier. Your skin feels hot, your heartbeat a little too fast, and the room starts to blur at the edges.

You shift on your feet, suddenly restless, and Han notices immediately. “Hey,” he says, reaching out to steady you. “You okay?”

“I just…” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts. “I think I need some air.”

Without hesitation, Han takes your wrist gently. “Come on,” he says, leading you through the crowd. He navigates the party effortlessly, guiding you toward the balcony doors. The second you step outside, the cool night air rushes over you, making you sigh in relief.

Han watches you closely, concern flickering in his eyes. “Better?”

You nod, but the sensation in your body hasn’t entirely faded. There’s still this strange warmth, this unshakable feeling of being unmoored. You try to focus on Han’s voice as he talks, but his words blur together, fading into the background like static.

Before you even think it through, you murmur, “Can I just… lean against you for a bit?”

Han blinks in surprise, but his reaction is immediate. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Of course.”

He opens his arms slightly, and without another word, you step into his space, resting your head against his chest. His arms come around you naturally, holding you steady, and you melt into his warmth, snug against him.

For a moment, the world quiets. The sounds of the party fade into the background, replaced by the steady rise and fall of Han’s breathing.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice low.

You hum in response, your body finally relaxing. You’re not sure if it’s the pill, the drinks, or just sheer exhaustion, but right now, wrapped in Han’s arms, you don’t want to think about anything else.

A slow, melting warmth seeps into your body, and suddenly, it isn’t enough just to rest against Han. You need more—you need to be closer, to feel his warmth completely surrounding you. Without thinking, you shift, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The scent of him—clean and subtly spiced—fills your senses, and you inhale deeply, a content sigh escaping your lips. Han stills for a moment, then exhales a soft chuckle, his hand instinctively running down your back in a slow, comforting motion.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?” he teases, his voice lower, more amused.

But you don’t respond. You just press closer, your head tilting up slightly. Han tilts his head down at the same time, and before you realize what’s happening, your eyes meet—so close, too close.

There’s a moment, a charged silence between you, a breath suspended in time. You can feel it—the pull, the inevitability of it. You’re not sure who leans in first, but suddenly, his lips are just a whisper away from yours, the warmth of his breath fanning over your skin—

And then, abruptly, the moment shatters.

A firm grip wraps around your wrist, yanking you back before your lips can touch. You barely have time to register the shock on Han’s face before you’re being pulled away, your body stumbling into a familiar, solid frame. Chris.

His grip is unrelenting, his body tense as he physically separates you from Han. “We’re leaving,” he says, voice clipped, leaving no room for argument.

You blink up at him, dazed, trying to process the sudden shift. “What—?”

Han straightens, his expression shifting from surprise to something more unreadable. “Dude, what the hell?”

Chris doesn’t answer. He just tightens his grip on your wrist, his jaw ticking. “She’s done here.”

Han’s eyes flick between you and Chris, and then he takes a deliberate step forward, his playful demeanor gone. “She can decide that for herself.”

You can feel the tension crackling in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Your mind is still hazy, your body still burning with lingering heat, but Chris’s grip is grounding—firm, possessive.

For a second, you’re torn. But Chris doesn’t give you a choice. He tugs at your wrist again, his voice dropping lower, quieter. “Let’s go.”

And somehow, even in your dazed state, you find yourself moving, following his lead.

Chris keeps a firm arm around you as you stumble slightly inside the elevator, his grip steadying you. His jaw is tight, his lips pressed into a hard line as he watches you from the corner of his eye. The tension in the small, enclosed space is suffocating.

"You really need to learn your limits," he mutters, voice low but laced with frustration. "Drinking that much? Letting that guy all over you?" He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You're lucky I was there."

You barely register his words, your body still buzzing, your mind clouded. You feel too warm, too restless. By the time he leads you outside and into the cool night air, you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. He opens the car door for you, his other hand resting on your back to guide you in, but you don’t move. You just stand there, staring at him, your breath coming in short, uneven exhales.

Chris sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Come on, get in."

"I'm not drunk," you murmur.

Chris lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Sure, you’re not."

His dismissiveness makes something snap inside you. Before he can react, you grab the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your level, and press your lips hard against his.

He freezes. His entire body stiffening. For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. And then, just as suddenly as you kissed him, you pull away.

Chris stares at you, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted. "What—?"

"I'm not drunk," you repeat, your voice steadier now. "But Jane—" you swallow, your body trembling with heat, "—I think she gave me one of her aphrodisiac pills."

Chris blinks. His expression shifts from confusion to disbelief. "You’re kidding."

You shake your head, but it's hard to focus when all you can think about is the way his body feels pressed against yours, the way his lips felt under yours just now—warm, firm, perfect.

"Chris," you whisper, stepping closer, your fingers fisting his shirt again. You tilt your head up, your eyes dark and needy. "I want you."

Chris swallows hard, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"I do." Your voice drops lower, your lips grazing his jaw. "I want you. I want you... all over me."

Chris lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tightening on your hips. His restraint is palpable, his whole body tensed like a wire about to snap.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "So… how about we do another test tonight?"

Chris exhales sharply, his hands gripping your arms as if grounding himself. "No," he says, his voice strained. "Not like this."

You blink up at him, your body pulsing with need. "Why not?" Your voice comes out in a frustrated whisper, your fingers tightening around his shirt.

"Because you're not yourself right now," he mutters, jaw clenched. "I’m not taking advantage of you."

"Told you I'm not drunk. I—I'm just so horny," You admit with a shy chuckle. Getting no response from him, you huff, pushing him away with a frustrated groan. "Fine," you bite out. "Then I'll find someone who will."

Chris’s eyes darken instantly. "What?"

"If you won’t help me," you say, turning on your heel, "The hot-guy-with-extra-large-dick Han will."

You don’t make it two steps before Chris’s hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back with enough force that you collide into his chest. You gasp, but before you can utter another word, his lips crash against yours.

The kiss is punishing—hot, deep, desperate. His hands grip your waist, pressing you firmly against him, his body heat consuming you. His lips move fiercely against yours, and you melt into him, moaning against his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His grip on you tightens as he growls against your lips, "Get in the fucking car."

Your knees feel weak, your body humming in anticipation. His tone is commanding, leaving no room for argument. Swallowing hard, you nod, breathless.

Chris releases a sharp breath, then, without another word, opens the car door for you. This time, you get in.

-

Chris barely gets the door closed before your hands are on him again, tugging at his jacket, desperate to feel him. He groans against your lips, backing you toward the bed as his fingers work hastily to unbutton your dress.

"You're impatient tonight," he mutters, his voice rough with desire.

"You have no idea," you breathe, yanking his shirt up and over his head. Your hands roam his bare chest, nails scraping lightly down his toned abdomen.

Chris lets out a sharp breath, gripping the fabric of your dress and pulling it down your arms, letting it pool at your feet. His eyes darken as they rake over your body. "You're unreal," he murmurs, his hands roaming your curves, fingers tracing the thin lace of your underwear.

Your hands move to his belt, but he beats you to it, unfastening it in one swift motion before shoving his pants down. His mouth finds yours again, his kisses feverish, almost desperate. He lifts you effortlessly, guiding you onto the bed, his body pressing down against yours.

"Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers through you.

"You," you whisper, tugging him even closer. "Now."

Chris shifts lower, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he trails kisses down your collarbone, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along your inner thigh. His touch is light, deliberate, setting your nerves alight with anticipation.

"You’re already so worked up," he murmurs, his voice deep, laced with amusement as his fingers brush over the damp fabric of your underwear. His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, watching every little reaction, the way your breath catches, the way your fingers curl against the sheets.

He presses a single digit against you, just enough to feel the heat through the thin lace. "Tell me how bad you want it," he coaxes, but before you can answer, he pushes your underwear aside and slides a finger inside you, slow and deliberate.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, and Chris smirks, drinking in the way your body tenses, the way your eyes flutter shut. "That good?" he muses, adding another finger, stretching you just right as he curls them slightly, hitting that spot that makes your hips jerk against his hand.

Your fingers dig into his bicep as he sets a steady rhythm, his thumb grazing against you in slow, lazy circles. "Look at you," he breathes, eyes fixated on your parted lips, the soft, involuntary moans slipping out with each movement. "So responsive..."

You bite your lip, barely able to keep yourself from begging for more, but he catches it, his pace shifting, pushing you right to the edge with expert precision. "Don’t hold back," he murmurs, his voice coaxing, hypnotic. "I want to see you fall apart."

Chris watches you unravel, your body trembling against his touch as waves of pleasure wash over you. His fingers never stop moving until you're spent, your breath ragged and uneven. He presses a deep kiss against your parted lips, swallowing the soft whimpers still escaping from you.

When he finally pulls away, you blink up at him, dazed, still reeling. But the hunger inside you hasn’t dulled—it’s only grown stronger. "More," you whisper, your fingers curling around his wrist, guiding his hand back to where you need him the most.

Chris chuckles, low and warm, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. "Greedy, mmh?" he teases, but his voice is thick with desire, betraying how much he wants this just as badly. He leans in, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss before murmuring against your mouth, "I think it's safer if I put the condom on first."

He pushes himself up and gets off the bed, he goes to where your drop your bag on the floor, rummaging through your bag to find the box of condom inside and takes one before returning to bed.

Chris pauses, the condom packet crinkling between his fingers as his eyes land on you. You’re sprawled on the bed, legs spread apart, your fingers moving slowly over your clit while your gaze stays locked onto him. The heat between you both thickens, crackling in the space between you.

He exhales sharply, his grip loosening on the condom as he lets it drop onto the nightstand. His other hand slides down his toned abdomen, wrapping around himself, stroking lazily as he watches you. The way your breaths grow uneven, the way your body responds to the sight of him—it sends a dark thrill through him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice husky, teasing. He gives himself a slow, deliberate stroke, his eyes darkening with something possessive. "Watching me while you touch yourself."

He doesn’t move toward you just yet. He wants to see how far you’ll take it, how much you crave him. And judging by the way your fingers move faster, your lips parting on a quiet gasp, he knows you want this just as badly as he does.

Chris continues watching, enthralled, as your body trembles and shudders under the pleasure you give yourself. Your breaths come out in soft, uneven pants, your fingers working you through your high while your eyes remain locked on him. The way you fall apart at the mere sight of him stroking himself—it sends a deep, possessive satisfaction coursing through him.

As your body relaxes from the waves of pleasure, Chris finally moves. He climbs onto the bed with effortless grace, settling beside you. His hand finds yours, his fingers curling around your wrist as he brings your trembling fingers to his lips.

Holding your gaze, he presses his mouth to your fingertips, his tongue flicking out to taste you. A low hum rumbles in his chest as he licks them clean, his eyes dark with something hungry, something dangerous. "So sweet," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "I could get addicted to this."

Chris keeps his heated gaze locked onto yours as he finally rolls the condom down his length. The way he handles himself—so sure, so in control—only fuels the fire burning inside you.

He reaches for your legs, his hands warm and firm as he lifts them, settling them against his chest. His lips find your calf first, pressing a lingering kiss there before trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. His mouth finds your ankle next, planting another kiss there, unhurried, almost reverent, before he finally parts your legs just enough.

You feel the weight of him as he slips between, his thick length pressing against your cunt but not quite entering. Instead, he rocks his hips forward, the friction sending a slow, torturous pleasure through your core as he thrusts between the soft, slick heat of your thighs.

His grip tightens, holding your legs securely against him as he sets a steady rhythm, dragging his cock between your folds with each deliberate roll of his hips. The teasing sensation makes you ache, makes you crave more, but Chris doesn’t rush. He keeps his pace steady, his lips brushing over your ankle again as he murmurs, “You feel so good like this.”

Chris keeps his steady rhythm, his length gliding between your thighs, dragging against your swollen clit with every thrust. His grip on your legs tightens as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger. The pressure, the friction—it’s all too much, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

Sensing it, Chris suddenly lets go of your legs, spreading them wide on either side of him. His hands find your hips, and before you can even process what’s happening, he pushes forward, sinking his length into your entrance in one smooth motion.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, and the way he fills you—it all crashes over you at once. Your body tenses before unraveling, pleasure slamming through you as you come hard around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him tight.

Chris groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he stills inside you, feeling every wave of your release. His lips part, eyes locked onto your blissed-out expression as he murmurs, “That’s it… just like that.”

He stills for a moment, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your climax before he starts moving again, his thrusts slow and steady. He watches the way your body takes him, stretching to accommodate his size, your breath hitching with each movement.

But then, as he pushes his cock deeper, you let out a sharp whine, your hands gripping his arms. “Chris… not too deep,” you whine.

He freezes immediately, concern flashing in his dark eyes. Without hesitation, he withdraws just enough to ease the pressure, his touch grounding. “Better?” he asks, voice low, restrained.

You nod, your muscles relaxing beneath him. Chris carefully thrusts back in, this time slower, more measured, watching for any signs of discomfort. But instead of pain, a moan slips past your lips, your body adjusting around him.

His lips curve into a smirk before he leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss. “You feel so good around me,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. He punctuates his words with another deep thrust, swallowing your moan as he kisses you again, his hands roaming, grounding you in the pleasure only he can give.

Chris moves with utmost care, his body pressing flush against yours as he fills you over and over again. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips tracing a path from your jaw down to your collarbone, lingering as if he wants to savor every inch of you.

You shudder beneath him, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the way he’s stretching you in a way no one else ever could. “Chris… touch me,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his hand glides between your soft mounds, he fondles on the ample flesh before pinching on your nipples, drawing out sounds from you that make his eyes darken with need. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Oh, this body—So fucking perfect for me.”

He kisses down your throat, across your chest, taking each of your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard, his lips trailing over every place his hands explore. The possessiveness in his touch sends heat straight to your core. He cups your face, forcing you to look at him as he thrusts deeper. “No one fits you perfectly like I do,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you slow and deep. “Just me. You’re mine.”

And with the way your body tightens around him, surrendering completely, you know you’re his.

Chris entwines his fingers with yours, pressing your hands above your head, pinning you to the bed as he keeps moving inside you. His thrusts are deep, deliberate—like he wants to make sure you feel every inch of him, to make sure you know exactly who’s making you fall apart.

Your body tightens around him, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure coils inside you, building to an unbearable peak. He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, his own breathing ragged as he chases his release alongside you.

"Let go," he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. "Come for me."

And you do—your entire body arching, trembling beneath him as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling him along with you. His grip on your hands tightens as he groans, his movements becoming erratic before he finally buries himself deep inside you one last time, his release following yours.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of his body still pressed against yours. Then, slowly, he loosens his hold on your hands, kissing each of your wrists before lowering himself to kiss your lips—soft this time, lingering, as if he doesn’t want to let go of this moment just yet.

The next moment, you find yourself lying on your side, exhaustion settling deep in your bones, your body still thrumming from the aftermath of pleasure. Your eyelids grow heavy, and just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the mattress dip behind you. Chris slips back into bed, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without thinking, you instinctively snuggle against him.

Softly, you murmur his name, tilting your head slightly, searching for him in the dim glow of the room. He hears you—feels you—and before you can say anything more, his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a stark contrast to the intensity from earlier. You sigh against his mouth, guiding his arm around you, pressing his hand to your skin, silently asking for more.

His fingers trace gentle patterns along your arm, down your side, skimming over the curves of your body with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push—just touches you like he’s memorizing every inch, grounding you in his presence.

The soothing rhythm of his touch, the steady rise and fall of his breathing behind you, lulls you into a peaceful haze. As you begin to slip into sleep, Chris presses one last kiss to the back of your shoulder, his hold tightening around you, as if silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.

You feel yourself sinking deeper into sleep, wrapped in Chris’s warmth, his touch lingering on your skin like a quiet promise. His breathing is steady, soothing, his hand resting on your waist as if he doesn’t want to let go.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this was supposed to be about the product test. About business. About work. But none of that seems to matter anymore.

All you can think about is him—how good he feels around you, how perfectly he fits against you, how easy it is to lose yourself in him. And for the first time, you don’t try to fight it. You just let yourself fall.

-

Monday morning arrives with a heavy weight pressing down on your shoulders. The upcoming presentation looms over you, and as you go through your notes, tweaking last-minute details, the stress slowly builds.

Your lab is unusually quiet, everyone focused on their own work, but the tension is unmistakable. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself when the door swings open, and in comes Jane, carrying a tray of coffee cups.

"Morning, everyone," she chirps, setting the tray down on the nearest counter. She picks up one cup and hands it to you personally. "Thought you could use this before your big presentation."

You take it gratefully, the warmth of the cup grounding you. "Thanks, Jane. I really need it."

She grins, tapping your shoulder playfully. "You're gonna do great. Don’t overthink it. Just go in there and show them why you’re the best at what you do."

Your team murmurs their agreement, offering you nods of encouragement. You exhale, feeling a little lighter. "Alright. Let’s do this."

You stand at the front of the conference room, the large screen behind you displaying your carefully crafted slides. Taking a steadying breath, you begin your presentation, guiding the board through the development, research, and testing phases of your product. You're clearly nervous but you also can't deny that there's this spark of excitement inside you from knowing that Chris is here.

Everything goes smoothly—until one of the executives leans forward and asks, "Have you completed the product testing?"

You hesitate for only a second before answering honestly. "Yes, my team and I have conducted tests with about 20 participants so far. The results have come in at approximately 82 percent, but those results show overwhelmingly positive outcomes for the product."

The room hums with murmurs as the board members exchange glances. Another executive asks, "Only 82 percent? Is there a reason why it hasn’t reached full completion?"

You nod, maintaining your composure. "Some participants haven't finished all phases of testing yet, and we're still gathering long-term feedback. However, the data we've collected so far strongly supports the product's effectiveness and market viability."

There’s a brief pause before one of the higher-ups speaks. "So, based on the current results, do you believe the product is ready for the next phase?"

Your grip tightens slightly on the remote in your hand. You briefly glance at Chris, looking calm and composed. Turning back to the board, you lift your chin and respond with confidence. "Yes, I do."

The board members exchange glances, some nodding in agreement while others seem uncertain. They begin discussing among themselves, weighing the potential risks and benefits of pushing the product into production with only 82 percent of the testing complete.

You listen intently, your fingers subtly gripping the edge of the table as you wait for their final say. But then, Chris—who has been mostly quiet throughout the presentation—clears his throat.

"As the product manager," he begins, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped together on the table, "I believe this product shows great promise, but I also think it needs more time to fully develop as a whole before moving to production."

His words hit you like a sudden chill. You blink, barely concealing your surprise as you turn to look at him. Of all people, you thought he would support you, not slow things down.

"Why?" One of the executives asks, shifting their focus to Chris.

Chris exhales, maintaining a calm but firm demeanor. "While the test results are positive, we still have incomplete data. Rushing production without that final percentage could lead to unforeseen issues down the line. I suggest we allow more time for testing to ensure we’re delivering the best possible product."

The air in the room feels heavy, charged with an unexpected tension. You sit there, frozen, staring at Chris as his words settle over the table like a cold gust of wind.

Needs more time.

You blink, certain you misheard him. But as you scan the room, watching the board members nodding along to his words, reality sinks in. You expected hesitation from them, some pushback—but from Chris? The one person you thought would support you?

Your fingers tighten slightly against the smooth surface of the table as one of the executives speaks up. "Mr. Bang, the data so far shows overwhelmingly positive results. What concerns do you have specifically?"

Chris remains composed, his expression calm and professional. "While the initial findings are promising, we're still missing a full picture. An 82 percent completion rate isn’t enough. We need to ensure the product works consistently across all test cases. If we rush into production now and unforeseen issues arise, it could set us back significantly."

You swallow, your pulse quickening. His reasoning makes sense, but something about this doesn’t sit right with you.

"But," you interject, keeping your tone even, "our projections show that the product is already outperforming expectations. The test subjects' feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. We could work on final refinements even as we prepare for production."

Chris finally turns to you, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickers in his gaze. "It's not just about projections. We need certainty. If we wait and refine the product further, we’ll have a stronger launch, with fewer risks."

You press your lips together, your stomach twisting. Why does it feel like he’s shutting this down?

The board members deliberate, murmuring among themselves before one of them speaks up. "We appreciate your work on this, but we agree with Mr. Bang’s recommendation. We need to be absolutely sure before we move forward. Continue testing. We’ll revisit this in a month."

A month.

You inhale slowly, forcing a composed nod. "Understood."

The meeting adjourns, chairs scraping against the floor as people gather their notes. You stay seated for a second longer, staring blankly at the screen where your presentation once was.

You remain seated as the board members file out, their decision echoing in your mind like a dull, unrelenting thud. The weight of it presses against your chest, but nothing feels heavier than the quiet betrayal sitting in the air between you and Chris.

You glance toward the door, catching sight of his retreating back as he exits the room without looking at you. No explanation. No acknowledgment. Nothing.

Your fingers clench around the edge of the table. Disbelief lingers in your bones, tightening around your ribs. You never expected him—of all people—to be the one to hold you back. To stand in the way of your work. Your progress.

He should have had your back. Shouldn’t he? But instead, he shut you down.

You force yourself to stand, smoothing down your blouse even as frustration simmers beneath your skin. You don’t know why Chris went against you today. You don’t know why he suddenly acted as though this wasn’t something worth pushing forward.

You exhale, shaking off the uneasy feeling creeping into your chest. Maybe he’s just being cautious. Maybe this really is just about the product.

Maybe.

-

✨ The third chapter of Cocky is available on my Patreon page. ✨

Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

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[starlightanya0wsblog]

~Having an argument with Dante~

(Warning: slighty suggestive at the end!)

"You take that back!"

As usual, in the office could be only heard the banters of Y/N and Dante; just like any other day.

He chuckled, sitted there in his chair, feigning innocence.

"Hey now, I'm just being honest! Do you have any idea how annoying your rants are? It's like a non-stop flood of whining."

"If I'm so annoying then I won't come to bother you anymore!"

He laughs, shaking his head.

"C'mon now, don't be like that. I was just teasing you, you know that."

He sighed.

"You're so damn sensitive sometimes-"

"I'M NOT! YOU'RE SO- UGHH! I CAN'T STAND YOU WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS!"

She slammed the door angrily and got out of the room, her heavy footsteps could be still heard outside as she headed out.

Dante rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself.

"Great, now she's gone and got her panties in a twist. Can never win an argument with a woman."

*****

He was still sitting at his desk, bored out of his mind. After a while, he sighs, leaning back in his chair.

"Damnit... I miss that crazy woman..."

Suddenly, Dante hears a knock on his door, his smirk that before was gone immediately came back with confidence; fixing his hair and clothes and taking a deep breath, heading to the door.

"I know that's her. It has to be; after all, she can't resist me, can't she?"

He opened the door, leaning against the frame and looking at her with a smug smile.

"Well, look who it is. You finally come crawling back to your favourite guy, huh?"

There was standing Lady in front of him, with a confused expression.

"...Uh?"

Dante's smirk faded, a look of surprise spreading across his face as he takes in the fact that it was Lady.

"Lady...?"

He hadn't been expecting her, and a pang of disappointment hit him as he realized it wasn't Y/N.

"Yeah...? Were you expecting someone else?"

He quickly recovered his composure, shaking his head, smirking again.

"What? No. Yeah. I mean... nope. No one else."

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

"So, what brings you here, Lady?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"...The job...?"

"Ah, of course. The job. Right. So, what is it? Demons causing trouble again?"

"Yeah... a client called remember? Trish is already waiting for us..."

She can sense something's wrong with Dante, he seemed weirder than usual.

He nods, a smirk playing on his lips as he grabs his coat.

"Yeah, yeah. Can't keep a pretty lady waiting, am I right?"

****

He stands in the center of the battlefield, breathing heavily. His jacket and hair are disheveled, his face smeared with blood. But despite his weary state, there's a gleam in his eyes as he surveys the aftermath.

"Well, that's that taken care of. Good work, Lady."

"Yeah yeah...You know... it's all day that you seem...weird."

Dante furrows his eyebrows, taken back by her observation.

"What do you mean 'weird'? I don't seem weird. I'm just tired from the fight. That's all."

"Well I mean you're always weird it's just a static fact but... you seem a little bit... off."

Dante shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine."

He begins walking away, hoping she'll drop the subject.

"...Now that I think about it; before you seemed surprised to see me... like you actually were expecting someone else."

He froze for a moment, cursing silently under his breath, before continuing to walk.

"Don't be ridiculous. I wasn't expecting anyone else. You must have misunderstood Lady."

"Well, one thing that I know for sure is that you're always joking around and act stupid; but I understand when you'll acting stupid just to not think about something else."

Dante stopped, sighing in defeat. Damn it, she knew him too well.

"All right, all right. You want the truth? Yes, there was someone I was hoping to see."

"Let me guess... you had a fight with Y/N; didn't you?"

He nodded, his shoulders sagging.

"Yeah, we... had a little argument. But it wasn't my fault, believe me. She just can't handle being teased, that's all."

"Well... I saw her getting out of the office and she didn't seem very... pleased. So; is it because of how you put it: "she just can't handle being teased" or because she didn't felt heard?"

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I just teased her a bit, okay? I thought she'd find it funny but instead she got all pissy. She's too sensitive, that's her problem."

"Well; that perhaps may be true; though, don't you think you should... how to put it...?"

He frowned, looking at her with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"You're starting to sound like a therapist now, you know that? Just say what you want to say."

"...Be less a jerk"

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Oh, come on. I'm not that big of a jerk. I was just messing around, having some fun. I didn't think she'd take it so seriously."

"You clearly don't know how to deal with women Dante; even though you're circondated by them."

He huffs in annoyance, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault women are so damn complicated, alright? I don't get why they can't just take a joke."

"Well; I just said what I thought, the rest is your choice."

Dante grumbles under his breath, knowing she had a point but too stubborn to admit it.

"Fine, you're right. Maybe I was a bit of a jerk. But that doesn't change the fact that she's too damn sensitive."

"But you miss her, don't you?"

He looks away, his cheeks getting a little red.

"...Yeah, I do. I mean...we may fight and bicker, but that's just how we are. When she's not around, the office feels...empty."

Lady smiles, giving him a punch of encouragement.

"Then you know what to do already."

He rubs his shoulder, wincing at the punch but appreciating the gesture.

"Yeah, I do."

He gives her a playful salute, before heading to Y/N's house.

*****

He arrived at her house; with a pizza box in his hand.

"Here goes nothing..."

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Comin'!"

He waited anxiously, shifting from foot to foot. He was hoping she would at least hear him out. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Y/N.

Her smiled dropped seeing him, looking at him a little curious and a bit angry.

"Look who came all over the way here..."

"Yeah, it's me. Can I come in for a moment? I... need to talk to you."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, she sighs and makes him sign to enter.

The moment he steps inside, he feels a mix of gratefulness and nervousness as she lets him in. He closes the door behind him, holding up the pizza box.

"Hey, uh... I brought pizza. As a peace offering."

"..."

He fidgets awkwardly under her gaze, feeling the weight of her silence. He sets the pizza down on the nearest table, clearing his throat.

"Look... can we talk? Please? I need to get something off my chest."

She crosses her arms, looking at him and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh now you want to talk? I thought you finded me annoying."

"No, no, I don't find you annoying. I was just... messing around. But I took it too far and I hurt you. And for that, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a jerk, I'm sorry for calling you sensitive, I'm just... sorry, ok?"

She stays silent, listening to him with a certain focus.

"Look, the truth is... I miss you, alright? I miss our arguments, I miss your annoying little lectures, I miss having you around. You make the office bearable, dammit."

She smiled a little, and even if she was looking down, Dante still noticed it.

"So you miss me uh?"

He returns the smile, feeling relieved that she's starting to soften up.

"Yeah, I do. More than I care to admit."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a bit embarrassed.

She was still with her arms crossed, looking up at him. She smiled with a look full of affection.

"I forgive you; I can't stay mad for too long at you if you look at me like a sad puppy... after all, you even brought me pizza."

He laughs, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Ha, yeah, I guess I do have a knack for giving puppy-dog eyes."

He sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside him.

"C'mon, come here."

She couldn't contain her own excitement and hugged him tightly.

Dante is taken by surprise by the sudden hug, but he quickly embraces her back, a feeling of comfort and relief washing over him, taking in her wonderful perfume, oh god how missed that.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there, doll."

He laughs, holding her close and ruffling her hair affectionately.

"There's still something you need to do to be completely forgiven though."

"Oh, really now? And what's that sweetheart?"

"You haven't gave me a kiss yet"

He lets out a low whistle, pretending to be shocked.

"Oho, so that's how it is, huh? You're going to make me work for it, are you?"

He grins, pulling her closer, so their faces are only inches apart.

He gazes into her eyes for a moment, then cups her face in his hands, leaning forward slowly.

"You're such a demanding little devil, aren't you love?"

He whispers, his breath ghosting over her lips before capturing them in a passionate kiss.

She smiled in the kiss; if only he knew how much she also missed him...

His hands gets down to grab her ass, whispering to her ear.

"What about make-up sex love?"

He smirked while she was blushing heavily, sighing a little bit, but she would be lying if she would say that she didn't want it...♡

One thing's for sure; the pizza's was surely going to get cold.

[lorelune]

(michael kaiser x reader // 18+ MDNI // cws: yandere kaiser, stalking, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic behaviors // wc: 2.2k)

"so you really did it?"

"did what?" you ask, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke into the frigid air. your fingers are numb.

"break up with him!"

"kaiser?" you snort, taking another drag before speaking. "i guess? i called things off earlier today, but we weren't actually dating. so it's not like it's really a breakup."

"... sure."

your friend on the line hardly sounds convinced. but it is... true. you and michael kaiser never dated. you never had a label, never discussed any type of commitment or potential future together. though you had spent more than one weekend (try a dozen plus) at his apartment, oscillating between cuddling, fucking, and being in each other's presence's in a way that was distinctly not platonic—

you and michael kaiser were never dating. you were not together. (Regardless of him flying you out to one match in Vienna, and the another in Rome—) you weren't dating.

you never were.

you never expected to either. michael kaiser was transparently damaged, and handling it in an unproductive, destructive manner. you saw this from a mile away, but entertained your chemistry regardless. maybe it was the influence of a few drinks and a few heated arguments that got you in bed with him to begin with, despite clocking his toxic tendencies early on.

you fought a lot, for not being a couple.

care made kaiser squirrely and angry. kindness made him snap. aggression, biting and clawing— angry sex that metastasized into something carnal and closer to a fight resonated with him far more than little affections. you only saw moments of vulnerability from him when you were both fucked out and exhausted. or, when he thought you weren't looking. you felt him pet through your hair while he thought you were asleep, more than once.

you broke up with kaiser because you couldn't handle things as they were anymore.

maybe you wanted to be loved. maybe you wanted to be held, openly and tenderly. maybe, you wanted a partner and not a man with an ego problem who fucked like a god and treated you like invasive creature nine times out of ten when you showed him affectionate.

(you just want to be loved.)

the luxuries and innate chemistry of your relationship simply wasn't worth it.

so, you broke things off. over text, because it seemed the least messy.

[you]: hey, what we have isn't working for me anymore. i don't want to see you any longer. i care about you a lot, but what we have is not sustainable. i wish you all the best, michael.

(you try not to be too affectionate with your message, lest you rile him up. you want to be gentle, but not too... emotional. it's better this way.)

you block him after sending the text. clean breaks— it's kinder in the long run, isn't it? even if it hurts more in the moment.

you sigh into the receiver, tossing your cigarette butt to the side, "i mean it, we weren't ever serious."

"if you say so."

you kick at the snow beneath your feet. there's an inch or two of it on the ground, coating the cobblestones of the path you walk on. the river that cuts through your city runs, despite the cold. there's no one around, and it's peaceful beneath the amber-tinged street lights.

"you don't sound convinced."

"because i'm not." your friend pauses. "... have you seen his instagram story from today?"

"nope," you pop the word from your lips. "i blocked him."

"already?"

"immediately."

"damn. that's cold of you."

"you don't know kaiser like i do," you shake your head. it's better this way, to be cleaner.

(you have always been able to foresee the way that man would tear you apart, if you misstepped too grievously.)

"well regardless," a notification comes up on your phone. your friends has sent a screenshot of kaiser's story. "look. he flew out to your city."

your stomach drops. sure enough, the screenshot has a location stamp over a photo of kaiser's deft hands, twirling a flute of champagne from what is clearly a first class seat.

"... maybe he has a match."

(he doesn't. you know this; there's no league that plays in your city.)

"or, he's coming to see you!"

"that would be insane," you laugh. that bastard... wouldn't, would he? he is... was halfway across the world.

"it would be romantic."

"it would be insane," you repeat.

you turn on your heel, back the way your came through the parkway. your apartment is... about a mile away, maybe. it's dark and cold, but you can probably get back there quickly. you're not sure where this particular sense of haste comes from—

but it's a frantic sort of feeling.

your friend pouts, "you have no sense of romance then, i guess."

(and your friend doesn't know michael kaiser.)

anxiety pitches around between your stomach and lungs. you swallow, and it feels too dry.

"i promise i do," you shake your head. "that's the problem."

"sure. tell me more about it later, 'kay? i gotta get ready to go out. let me know if your man shows up!"

your stomach rolls. "gotcha."

"bye bye!"

the line goes dead. your drop your arm to the side, your phone like a deadweight in your hand. you take a few steadying breaths, looking out at the rush of the river. the roar of it is just far enough away to not be overstimulating. the rest of the night is blanketed in snow and stillness.

you nearly trip as you begin to walk again, panic unfurling in your chest with each step.

(there's no way michael came all the way to your city, on a fucking last minute flight no less, for you. there's no literally no fucking way.)

why would he anyway? to try and salvage your not relationship? that hardly logical. there has to be another reason— his team has had him in a few PR campaigns lately, maybe... maybe that's it.

(you know that you are lying to yourself.)

you slip, just for a step or two, on some ice that's beneath the layer of fluffy snow. barely, you keep yourself upright, your arms flying up to find your balance once more. you take a steadying breath, pressing a hand to your chest.

"you should be more careful."

the blood in your veins freezes, numb and chilled like the air around you. your head jerks up.

kaiser sits on a bench, about ten paces in from of you. his arms are spread out over the back of it. he regards you with a tilt of his head, almost playful.

he looks you up and down, voice full of poison, "you could have hurt yourself."

"why the fuck are you here?" your voice barely manages to stay steady.

"why wouldn't i be?" kaiser shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. the cadence of it makes you feel nothing but unease. "i've got a match in London. i'm just picking you up."

"what are you talking about?" you swallow, audibly. you know that he hears it.

"don't be obtuse." he stands up. your stomach fills with leaden dread.

"you don't be obtuse," you snap back. "we're done. this—" you point between the two of you, "— is over."

"that's a mutual decision." he steps toward you.

you step back. "no, it's not."

kaiser is faster than you, he's up against your front in a moment. it makes you stumble back, nearly falling on the same patch of ice as before.

deftly, he gets an arm around your waist. the force of it is immediately too much, too tight, too hard. you're pulled against him, chest-to-chest. you brace your hands on his shoulders, some attempt at distance, but he doesn't budge. he stares down at you, the cold heat of his own presence engulfing you effortlessly.

"i-it's not," you whisper, voice wobbling. "you need to leave."

"you're an idiot."

"please let go."

"now, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kaiser smiles, something acidic that you can almost taste.

he bends the two of you, so your back arches. you scramble against him for some purchase.

"there's nothing to 'let go'," his sneers. you hit your fist against his shoulder. "you're coming with me to London, and you'll stop throwing this tantrum now, or along the way."

"it's a not fucking tantrum!" you snap at him. your voice matches the roar of the river. you meet his gaze, angry slipping into your tone as it so often does with him. "we are done. i don't want anything to do with you, michael— especially now. i can't believe you hopped on a fucking plane to, what, harass me on my own turf?"

his palms circles your jaw in a swift, uncomfortably fast movement. the pressure of him is unyielding. you can't look anywhere other than him.

the way he looks at you scares you, now more than ever. the frigid blue of his eyes is haunting and as hollow as it is full of vitriol. anger. all directed at you.

"i 'hopped on a plane' to take you home," kaiser dips you further. if he wasn't holding you, you'd crash to the ground. "i should've done so earlier, but i didn't expect that you'd lose your shit so quickly."

you weren't—, "i’m not—"

his grip on your jaw grows tighter. from a distance, this may look romantic to an onlooker.

from your position, you are in the jaws of a beast that you thought you had escaped.

"you're mine—" he pats your cheek, hard, as he tells you. the angle is bad, given it's with the same hand that's holding your jaw. your brain rattles inside of your skull. "don't think you can run away just because you got a bit scared."

"that's not why i broke up with you—"

"but, it is."

you want to cry, run away, jump in that goddamn fucking river. "no—"

"i get it," kaiser noses into your cheek. he's just as cold as you are. his voice is too soft; it unnerves you. "it's scary, loving someone. i'm scared too"

"i—" you don't love him, you can't love him—

he pulls back just enough to dip your body as far as it can go, and look into your eyes, his own pupils blown.

"let's be scared together," he says, just above a whisper, before slotting his lips against yours.

you slam your fist on his shoulders, his chest, the back of his head— you don't fucking care. whatever you can reach. kaiser doesn't relent. instead, he licks into your mouth. kisses you filthy in a public park just because he can.

maybe his words seem romantic, if you were to recount them to someone else. maybe. maybe someone could read his plane ride to you as a grand, romantically-driven gesture.

but, as he holds your head squarely in place, and fucks your mouth with his tongue, stealing your words and breath in tandem— you know, so lucidly, that none of kaiser intent here is 'romantic'. not in a way that's normal, that's sane.

no, this is the only way a deeper connection can exist for him, you think. the hand on your jaw slips down to your throat, holding you there. it's a collar and kaiser's holding the leash.

you whimper; you feel so foolish. you feel so fucking stupid for thinking you could disentangle yourself from him so easily.

"do you get it now?" kaiser says against you lips.

all you can do is nod, it's all the action he allows you.

all of the fights and tension that made connection between you before so intoxicating— it evolved into this. it was always destined to. you've been ensnared since day one, but didn't have the foresight to see you.

kaiser did, though.

as he pulls away, you're light-headed. he rights you and steadies you at the waist. he pats your head and even coos at you.

"are you done now?" he begins to walk you with a hand at your lower back— back in the direction you came. probably toward the nice hotel in the center of town where he undoubtedly has a suite. where he'll fuck you stupid into the king mattress. "if you cry, i'll just make it worse."

'worse'.

you shake your head, hard and fast, and suck down any tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

he seems pleased. "good."

there's nothing you can do but walk by his side. this has always been his design, even if you couldn't see it. regardless of any attempts to sever things and run off, even cleanly, this is where you'll end up.

hip-to-hip, with his hand on your lower back. with the promise of pain and pleasure doled out to you in equal measure.

as you step through the doors of the, as expected, upscale hotel, a wave of warm, fragranced air hits you. and with it, some part of you sags, defeated so simply. crushed. you sniffle and rub at your eyes.

(you don't see kaiser smiling at your side. you don't see the way he slips the concierge a wad of bills with the understanding that he'll be given a room far away from others, and that you won't be disturbed.

he has work to do. you— were going to fucking leave him? he— he needs to make sure that you understand that that is not your choice to make.

and, as he sees you, stifling tears and shaking like a leaf, your little act shattered so seamlessly, he thinks you really are starting to get it.)

you are his.

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part three | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part one part two masterlist tips

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 707,890 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: working up a storm and flirting up a frenzy

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user3: SHE'S BACK

user4: that month she was gone was dragging

user5: i almost forget she has a job lol there's always so much drama i forgot girly was getting the bag

danielricciardo: oh what a lovely picture of you two being gross at dinner i wonder who took it

yourusername: it's this lovely gentleman, i'll have to introduce you. he's quite loud, very charming and should consider going into theatre with his vocal projection

danielricciardo: you think i'm ready for the stage?

maxverstappen1: i think we all think you're ready for the stage

user6: wait so do you think daniel, heidi, y/n and max go on double dates? that's so cute

user7: sometimes i hurt myself by thinking it could've been a triple date if charles wasn't such as ass

maxverstappen1: when she's a triple threat 😍

yourusername: but i can't sing, dance or act?

maxverstappen1: but you are smart, beautiful and can put up with me :)

yourusername: you act like being with you is a chore maxy :( i'd spend all my waking moments with you if i could

landonorris: i'm sending these ^^ comments to my therapist, you guys make me feel so lonely

maxverstappen1: sorry dude

yourusername: lando !! let us play matchmaker ??

landonorris: i'll let you play matchmaker just don't let max have too much input

maxverstappen1: why not i clearly have good taste?

user8: anyone else wondering whether y/n and charles actually spoke after he was seen outside her building?

user9: i was thinking about that too ... i'm guessing they either didn't or it didn't go well by the fact that he's no where to be seen here

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,203,500 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: new weekend, new helmet. this one was designed by the love of my life who put her architecture degree to good use to make me this beautiful lid. love you y/n hope to bring you a trophy back in return 🧡

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user13: max being the resident grid sweetheart was not on my 2023 bingo card

yourusername: no worries max, it was an absolute honour to design a helmet for you.

maxverstappen1: it's an honour to wear something designed by you

yourusername: call me the adrian newey of helmet design

maxverstappen1: that's a big shout, that i'm inclined to believe

redbullracing: adrian gives his stamp of approval y/n !

user14: i swear in an older charles vlog y/n spoke about how she always wanted to design a helmet for him :( i'm glad she finally got to do it

user15: no shade but at least this helmet might actually win the race lol

danielricciardo: cute lid, is y/n open for commission?

maxverstappen1: nope she's mine and mine only (unless you're paying)

yourusername: what he said

user16: i just know charles is screaming, crying and throwing up rn

user17: probably not, people stop being friends all the time, he's got more than one friend and is a millionaire, he's living his best life

user16: his track record says otherwise, he's extremely petty, he probably can't handle that max and y/n don't care about him anymore

user18: tbf from what we saw charles was looking to reconcile, it's more y/n who has been unreasonable

user19: i think she's well within her rights to refuse forgiveness and from reports charles never apologised, this has been a pattern of behaviour for years now. she deserved better, she's now got better

liked by maxverstappen1

user20: i love that max likes all the shady comments about the situation cause i know y/n would never

charles_leclerc

liked by arthurleclerc, carlossainz55 and 908,344 others

charles_leclerc: always make time for your real friends.

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user21: if there's one thing men will have, it's the audacity

user22: well this is an interesting response

user23: are we meant to clap?

arthurleclerc: what happened to the plan?

charles_leclerc: than plan failed in the minute she closed the door in my face

arthurleclerc: call me, but also stop making excuses

user24: yes it is logical to do this offline arthur, but consider this, i want to read the drama

user25: but at this point how is it drama? it's just charles being stubborn. y/n gave him a full explanation and by the look of it he didn't do a very good job with it

user26: the thing is i honestly believe that however bad the apology would be y/n would still forgive him. they've been friends for so long i think she honestly wants it to work out but shit like this does not help his case

carlossainz55: mate i am so confused

charles_leclerc: what's so confusing? she can say that this has led to her finding "the real thing" but i can't?

carlossainz55: but if you wanted to reconcile, you look like an asshole

charles_leclerc: fine, make me the bad guy like everyone else

user27: charles is really in his whiny boy era lord

user28: all i know is that y/n and max are probably at home having the laugh of their lives

f1wagsupdates

liked by 3,095 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln was in the red bull garage this weekend with verstappen's family. max won this race wearing the helmet she designed for him.

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user31: they are the cutest couple on the grid, perhaps of all time

user32: they're defo on the way to that, if they get married could defo grab best couple of all time

user33: the way she still stopped at ferrari to talk to arthur and wish him and charles luck ... clearly there's a bigger person here

user34: y/n is already so close to the verstappens, her and sophie and victoria were together all weekend.

user35: my friend had a paddock pass and overheard sophie asking y/n when she'll be giving her more grandkids

user36: OMG WHAT? what did y/n say?

user35: that she'd have to be mrs. verstappen first

user37: do not play with me right now if we get the charles and y/n friend breakup and y/n and max engagement all in one season my brain may explode

user38: if max weren't winning every race anyway i'd defo say that this is the lucky helmet

user39: i mean grand slams aren't that common, so maybe it is

user40: max win and charles disasterclass, the best weekend possible for y/n

user41: i don't think she actually wants charles to do badly though, she wouldn't have wished him luck..

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 1,405,649 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i've won a lot of races this year but my biggest win of all was your heart. here's to forever together ❤️

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user42: i think i just saw charles drop to his knees in monaco

user43: i mean they can still be friends? there was never any romantic feelings he's just being weird about being in the wrong and it being max

danielricciardo: i'm so so happy for you guys, you deserve this so much. all the happiness to you, i shall assume my position as best man effective immediately

maxverstappen1: bit forward to assume that you're best man mate

danielricciardo: wait, i'm not best man ?

maxverstappen1: i joke, you are, of course, the best man and i can't think of a better man for the job

yourusername: just don't go too crazy with the stag night, i've heard about your nights out back in the day (seen the videos too)

danielricciardo: i don't know what you're talking about, we'll have a boys night in, a round of uno and he'll be ready at the altar right on time

user44: why am i actually so happy for people i don't even know

yourusername: i can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my life, red bull drive babysitter and cat mama

maxverstappen1: i think jimmy and sassy might just be as excited as me (maybe)

yourusername: i know i can tell by all the holes in my shoes

maxverstappen1: we all have our ways of showing love, some bites holes in shoes, some like to follow you everywhere

landonorris: the way max could be either one

maxverstappen1: ummm i'm trying to be romantic stop accusing me of biting my fiancee's shoes

yourusername: don't worry maxy, i'd still marry you even if you bite my shoes

user45: this is an amazing thing and not to bring the mood down, but do we think y/n will invite charles to the wedding?

user46: max could as well, they are friends, even if charles is trying to use their rivalry as a 'reason' to be angry at this relationship

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,206,782 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i am lost for words. i never knew i could love someone as much as i love you, and it is my biggest honour to spend the rest of my life with you.

view all comments

user47: she has really won at life i'm so happy for her

user48: who knew being ditched in corsica would be so good for a girl

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: i love you more than you could ever know, couldn't think of a better mrs. verstappen-y/ln

yourusername: i can't wait to have matching last names

user49: wait is max also going to take y/n's name?

maxverstappen1: yep and couldn't be prouder to have her name

yourusername: awww maxy i love you

user50: so... did charles get an invite?

charles_leclerc: no. so much for moving forward.

yourusername: i won't let you ruin this announcement for me. let the postal service do their job. please get your shit together before you rsvp or fuck off, i have no problem burning that invite.

user51: oof.

landonorris: congrats guys, do me and daniel get a prize for listening to the years of pining that led to this

yourusername: you can get a gold star?

landonorris: make it solid gold and done.

yourusername: girl.

maxverstappen1: if red bull ask whether we drank on this getaway say no

yourusername: we defo didn't spray champagne like we were on a podium and then eat our weight in pasta

maxverstappen1: i had to celebrate my girl :)

note: hiiiii, i know this was highly, highly requested and i hope this has met expectations. i've had real bad writers block and some shit going on in my personal life, so i'm not the happiest with this but could see another part if i get enough ideas lol. thanks for reading <3

[circeyoru]

Loyalty of The Shadow _ Part 2

[Sung Jinwoo x Friend!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 (here) — Part 3

You gave Jinwoo the eyes when you heard the words out of his mouth. No way. You jumped off the couch and threw the manhwa in your hands into the air, while the Shadow knight scrambled to catch it, you stomped your way over to the two Hunters. “Sung. Jin. Woo! No way are you going to name your one and only guild as—!! Why are you all soaked?!”

Your anger disappeared the moment your eyes caught sight of Jinwoo’s appearance, before he could even answer your question, you had rushed into a room (that he is not even familiar with) and came back with a fluffy towel. Your hand signaled at your shadow and another knight emerged to raise you up to Jinwoo’s eye level. You dapped the towel over his head and started drying him off. 

“You’ll catch a cold at this rate.” You pouted while you continued to dry his hair, feeling the towel slowly absorb the water from Jinwoo.

There was his muffled chuckle and you heard him comment half lightedly, “You know I don’t get sick.”

Your eye twitched and your gentleness turned to playfulness as your speech quickened and you started viciously rubbing the towel against his head and then face. “Well, guess you can handle this too.”

For a few seconds, Jinwoo let you do all that with a smile that was hidden by the towel. Then, his hands raised to your sides and hovered there, “Are you going to stop?”

“Nope!”

“You asked for it.”

“Huh?” Your confusion was a brief nenosecond before your erupted into laughter. “Hahahahha!!! St—!! Hahah!!! Stop!! Hahahha! Can’t breathe! Hahhaahhahhaaa! Stop it!!”

“You reaped what you sow.” You heard Jinwoo’s chuckle. 

Jinho watched with a blink expression, soon stating as monotonous as reflect of his mood. “Can you two get a room.”

Jinwoo finally stopped and you were also finally allowed to catch your breath. You leaning against Jinwoo’s chest unconsciously and Jinwoo’s hands on your shoulders to stablize you from falling over. While you were busy catching your breath, you completely missed the way Jinwoo softly smiled at you like a precious being in his heart. 

Knock. Knock.

“Who is it?” Jinho looked over to the door and went to answer it.

“This is Hunter Sung Jinwoo’s Guild office, right?”

Your ears perked up at the voice and dashed over, opening the door wider with a beaming smile, immediately greeting her without giving Jinho a chance. “Hunter Cha!”

The S-Rank Hunter blinked in surprise and looked at you bewildered, “You’re here too?”

You hummed, grabbing Hae-In’s hand to pull her into the office. “Yup! It’s been a while since we last saw each other, huh? Did you try that new cafe I recommended?”

“Yes, it was a pleasant experience,” Hae-In smiled back, “I even brought my raid team once, they loved it too. It was a good recommendation for sure.”

“Glad you can have some relaxation from all that Hunter business.” You jabbed a thumb in Jinwoo’s supposed direction and rolled your eyes, “That Jinwoo is a workaholic, or raidaholic if you know what I mean, never misses a chance to just go into a dungeon and raid…”

A rough hand was placed on your shoulder and pulled you back, then your sight was half covered by Jinwoo’s back. You looked up at him, he had his eyes on Hae-In with indifference and a hint of annoyance? Well, you didn’t think of anything else since his tone was the same as always, “Hunter Cha, what are you doing here?”

Hae-In’s fingers rubbed each other, you caught her nervousness, an unusual sight for sure. “Um… Your Guild…” She looked up at Jinwoo in the eyes as she requested. “I’d like to join it.”

“De—”

“Let’s all sit down first and talk!” You interrupted, stepping out from behind Jinwoo. You once more took her hand in yours and led the way. “Right this way please.” You turned to Jinho, “Can you prepare some snacks and drinks, please, Vice-master?”

“Yeah! Sure!” Jinho was quick on the uptake and left the scene.

Jinwoo sighed and eyed his shadow where multiple pairs of eyes stared down, some moving as though shaking their heads. Then he made his way over to where you had seated Hae-In and sat on the couch opposite to hers. Why is it so hard to get a moment between us…?

As much as you hated serious business and Jinwoo knows that, he stilled pulled you down on the couch to sit next to him for his chat with Hae-In. To cure your boredom, your assigned Shadows had helped you retrieve your stuck of manhwa you were read before Jinwoo’s return. And because Jinwoo wanted to be clingy and hold a part of you, you satisfied his wish by plopping your head on his lap while your legs hang off of the arm of the couch burying your face in the pages of your manhwa.

“Then why… would you want to join my ‘Solo Play’ Guild?” Jinwoo asked seriously.

“Y— Your Guild’s name is ‘Solo Play’?!” See? Even Hae-In was shocked like she saw an S-Rank ghost or something.

“Yes, what’s the problem with the name?”

“Everything’s the problem.” You lowered your manhwa to glare at Jinwoo.

He looked down at you. “Me and the Vice-master agreed to it.”

“Hyung-nim, did you just say that we agreed? It was never decided in the first place! What about the names I suggested?!” Jinho shouted from across the room.

“??” Jinwoo looked over in the direction of Jinho, genuinely confused while you and Hae-In followed the conversation with blank stares and faces. “You didn’t say anything so I thought that you agreed.”

As the conversation shifted back to between Jinwoo and Hae-In, you observed the situation silently and faking your attention on your manhwa. Hae-In’s expression and her speech. Your eyes slowly blinked and you continued to read your manhwa once you figured it out. Hunter Cha Hae-In has fallen in love with Jinwoo.

It was obvious why people would fall for someone like Jinwoo. From zero to hero, from E-Rank to S-Rank, from weakest to strongest. Jinwoo’s change was like night and day. You saw many of these transformations in your stories and the like, but it was just that, stories. In a world like this, Jinwoo’s change was odd and miraculous. A fairy tale change.

But you’ve seen and heard of all the hardships he faced. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t done with the snap of his fingers. Sure the results now was what everyone focused on. Though, where were they when he was at his lowest? Fighting for his life and for the betterment, no, survival of his family. None stick to him. None flock to him with pure intent. 

Not to say those that flock to him now have pure intent too.

Still though, it wasn’t your place to be so judgmental when you were neither an influential figure nor a Hunter. You were just Jinwoo’s long standing friend.

“I only need one more member for my Guild, I don’t plan to make it big.” Jinwoo spoke firmly, a finger pointed down at you, “And that spot is reserved for this friend of mine. So I must decline your request to join.”

“You need Hunters to be your member in your Guild, not citizens.” Hae-In flinched.

“I had asked the Chairman and it was alright.” Jinwoo looked down at you and gently moved your book by the binder down to reveal your face staring up at him. “I just need your consent to finalize.”

You raised a brow at him, “I personally think Hunter Cha would be a better match as a member though.” You moved the book away from his hold and continued your point, “Just think, the country’s smallest Guild with 2 S-Rank Hunters. Quite the name, no?”

Jinwoo sighed, “Actually, there’s an entrance test for our Guild.”

“H- Huh?! That wasn’t in the recruiting notice…”

“I guess that the Vice-guild master must’ve made a mistake, since it’s a new rule for outsiders.” Jinwoo glanced over to Hae-In.

“What kind of test is it?” Hae-In stared back at Jinwoo, unmoving.

She’s stubborn. Jinwoo eyed at you who was back to reading without a care in the world. And so are you… “You have to win against one of my summons.”

Long story short, you somehow was got roped into joining the fight, not as a fighter but as a spectator or a judge if you will. Since you have a nack for observing people and pinpointing weakness to be improved, Jinwoo would more often than not bring you along for his private dungeon raids and training. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

Because Jinwoo was always flexing his power and strength, not to mention his Shadows were fun to hang around.

Now that you’re here, you wondered if setting Beru as Hae-In’s opponent was a good thing. You bet she still has some trauma from the Jeju Raid. You thought Jinwoo would be lenient and ask for Igris to fight Hae-In. Speaking of…

You looked at the knight standing by you with his cloak wrapped around you to protect you from the aftermath of Beru’s strikes and Hae-In’s defences. To your right was Jinwoo, though his eyes were on the fight, one of his hand was raised to shield your front. Like he was ready to jump in and stop whenever needed.

If Hae-In were to be accepted into the Guild, she’d have a lot of time to spend with Jinwoo and your moments with Jinwoo would be forfeited, since he’d spend a lot more time in the dungeon and raiding. It was sad to think about, even though Jinwoo would lend his Shadows to keep you company, it wasn’t the same as spending time with Jinwoo. 

You do recalled the few moments where you joked about asking to be Jinwoo’s significant other. Though, it was fine in fantasy, but the responsibility of staying was scary. As perfect as it was in stories, you can’t imagine yourself being good enough for Jinwoo as a partner, as a friend—yes, but as a partner? Maybe not.

So why did your heart felt like it’s being squeezed to your death when Jinwoo stepped between Beru and Hae-In, protecting her like a knight in shining armour?

You turned to Igris and had him lean down so you could whisper. “I need some time alone, so I’ll leave first.”

Igris’ behaviour made it look like he didn’t want you to leave and wanted to tell his lord and master. You stopped him and had the Shadows placed on you return to Jinwoo. 

“Please do me this favour.”

Reluctantly, Igris nodded in forced understanding. 

So you left without a word as silently as you could after giving Igris a headpat.

It was the biggest mistake of your life.

Note: Shhh. Part 2's out. Never gonna make it continue. But here it is... Anyways~ There's also Part 3 being drafted. Prepare for angst!!! Let me know what you think of this one~

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@lunavixia @o-qi-shisme @skylar896 @marydragneell @bri602

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Score: 8/10

Overall Score: 8/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[mongoosingisme]

Title: Shearing Day

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Relationship: Shane/fem!Reader

Word Count: 7205

Summary: Shane has a hard time accepting you don't regret him. You make sure he knows the truth.

Read on AO3 or below

You liked to think of yourself as a pretty resilient person. Shitty family, string of disappointing relationships, opportunity after opportunity that never quite panned out? It’s all good. Chin up, soldier. Keep it positive. Keep it moving. It was like a rubber band, right? If life pulled you out of shape, you’d snap right back into it.

Which is why you were a little annoyed with yourself when Shane started avoiding you after the gridball game.

You weren’t surprised. Could have predicted it. Maybe you did predict it. You knew there’d be ups and downs, bumps along the way. You’d handle them with grace and a cool head because you weren’t trying to fix Shane, you were just there to be with him.

And yet. 

He was ignoring your texts. And there’d been no sign of him at the saloon. You hadn’t bumped into him on the edges of the farm where he was “just taking a walk, can’t a guy take a walk?” Nada. 

He was avoiding you.

Even though it made sense, even though you predicted it, it still hurt. It’d meant something to you, that boundary you’d crossed together. You wanted it to mean something to him too.

If you were being completely honest, his silence also pissed you off. You were working on that. You wanted to give him grace, logic your way out of the insecurities that kept whispering that it was your fault, that he’d seen something in you that night that disgusted him, that his avoidance was about you and not him.

You were resilient, right? You could snap right back. So you tried not to ruminate on it. It was hard.

So was farming, it turned out.

You were trying to focus on sheep that day. Ten big, fluffy sheep sweltering in the summer sun. They had no business with so much wool on them this time of year, but the shearer from a few towns over kept putting you off and at this point you were sure they just weren’t going to come through.

“Do they look hot to you?”

You were asking Emily, who was currently walking amongst the sheep. She looked like a blue haired cartoon princess, handing out apple slices and giving scritches behind the ears. 

“They do look a little cozy for the weather, poor things. No word from the shearer?”

“Nope.” You let your lips pop on the “p.”

“Hmmm,” Emily said, rejoining you at the fence. She leaned back, faced the sun, eyes closed. “You could try asking Shane.”

You tried very hard to ignore the way your heart jumped at his name. “Shane?”

“Yeah, he used to help Marnie all the time. It’s been a while, but I bet he’d do it for you.” She gave you a sly look. “Give you an excuse to go track him down.”

Emily had been rooting for you and Shane ever since you first sat down next to him at the saloon. She’d known him since they were kids, had seen his ups and downs.

“You’re right… he‘s being a bit of a raccoon though.”

Emily nodded. You were referencing something she’d said when you first started chatting with Shane at the saloon. He’d brushed you off, left for the far side of the room. You’d tried not to let your hurt show, but Emily was Emily so of course she spotted it.

“This one time,” she’d said, leaning on the counter and wiping down a glass, “I found a raccoon with a broken leg, He would have died without my help, but he didn’t know that. All he knew was that I was big and scary and hurting him more than he was already hurting. He scratched my arm all up, but I don’t regret it.”

You were trying not to regret it.

“I guess that’s to be expected, though it’s hardly fair to you,” Emily said. “I know he’d help, though. He really is cuddly underneath it all.”

You thought about the way Shane had leaned against you that night, the way he’d interlaced his fingers with yours on the bus. About how he’d pressed his face into your neck as he touched you, as though grounding himself. About how it felt when he’d let his guard down and was just himself. Just Shane.

You sighed and looked out at the sheep. They really did look uncomfortable. “You’re right. Guess I’ll have to go find him.”

Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Perfect! They’re going to make the best fabric! Let me know how everything goes!”

You agreed, watched as your friend couldn’t help herself and went back for another round of cuddles. 

Finding Shane wasn’t going to be the problem. Figuring out what to say to him was.

—————-

You knew you could find Shane on the dock, so when night fell that’s where you went.

The fat gibbous moon lay close to the tree line, casting just enough light that you could see him there. Slumped in his jacket, bare feet dangling over the edge. You joined him, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet skim over the top of the water. You sat close enough that you could touch him if you wanted. Lean your arm against him, feel the warmth of his body, smell the unexpectedly fruity fragrance of his hair. 

You didn’t, though.

You didn’t say anything.

Shane didn’t say anything either.

The crickets around you chirped.

You heard an owl somewhere off in the distance.

“Hey.” You broke first, not able to stand the silence any longer.

Shane grunted in acknowledgment.

You wanted to grunt back. Wanted to ask him why he was avoiding you. Was it something you said? Something you did? Something wrong with your body, your personality, something wrong with you? You wanted to push him into the pond and fish him back out again and kiss him and peer inside his head and make him just talk to you.

Instead, you said: “Emily says you shear sheep?”

That got his attention, at least a little. “Yeah, I have.” His voice had a hollow quality to it. It brought your mind to rainy days and deep, deep holes.

“I’m getting nowhere with my shearer, and my gals look like they’re about to melt. I’d do it myself but I’m pretty sure I’d get a hoof in the eye.”

Shane’s face looked a little softer now, though it was hard to tell for sure in the moonlight. “Yeah, let me handle it. Emily’s day’d be ruined if you got blood on the fleece.”

“Thanks.” And then, because you couldn’t help it, you added “send me a messenger pigeon when you can come over, since your phone doesn’t seem to be working.”

Shane’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

You didn’t say anything.

Shane didn’t either.

A wet plop sounded across the pond. A bullfrog had jumped into the water.

“I miss you,” you said at the same time as Shane said “You probably want some space.”

You looked at each other for a moment. 

“Why?” Shane asked.

“Why?” you asked.

Shane slouched further into his jacket. “Figured I’d do you a favor and not make you have to let me down easy. You seem like the type who’d be all nice about it, but that just hurts more.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You’re rejecting yourself for me?”

Shane didn’t say anything, just stared out over the water.

You let out a frustrated breath. Where do you even go with that? “How about we pretend that I get to be in charge of how I respond to things and not you, huh?”

You could see the side of Shane’s mouth quirk up. “My way works better. Keeps the universe in balance.”

“The universe…. Shane, what are you talking about?”

“I have this theory.” Shane kept his eye trained out over the water. “There’s a balance to things, right? Nature and seasons and all that shit? It applies to people too. Everyone has a certain balance of good and bad that they get. If you get too much of one, the universe balances it out. I’ve had too much good lately, so I’m gonna get curbstomped real fucking soon. Might as well take the bull by the horns about it.”

“Shane…” You hardly knew where to start. “That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

He smiled humorlessly. “Stick around, kid. I’m just getting started.”

“No need to go any further,” you said, “because your whole theory is bullshit.”

Shane shrugged. “The evidence bears out. Every time I get happy, the universe makes a correction. You’re next. There’s no way someone like you could put up with me for long. It’s like a rubber band. The longer I put things off, the harder it’s going to snap.”

���You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’ve got that thing about you, like you’re going to try and fix me, and when that doesn’t work you’ll get tired of it and…” He snapped his fingers. 

You gaped at him. You didn’t know if you wanted to comfort him or shake him. Of all the reasons Shane could have been avoiding you, assuming that you were going to reject him had never crossed your mind. Now that he’d said it, it made perfect sense. Of course he’d assume something good wouldn’t last. Of course he’d do everything he could to escape the sword he felt dangling above his head.

You hated it. Hated that he thought you were only there to fix him.

“I’m not… I'm not trying... is it that hard to believe that I just like you?”

“Yeah,” was his simple response.

“Shane…” you were grasping at the words now, trying to find a way to get around the voice in his head that was so much louder, so much more convincing than anything you had to say. “I really like being with you.”

“Don’t,” he said, and you felt a flash of annoyance at his quick rejection. “I know you think that for now, but you really don’t.”

You were spluttering a bit now. “I’m sorry, what? You know how I’m feeling better than I do?”

“I can see the signs,” is all he said.

“For fuck’s sake…” 

“It’s fine,” Shane said, his voice flat. “I’ll come by tomorrow and take care of the sheep. Thanks for the pity fuck. I’ll see you later.”

Excuse me?

You absolutely wanted to shake him now.

“I’m sorry, pity fuck!? Are you fucking kidding me?” It’d been a while since you’d felt angry like that, righteously vindicated, claws out and ready to tear in. “In what universe was that a pity fuck!?”

Shane didn’t answer. Didn’t look at you. Kept his eyes trained on the pond. 

It was infuriating. 

“You think I’ve got some kind of martyr complex?” You were on a roll now. “What, I just go around trying to fuck the sad out of everyone I meet? Who the fuck do you think I am? I wanted to be there with you, you absolute ass.” 

It felt good, in a way, to be so riled up. Like you could send some of that energy to Shane, sitting on the dock all quiet and still. Press your hands into his chest, resuscitate him, a defibrillator made of indignation and frustration.

He just stayed silent, staring out at the water. 

“Why the fuck do you think you get to tell me how I feel?”

He didn’t answer.

“It meant something to me.” You hated how small your voice sounded as you said it.

Shane gave you nothing. 

To think you’d sought him out. To think you were ready to forgive him for the silence, to understand, to make space, to grow together. 

Fuck

“You know what, don’t worry about it.” You got to your feet, shoved your sandals back on. “Don’t worry about a fucking thing. See you around.”

You looked back, once, as you clambered up the hill from the pond. Shane hadn’t moved. Still sitting there. Still staring out over the water.

You didn’t look back again.

——————

You hadn’t slept well that night. You couldn’t stop replaying your conversation with Shane in your mind. His world view. His assumption of rejection. The way he seemed so sure of how you felt, wouldn’t hear you say otherwise. The phrase “pity fuck.”

You hated it. 

After a few hours of fitful sleep you woke up feeling foggy and vaguely hungover. The sun felt brighter than usual as you opened up the barn, making you wince as you considered your sheep.

It was going to be hot today. Hotter tomorrow. Even worse the next day. Your shearer was a no-go, and Shane wasn’t going to show up after how you’d left things last night.

It was alright. You were resilient. Easier to just get it done yourself anyway.

“Well, ladies, looks like it’s just you and me.”

You’d spent half the night watching sheep shearing videos, the best distraction you could find for the thoughts on repeat in your head. The competent woman made it look so easy, maneuvering the sheep as if they were a particularly wooly bag of flour. She’d had a set of electric clippers. All you had were hand-powered shears. You were glad for that - less chance of damage, for you and for the sheep.

“Alright, Gertie. Let’s do this.” 

Gertie looked at you, chewing on a piece of hay. There was nothing going on behind those eyes. 

You approached her from the side, tried to move her like the woman in the video did, but within seconds Gertie was kicking and baa-ing. You dropped the shears in your attempt to calm her. When you bent to pick them up she knocked her skull into yours with the force only a creature with a completely vacant mind could produce. The impact left you seeing stars.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

You staggered back, blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the figure standing in the barn doorway. “Getting concussed by a sheep, obviously,” you said when you realized it was Shane.

For a second you’d forgotten you were mad at him.

“I told you I’d do it.” He was carrying a case, hefted it onto a bench. “You think I’m that big a piece of shit that I wouldn’t show up?”

There he was, telling you how you felt again.

Well, alright. You were in a pissy mood anyway. Might as well make it double or nothing. “I figured it was a pity shear,” you snapped.

Shane looked at you for a long moment. His jaw was set, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to squirm, take it all back, just hold him. The vulnerability you saw the first time you met him, and a million times since then. “Can I just do this for you?” he finally said.

You didn’t know how to feel. But there was no question you needed his help.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks. What can I do?”

“Just stop harassing the sheep,” was all he said as he started unpacking his case. 

“Roger,” you replied with no real joy, and you watched him get to work.

——————

Turns out watching a nice lady shear a sheep on your phone’s screen was nowhere near as enjoyable as watching the guy you had a (admittedly complicated) thing for wrestle livestock in real time. It’d clearly been a while since Shane had done this, but what he lacked in efficiency he made up for in strength and determination.

He’d started the job dressed in his usual jacket, but by the time the first sheep was done he’d stripped it off. By the time the second was over you noticed big circles of sweat on his shirt. Halfway through number three he’d stripped that off too.

It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless, you’d realized. Even on the beach he’d kept his t-shirt on. It was a crying shame, because the man looked incredible topless. Big, broad shoulders, strong biceps, sturdy around the stomach. You wondered if it brought him back to his gridball days, the way he lifted and turned and maneuvered and grappled.

You wondered what it would feel like if he did the same to you.

By sheep number five you were enjoying the show so much you debated sticking a few bills in his waistband. Instead, you brought him a glass of lemonade.

“Thanks,” he said, draining it in one long swallow. You silently handed him your undrunk portion, watched as he drained it too. He handed the glass back to you wordlessly, then got right back to work.

By midday you had a pile of beautiful fleece and nine much cooler looking sheep. The only one left was Gertie. She’d kept near the fence, pacing and bleating whenever Shane came by to herd one of her friends away.

“Want me to round her up?” you asked as Shane used his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Nah, you’ll scare her even worse.” 

You tried not to bristle at his tone. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll get her. Got any carrots or anything?”

“I’ll check.”

One of the nice things about living on a farm is that if you needed a carrot, all you had to do was root around in the dirt a bit. While most of your time and energy went into your animals, you kept a sizable garden, and it was easy to find Gertie a treat.

“Thanks,” Shane said when you handed him the bright orange root. He wiped off the dirt on his pants, broke it into a few pieces. “Go over by the fence - we’ll want to give her some space.”

You did as you were told, standing back and watching Shane work. He moved slowly towards the scared creature, settling down on his rear and sliding over to her as he got close. He held out a piece of carrot, let her come to him. You could see his mouth moving, quiet words you couldn’t quite make out. He gave her a gentle pat as she stayed near him, fed her more of the treat.

Something in you softened as you watched him. You wondered how he would react if you approached him the same way, with calm confidence, cool headed and patient, letting him relax into an understanding that it was going to be alright.

You imagined it’d work better than yelling at him, at least. 

Shane’s touch, his approach, was magic. He won Gertie over with surprising efficiency, and soon there was one more fleece to add to the pile, one more happy sheep joining her friends.

“Stay for lunch,” you said as Shane started packing up his shears.

He paused, seemed to turn the invitation over in his mind. “I’m disgusting. I should go shower,” he finally said.

“Shower here.” You’d blurted it out without thinking, but now that it was out in the world you couldn’t grab it back.

Shane hesitated, that vulnerable look back in his eyes. He wanted to stay, you realized. Wanted to stay but was at war with himself about it. “I don’t have any clean clothes.”

“I’ll throw what you’ve got in the washer. You can hang out in my robe while they dry.”

He looked down at the shears. “You really want me to stay that bad?”

“No, I’m putting a considerable amount of effort into convincing you to stay because I’d prefer not to be in your company.” 

He smiled a half smile. You noticed his cheeks were a little pink. “Alright. I guess I don’t have anything better to do today.”

Just what everyone wanted to hear.

You took a breath. Thought about Emily, about raccoons with broken legs. About scratched up arms and vulnerable green eyes

“You really have a way of making a girl feel special.” You were teasing him, but he didn’t take it that way. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I can just go.”. 

“No,” you said. “I’d really like you to stay.”

He finished packing, closed the case. “Okay,” he said, then gave that half-smile. “As long as we both acknowledge it’s a pity shower.”

You snorted. “Whatever it takes, Shane.”

Whatever it takes.

———————

Pity.

The word rolled over and over in your mind as you showed Shane how to work the shower, as you picked up the laundry he set outside the bathroom door. You thought about it as you put soap in the washing machine, turned the dial. You thought about it as you listened to the sound of the water.

Pity. 

Like you were doing charity work. Like Shane was taking something from you every time you interacted. Like you were being a martyr instead of connecting with someone you truly enjoyed being near. Like you were trying to fix him.

You weren’t trying to fix him.

It bothered you more and more as you stared at the bathroom door. You wanted him to know. Wanted him to understand in a way that words couldn’t seem to accomplish. Wanted him to accept it, to acknowledge your feelings as separate and opposite to whatever his head was telling him. To stop feeling the tension of the universe drawing back, ready to sting.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, and let yourself into the bathroom.

“Is that you?” Shane sounded slightly breathless from behind the shower curtain.

“Yeah, I’m coming in.” You were already stripping off your shirt and bra.

“You’re what?” Shane’s face peered around the curtain, eyes widening almost comically as he saw your half-dressed state. 

“I’m coming in,” you said again, enjoying his dumbstruck expression as you stripped the rest of the way. “And I’m not leaving until you admit it wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Wait, shit, no, fuck.” You stopped, a foot away from the curtain. From Shane, whose face held a mixture of panic, desire, and awe.

“You okay?” you asked. 

“I’m…” He shifted, eyes darting up and down, from your face to your breasts to your legs and up against. “You’re…” 

“I am,” you confirmed. “Can I come in?”

He swallowed. His face seemed flushed, even for the steamy bathroom. “I’m… I’m naked.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” you agreed. “I had a feeling, what with the shower and all.”

“I’m…” his eyes traveled down your body again, then shot back up to your face, almost guiltily. “I’m… compromised?”

You couldn’t help the laugh. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t say anything. You moved to look into the shower. You went slowly, giving him time to object if he wanted to. 

He didn’t.

As you peered behind the curtain you quickly realized what “compromised” entailed. Shane stood there under the spray, one hand wrapped around the shower curtain, the other around his cock.

His very hard cock.

He dropped it immediately.

He must have been stroking it before you’d burst into the bathroom.

Oh.

Oh.

That was something you could work with.

“I… I was just…” 

You honestly didn’t care why he was in his current state. All you cared about was keeping him there. “I’m coming in,” you declared. 

Shane didn’t object.

It was warm and humid inside the shower. The falling water ran in rivulets down Shane’s messy head, down his chest and arms. He watched you with a mix of desire and trepidation. You moved under the spray.  Moved close to him, close enough to hear his breathing over the sound of the shower. Close enough for the ball of your foot to brush up against his little toe. Close enough that you could press your mouth to his without having to lean forward.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked quietly. 

Shane’s lips parted. His eyes dropped to your mouth. “Yeah,” he said.

And so you did.

A soft press at first. To his top lip. To the bottom. He stayed still, letting you lead. When your tongue gently nudged the seam of his mouth he let you in. His tongue greeted yours softly, pressing back against it without moving forward. You heard him groan, soft, felt his fingers on your hip, very gentle, barely brushing. Felt his cock tap against your stomach as you shifted.

“Fuck,” he huffed, taking a step back. The shower was small, so that was all it took for him to be flush against the wall.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked.

He shook his head, slow at first, then harder, emphatically. 

“Good,” you said, and wrapped your hand around his length.

For a second you were reminded of Gertie. Shane’s face seemed to lose focus, taking on the same vacant expression you were used to seeing on your sheep. You smiled at him, gave him a soft squeeze. 

As you’d first seen that night in the stadium, Shane’s cock was noticeably thick. While it wasn’t the longest you’d ever encountered, its heft more than made up for it. You liked the way it felt in your hand, hot and heavy, such a useful tool for making Shane’s eyes fall closed, his cheeks flush pink.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you said, and squeezed again.

Shane groaned. 

You pressed a kiss to his jaw. To his cheekbone. To the spot just below his ear. “Say it,” you whispered as you gave him another squeeze.

He groaned once more, shuddering underneath you. You let your hand trail down and cup his sac. Fondle it. Gently, gently, push it up towards his body. “Say it,” you said again.

“Fuck.” His voice was harsh, cracking. “Fuck I… fuck.” You’d brought your free hand up to his shaft, squeezed in rhythm with the hand on his balls.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you prompted. Your hands didn’t stop.

“It… it wasn’t…” His eyes were squeezed closed, hands pressed back hard on the wall of the shower. 

“Keep going,” you said, falling into a steady rhythm of pushing and squeezing. 

Shane groaned again. “You’re.. why are you… fuck fuck fuck.”

You were squeezing a little harder now. Not nearly enough to cause him pain, but enough to make sure he understood your point. “It wasn’t a pity fuck. Say it.”

“It… it wasn’t…” he took in a huge, hitching breath. “It wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Good,” you said, rewarding him with a slightly faster pace. He moaned into it, body tightening with pleasure. “Now say it again.”

“It wasn’t… fuck… it wasn’t a pity fuck.”

“Good. Again.”

“It wasn’t a pity fuck.” He sounded a little more confident now, though his voice hitched as your thumb moved up to trace across his head.

“Good, Shane,” you whispered. He gave a full body shudder at the sound of his name. “Now show me how you like to be touched.”

His hands were on top of yours in an instant, guiding you to a much tighter grip than you would have expected. He bucked into your hands, forehead coming to rest on your shoulder, groaning, breath hitching, shaking. You pressed a kiss to his wet hair, loved the way he leaned into you. His hands felt strong over yours, fingers calloused and clever. He gasped lightly with each squeeze of your hands. 

“I want to be here,” you said. He moaned, his thrusts losing rhythm. You kissed his temple. “I want to be here with you, Shane.”

That seemed to do it. He groaned, grunted, and was coming over your joined hands. The shower washed you both clean.

You anticipated the way he leaned on you this time, braced yourself for it. He pulled you close, buried his face in the curve of your neck. You held him, stroked his hair, murmured quietly until the hot water ran out and a deluge of cold had you both scrambling out of the shower.

“Refreshing,” you laughed as you threw Shane a towel.

“That’s one way to put it.” He was looking at you very intently. You felt a little thrill go through you, twist through your core. You tried to shake it off.

“My robe’s over there.” You pointed at it with your head as you wrapped a towel around your torso. “I’m going to go get dressed and start some lunch.”

You left Shane to it without looking back. You told yourself it was to give him privacy, but if you were honest you were feeling a little keyed up. You’d take a couple minutes to cool down, recenter yourself, and then take on whatever came next.

It seemed Shane had a different idea in mind.

You were toweling off your hair when he entered your bedroom. He didn’t knock. You hadn’t dressed yet, and instinct had you cringing, covering up with the towel as he came through the door.

“Shane! I -“ It was foolish - you’d just spent the last ten minutes plastered to him, but it felt a little different here in the bedroom, especially with the way he was looking at you as he stood there in your surprisingly well-fitting robe.

“I figured… since we’re barging in on each other and all…” He swallowed, that nervous look on his face. You wondered if he was about to bolt, or puff those quills up and say something to push you away.

“What is it?” Your voice was gentle.

“I… I want more of you. Now, I mean. And after now too, if you want. But definitely now.”

His nervousness seemed to be waning. Something else was starting to take its place - the Shane you’d been seeing for the past month. The one with a little bit of confidence, a little bit of light. The sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The universe slackening the rubber band.

“I’m all ears,” you said, shifting your towel to wrap back around your torso. You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face. He looked cute, you realized, standing there in your light purple robe. Hair mussed, cheeks a little pink, an answering smile of his own. “What are you up for?”

“Well…” He glanced down, scratching at the back of his head in such an endearing gesture of nervousness you wanted to pull him to you, kiss his flushed cheeks. “You looked so cute out there, when I was shearing. I kept thinking about how I wanted to…” He trailed off, staring down at your feet.

You were loving this. “Go on…” you prompted.

“Yoba…” Shane groaned, swiping a hand down his face. “I kept imagining getting down on my knees in front of you and eating you out.” 

He was beet red now. You couldn’t help the delighted “Shane!” that came out of your mouth. 

“What? What?” He looked vaguely panicked. “Shit, should I have not said that? I’m so fucking out of practice with this….”

“No no no,” you said quickly. “I’m all for it! Damn, get over here right now, I’m all in. If you still want to, of course.”

“If I still want to,” he repeated incredulously. “Like going down on you wouldn’t be the highlight of my entire fucking life.”

He wasn’t moving, though. He was still standing by the door. 

“C‘mere,” you said, holding out a hand. He looked at it for a moment, then crossed to you, took it. You pulled him close, sighed as he put his arms around you, ran an open hand over the top of your back. 

“You feel so nice,” he whispered. 

“So do you,” you said.

Shane pressed his mouth to your bare shoulder. Kissed it. Let his lips linger a breath above your skin. You shivered at his gentleness, felt something start twisting again in your core.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” he said.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” you confirmed.

His mouth traveled up your neck, placing soft kisses on your pulse, your jaw, your cheekbone, your temple. 

“You want to be here,” he said.

“I want to be here,” you confirmed.

He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Stayed there for a moment. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his hand trembled on your back. His mouth shifted, kissing your lips now. You let him control it. Something about how soft and gentle he was made you melt. His hand cupped the side of your head, thumb brushing against your cheek, and you wondered if maybe you were going about it all wrong, if what he needed was gentleness and romance and whispered endearments and soft brushes of your fingertips. 

But then he was backing you up against the bed (breath hitching, face so so close to you as you moved), pushing you down by the hips to sit, dragging your towel off of you in the process, and you figured he was probably just fine with the current pace.

He pressed you back further, laying you down on your back, scooting you up the bed. You expected the kisses to continue, but instead he pulled back, looked at you. Your core coiled up even tighter as his eyes darted over your body. “Yoba,” he said. “You are so far out of my fucking league. Fuck.” 

“Get down here,” was all you could think to say. You grabbed him by the collar of the robe, pulled him down against you. He went easily, settling in between your parted legs, lips slotting against yours, not slow and gentle this time. He was back to the quick, nearly frantic pace you remembered from the stadium. It made you arch your back, the sudden rush of sensation, the feel of lips and stubble and tongue. The tips of your breasts brushed against the softness of the robe, and that was absolutely not what you were interested in, you wanted heat and skin and Shane, so you pulled at the collar of the garment as he kissed you, helped him shrug it off, and the feel of his heavy warmth as he laid back on top of you was exactly, exactly as good as you thought it’d be.

His lips, his weight, the feeling of skin on skin was decadent, had you moaning, shifting your hips under his, chasing more sensation. You could feel his cock hardening again, and that was just a-okay by you, forget his mouth, you wanted him in you, here in your bed, deep and slow and heavy with the window open and the smell of sun-warmed grass wafting through. But he was gasping a little, breaking away, sitting back on his knees. “I need to focus,” you heard him mumble. 

“I need you to touch me,” you replied. Shane smiled at the words, genuine, sweet, eyes sparkling a bit. 

“That’s the plan, baby. Just… fuck, just give me a sec, okay? I’m still a little… it’s just…” he trailed off. One of his hands had found its way to your thigh. It rested there, warm and still. It only drove you a little bit crazy.

“Still getting used to it?” 

Shane’s mouth twisted a little. “Yeah,” he said. His hand moved, stroked up and down. He watched it. “It meant something to me,” he said after a moment.

It took a minute for your mind to catch up, to realize he was saying what you’d been needing him to say ever since that night in the stadium.

“Yeah?” you said.

Shane nodded. Then, with what seemed like great difficulty, he brought his eyes to meet yours. “Sorry for… for making you think it didn’t. It’s all so much at once… it’s almost like it hurts.” He scoffed, looked back at his hand. “Sorry, that’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you said. 

Shane shrugged. “I’m really, really fucking bad at this.” His eyes met yours again. “I’m sorry for being such a dick. You didn’t deserve that. Can I just make you feel good now?”

You laughed, feeling light and happy and not just a little bit turned on by the way his hand kept moving up and down your thigh. “Yes please.”

Shane smiled, a little tight, but genuine. “Good,” he said. “Now stay still and let me do this.”

You would have quipped something back, a “yes, sir!” or an “aye, aye, captain,” but both of his hands were on your thighs now, pressing down all warm and steady, the calluses on his palms causing just the slightest bit of friction as they moved upwards, his thumbs spread and grazing the line where your legs met your core, opening you up, and honestly words weren’t something that felt all that important in the moment.

And then his mouth was on you too, on your lower stomach, kissing below your navel, soft and breathy and lingering. You ran your fingers through his hair and he made a small sound, nodding into you. You carded the strands as his mouth worked, moving to your hips now, traveling down to your thighs, pressing kisses in a wide arc around your core. 

It was sweet, the way he seemed to be enjoying you, but also a little frustrating. His warmth, the feel of his lips, the way he was breathing in through his nose, it went straight to your stomach, your hips. You felt yourself tensing as his lips pressed high on your inner thigh, less than an inch from where you wanted his mouth but still so, so far away. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” you finally asked.

Shane looked up at you from between your legs, a look in his eye that you’d never seen before. Confident. Daring. Maybe even cocky. It struck you that you might be in a little bit of trouble.

“Little eager, aren’t we?” he teased, and pressed another soft kiss to your thigh.

“Gotta… fuck.” He’d nipped at the spot he’d been kissing, the sudden sting zinging through your core. You heard him huff a little laugh. “Gotta get the fleece dealt with this afternoon.”

“Mmmm,” was all Shane said. He’d switched to sucking, latching his mouth onto that same spot, that bit of skin so teasingly close to but so entirely not what you needed. 

“Shane….” you whined, hitching your hips up as your thighs tensed.

“Easy, girl,” he laughed, anchoring you down with one flat hand on your hip bone. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you muttered, and it made him laugh harder.

“Who’d have thought our new farmer would be so fucking needy,” he mused, voice warm with just a hint of smug. 

“Who’d have thought you’d be such a fucking tease?” You yanked on his hair as you said it, playful, but the way he groaned as you pulled was anything but lighthearted. 

Interesting. 

You pulled a little harder. Shane looked up at you, eyes blown out in a way you’d never seen before. “You want it that bad?” You couldn’t tell if it was confidence in his voice or awe. 

You nodded, a little too overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you to figure out what to say. 

“Yoba,” he breathed. “How are you fucking real?” He still wasn’t moving though, was still looking up at you, so you tightened your grip on his hair. His lips parted, his eyes squeezed shut, and he shuddered between your legs.

“Focus,” you said. Repeating his words from earlier was about all you were able to do.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, okay, okay.”

You relaxed your grip, loved the way he seemed to fall forward, pressing soft kisses - one, two, three - to your mound before tracing the tip of his tongue over the hood of your clit. You gasped at the touch, so much closer to what you needed but not yet satisfying. “More,” you said, tugging lightly at his hair. The way Shane groaned seemed out of proportion with the gentle pull, but fuck, it was working, his tongue was on you properly now, working at your nub with soft, steady licks that had you gasping within seconds.

“Fuck,” you whispered, trying to keep from bucking up into his mouth. You could feel his stubble scraping against your folds, your inner thigh, the scratch augmenting the gentle stroke of his tongue in a way that had you clenching, desperate to move. You dispersed the tension by running both hands through his hair, stroking, grasping, pulling, enjoying his moans, the way his shoulders shuddered as you clutched him. You could see how flushed his cheeks were as he tongued you, the way his eyes squeezed shut. You tried to memorize the image, the feeling, the way his breaths were coming quick and excited, the way his hands were stroking at your hips. 

His tongue quickened, firmer now, flicking steadily at the side of your clit, each movement managing to hit a nerve that sent waves through your body. Part of you wanted to slow down, to savor the feeling of his mouth on you, his warmth between your legs, but the other part of your mind was stronger. The selfish, greedy one. The one that wanted more, that wanted now, the one that was pulling harder at his hair, fed by the noises Shane made as you did. The one that pushed up against his hands, pulled him into you, held him there as he kept hitting that perfect spot that was making you groan, making you round in on him, muscles tight and shaking, mind going gloriously blank for the first time in days, in weeks, in months. Since the first time you saw him. You hovered in the climax, tense, stretched, like a rubber band about to snap.

But instead you shattered, falling apart in a rush of joy and wet and heat and affection and Shane, looking up at you with clear green eyes. 

“Shit,” you whined, letting go of his hair, falling back on the bed. “How are you so good at that?”

Shane pressed one more soft kiss to your mound, then looked up at you with a grin. “Gotta be good at something.”

“Yoba,” you groaned. “Get up here.” He shrugged his way out from between your legs, crawled up next to you. You reached an arm out, let him rest his head against your chest. He was warm, a little scratchy, eyes closed and jaw relaxed. You scratched your fingers through his hair, closed your eyes. A breeze floated in through the open window. You could hear a sheep bleating somewhere out in the barn.

“It’s going to hurt like hell when I fuck this up,” Shane said, so quiet you could barely hear it.

There was no way to logic him out of it, no way to set the gears right in his mind. All there was to do was hold him, stroke his hair, let him feel the beat of your heart. You were resilient, and so, you knew, was he. 

You pressed a kiss to his head, felt him snuggle in closer, loose and relaxed despite his words. It would hurt like hell if this ended, you realized, but it wasn’t an inevitability. If the universe snapped at Shane, let loose that rubber band, you could always snap at it right back.

And as Shane sighed into you, interlaced his fingers with your own, you vowed that no matter what, you would snap back harder. 

Masterlist

[mr-hopkins]

Asking Sunghoon to Shower Together 🌶️🔥

You sigh, dropping your bag by the door as exhaustion washes over you. Work had drained you, and all you wanted was to collapse onto the couch and forget about the world for a little while. But as you step inside, something makes you pause.

The faint sound of water running. And then—Sunghoon's voice.Singing.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand still, listening. His voice, though slightly muffled by the sound of the shower, carries through the apartment. There’s something so effortlessly charming about the way he sings, relaxed and unguarded.

Your mind drifts—too much. You imagine him under the spray, warm water dripping down his toned body, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his lips slightly parted as he hums the melody.

Read the rest below 👇🏻

You shake your head and force yourself to sit on the couch instead. Nope. Not today. I’m a good girl.

For a while, you focus on unwinding, curling up with a pillow, but your curiosity gets the better of you. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to hear Sunghoon singing in the shower like this.

So you creep towards the bathroom, tiptoeing as quietly as possible.

“Sunghoon?” you call out, barely suppressing a giggle.

The singing stops for a moment before he responds. “Yeah?”

“Are you… taking a shower?”

He snorts. “What do you think, genius?”

You bite your lip, your fingers brushing against the bathroom door as you decide to push his buttons. “Can I join?” you ask playfully, giggling.

For a second, there’s only silence. Then, the sound of the water stopping. Your breath catches.

Before you can process it, the shower curtain is yanked open, and Sunghoon steps out, water droplets trailing down his defined chest. A white towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, and his damp hair clings to his forehead. He looks like he stepped straight out of a daydream. You freeze.

Sunghoon smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You think you can handle showering with me, baby?” His voice is low, teasing, dripping with amusement.

Your face flames. “I—”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, raking a hand through his wet hair. “So flustered already.”

Your heart hammers. His toned arms, his sculpted abs, the way his damp skin glistens under the soft bathroom light—it’s too much. You let out a tiny squeak before spinning on your heel and bolting out of the bathroom.

Sunghoon’s laughter follows you down the hall. “Where are you going? Weren’t you the one who wanted to join me?”

You collapse onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your head in pure embarrassment. What was I thinking?!

Minutes pass, and just as you think you’ve recovered, you hear soft footsteps.

Then, a deep chuckle.

Sunghoon stands in front of you, fresh out of the shower, still shirtless, now in grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips. His hair is slightly damp, and his bare face makes him look unfairly attractive.

Your heart skips a beat.

“You’re really cute when you get all shy,” he muses, plopping down beside you. His arm rests along the back of the couch, effectively caging you in.

You tuck your knees up to your chest, trying to shrink yourself, but it only makes you look smaller and more vulnerable.

Sunghoon tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

You huff, looking away. “You’re annoying.”

His fingers brush against your chin, tilting your face back toward him. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. “You weren’t saying that when you asked to shower with me.”

Heat pools in your stomach. His lips are so close. His scent—a mix of fresh soap and something distinctly him—invades your senses.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you grab the front of his sweatpants and tug him forward.

Sunghoon's eyes widen slightly, but his surprise quickly turns into a smug smirk. “Oh? So you do want me?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you close the distance, crashing your lips against his.

Sunghoon groans into the kiss, his hands sliding up your arms, pulling you flush against him. The kiss is heated, desperate, as his lips move against yours, teasing and taking all at once. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, and you part for him, letting him deepen the kiss.

His hands find your waist, gripping just tight enough to make your breath hitch. One of his hands trails lower, squeezing your thigh as he shifts, pinning you between him and the couch.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. “I could kiss you like this all night.”

You shiver as he presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. His lips ghost over your pulse point before sucking lightly, making your breath stutter.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, gripping his biceps.

His hand slides under the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing your skin. “Wanna know something?” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

“What?”

“I wasn’t done showering.” His smirk is devilish. “Come with me?” Your stomach flips.

You hesitate for only a second before nodding.

In one swift motion, he scoops you up bridal style, making you yelp. “S-Sunghoon!”

He chuckles, carrying you effortlessly toward the bathroom. “You asked for this, baby.” The door clicks shut behind you, and the last thing you hear before the water starts again is his voice—low, teasing, and filled with love.

[hime-naya]

Caleb sat at the dining table, pretending to scroll through his phone, though his eyes weren’t as casual as they seemed. They flicked upward, catching your reflection in the mirror as you adjusted the stylish half blazer draped over your shoulders. You tilted your head, scrutinizing your reflection. It looked cute—but was it too cute? Would the doctor question your outfit when you met at the park?

After a quick spritz of perfume, you dabbed the scent behind your ears and wrists, feeling the familiar warmth of anticipation stir in your stomach.

Butterflies.

Tossing the tester tube back into your purse, Caleb’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Who you trying to impress?”

You rolled your eyes, barely sparing him a glance. You could feel his eyes on you, though—always watching. As you walked past him, you nonchalantly tapped his phone, sending it tumbling forward with a soft thud against the table.

"Mind your business," you teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

But before you could get too far, you heard the scrape of the chair, the soft sound of Caleb getting to his feet.

“You need a ride?” His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something you couldn’t quite place. You were already halfway to the door.

“Nope,” you replied quickly, trying to brush him off.

He didn’t take the hint. “At least tell me where you’re going to be, in case you need a ride later.”

You paused for a moment, the question hanging in the air. His protectiveness was something you were used to by now, but sometimes, it got a little overwhelming.

“I’m meeting some friends at the arcade. Is that enough for you?” The lie slipped out effortlessly, but the knowing look in his eyes made you second-guess it.

Caleb smirked at your response, not buying it for a second. He pocketed his phone and made his way toward you, his steps measured and sure. He reached the door before you, grabbing the handle and pulled it open.

“Friends? Or a friend?” He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk growing as he looked down at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You scoffed, pushing him gently but firmly away from the door and out of your way. “You’re not invited. So don’t even think about it. "

"And don’t follow me.” you warned, your voice firm but playful.

“Whatever,” Caleb shrugged, his tone nonchalant, but you knew better. The way he was watching you, the way he crossed his arms, pretending like he didn’t care—it was a front, and you both knew it.

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.”

You shot him a look, and though his words were dismissive, there was a hint of something deeper in his eyes. You couldn’t quite read it, but it made your heart beat a little faster.

“I mean it,” you said again, your warning laced with a hint of challenge.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your persistence. “Go. Have fun,” he said, giving you a small nudge out the door.

You turned, but just before you stepped out, you felt his presence at your back—too close. You couldn’t ignore the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken words in the air.

“Just let your doctor know,” Caleb’s voice dropped, low and serious, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. “If he hurts you...”

You stopped mid-step, turning slowly to face him. He stood just inches away, his eyes darker than usual, an intensity in his gaze that made your pulse quicken. “I’d hate to ruin my clean record over him.”

The air between you shifted, the playful tension dissolving into something heavier, more profound. His words hung there, thick with meaning—protective, possessive, and just a little too real.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed, though your voice wavered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your gaze locked with his, holding longer than you intended.

Longer than you should have.

Finally, Caleb stepped back, but not before his fingers brushed lightly against your back—a fleeting touch that stole your breath.

You turned and walked out the door, yet his presence stayed with you, his words echoing in your mind. Your breathing was shallow now, your heart racing.

It was the way he had looked at you. The weight of his words. That brief, almost-too-intimate touch.

Your stomach tightened, fluttering with a familiar unease.

Butterflies...

It’s been ages since I last wrote fanfiction, so I’m a bit rusty. Hopefully, I’ll get plenty of practice and improve along the way. 💖

[narraboths]

“You got anything to tell me about yesterday’s interview, Ponytail?”

Being cornered by one’s editor is rarely a good sign. Being cornered by a harried Snapper Carr one month into her tenure as a rookie reporter would be enough to give others nightmares for a month. Maybe ulcers. Kara, though, she’s been having a great week, and she’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Nope.” She pops the p a little. Something about Snapper’s moroseness always pushes her to be spitefully chipper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not at all.”

“Hm.” Snapper nurses the thought with that dour, toothachey look that Kara’s come to learn is directed at her just as much as it is a sign of his general displeasure with the world. He pulls out his phone, jabbing at the screen. “So do you mind explaining to me why my cub reporter is on the front page of every gossip rag from here to Metropolis as the Mystery Blonde Caught in Luthor’s Web?”

That can’t be right is immediately the tip of Kara’s tongue but it freezes there, along with the incredulous laugh threatening to burst out of her, because Snapper is shoving his phone in her face and–

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurts out, instinctively, then winces at her own choice of words. Great save. “I was just being considerate.”

It’s true, really. She was only holding the door open for Lena as they left L-Corp (Lena was on the move the whole day, they did half of the interview in the back of her Range Rover, flitting between offices), and it only happened that Lena’s hand fell to her forearm, a completely innocent gesture, as innocent as Lena’s smile, as the way she swayed a little closer, saying thank you as she strode by. And sure, Kara may have felt mesmerized for a single, fleeting moment, suddenly so deeply flustered by the gentle weight of Lena’s hand that she almost cracked the door handle in two, but who wouldn’t? Lena Luthor just has a remarkable presence. Why are they letting paparazzi camp out at the L-Corp doorstep, anyways?

“I’ve never seen Luthor that affectionate with anyone.” Snapper eyes Kara suspiciously, his face screaming why you of all people, bumbling rookie who can barely even spell?. “I’ve never seen any of the Luthors affectionate with anyone at all.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm, sir.” Kara flashes the most annoyingly innocent smile she can, then squares her shoulders. “Did you actually read my article?”

There’s a beat of silence, Snapper staring daggers at her. Then finally, finally, he lets out an annoyed huff.

“Of course I read it. It’s going out first thing tomorrow.” He pockets his phone, then rubs his face with a tired motion. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“You got it, boss.”

-

It happens again.

It happens again a bunch, really. (Kara at the L-Corp gala, at Lena’s table, the two of them in lively conversation, shoulders pressed together – she was telling me about L-Corp’s new green energy initiative, sir –, the fond smile and almost-teasing tone when Lena calls “yes, Miss Danvers?” at her press conference – she’s just nice! It’s not a crime! –, the candid of them on the CatCo balcony when Lena’s in house for her cover shoot, Kara gesturing excitedly and Lena leaning against the railing, hanging onto every word, a jacket two sizes too big wrapped around her shoulders – you know it gets cold out there. At least there’s no photos of her wrapping the jacket around Lena, their hands brushing together, the faint blush along the lines of Lena’s throat. That’d probably look pretty suspicious.) Snapper’s face takes on increasingly vivid shades of purplish red.

“Do we need to go over the meaning of journalistic integrity again, Danvers?”

Kara decides to take graduating from “Ponytail” as a win.

“We’re not– it’s not anything untoward,” she shoots back, arms crossed, only slightly blushing. In anger, certainly. “I’m doing my job. I grilled her on L-Corp still holding a contract with the government for anti-alien defense systems that Lex negotiated, just last week. There’s footage.”

“Yeah,” Snapper grinds his teeth so vehemently that Kara’s afraid he might crack a crown. “Footage of her hugging you in the hallway afterwards, too. What the hell were you doing?”

“She just thanked me, sir.” The vein on Snapper’s neck looks ready to burst. Kara makes a mental note to recommend meditation at a less belligerent time. “She said my question made it possible for her to make a public stance and really send a message.”

Snapper looks like he’s nearing an aneurysm.

“Hell, Danvers, that sounds even worse!”

It sounded pretty great, actually, Kara thinks, after the borderline unprofessional row they had in Lena’s office when Kara first broached the subject. It felt pretty great, too, not just Lena’s declaration, her renewed commitment to reject everything Lex and Lillian stand for, but the warmth of Lena’s pressed against her, her lips brushing against Kara’s cheek, the low murmur of “you’re such a wonderful friend” in her ear that gave her such a strange shiver. At least that much thankfully escaped the prying eyes and cameras.

“Either I don’t go near her, or CatCo continues to have the leading stories on one of National City’s most high-profile citizens.” She gives Snapper the steeliest look she can muster without letting her heat vision flare up. “And my covers are currently bringing in our biggest numbers. Sir.”

Snapper grinds his teeth again, but his shoulders sag just a touch, and Kara knows she’s won this round.

“You’re on thin ice, Danvers. Back to your desk.”

Kara complies with a grin and a thumbs up, and decides to take a break half an hour later, when Alex forwards her an article titled Bosom Buddies: Lena Luthor Out And About With CatCo Gal Pal with a subtle mix of skull, knife, and eyeroll emojis. She does save one of the photos, though, the one where Lena’s head’s thrown back in adorable, delightful laughter.

-

“Can you explain this one, Danvers?”

Snapper doesn’t look angry this time. No, he’s strangely calm, somewhat elated, even, slamming a whole bundle of newspapers down on her desk, jolting Kara out of her reverie. Half of them are National City publications, Kara vaguely notes, but there’s Metropolis and Gotham and Central City in the mix, too, as if it was the story of the century. Must be a slow news day.

“Of course, sir. I think the proper term is ‘first date’?”

To her greatest surprise, Snapper barks out a laugh, loud and gruff.

“You’re now barred from any future reporting on the Luthors or L-Corp,” he tells her, not without a touch of satisfaction. If Kara hadn’t been walking on sunshine for the past thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds, since the first tentative press of Lena’s lips against her own, she might’ve felt a bit miffed. “Cat Grant’s setting aside a little time later in the afternoon to chew you out personally.”

Kara nods happily along. Withering tones and grim disapproval, the usual spiel, as if anything could dull that buzzing, electrifying feeling coursing through her body since last night, the weightless, feverish joy that grips her every time she thinks of Lena’s last text and everything can’t wait to see you again tonight could possibly entail.

“Yessir.”

“Congratulations, Danvers.” Snapper raps his knuckles against her desk. “Let’s spare each other the heartburn from now on.”

- 

(Kara shows up with a hickey on her neck and the headlines of Lena Luthor Packs PDA With New Girlfriend the next day. Snapper refuses to look her in the eyes for the rest of the week.) 

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral Sex, Mentions of Male Masturbation

Summary: Just some good old student appreciation

A/N: Requested by cat anon!! I missed you cat anon!!!

Word Count: 520 (Unedited)

You know who each other… technically. 

You’ve heard of each other. You’ve seen each other’s faces. Just, never in person. But that still counts as knowing someone. You don’t have to know someone to know someone. You’ve got each other marked to the T.

Miguel’s some too hot to handle delinquent punk that is the main subject in many of your anonymous complaints, and you’re that pretty little goody two-shoes who is probably wondering where her nobel peace prize is. At least, that’s what the two of you have chalked up based on random name drops you’ve heard around the school. Which has to be 100% accurate because… because. But of course, Miguel can’t just take anyone’s word for it. He doesn't like half of the people in this damn school, so why would he listen to them? So naturally, he has to do his own little investigation. 

And he won’t admit it to anyone so god help him, but it’s hot. Not you, because you’re well, you, but the way you take command has his cock hardening in a second. And it’s totally just that and not the way your hips move when you walk or the way your eyelashes bat when you’re exasperated or the way you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from letting your true emotions take control. Nope, it’s simply the dominance. Nothing else. I mean you’re just a stranger and the bloody VP and not someone he fists his cock to in the bathroom when he’s skipping class…

Which is why when he got the anonymous letter from you- it’s not his fault that he memorized how you write your a’s and y’s-  he didn’t stalk the janitor closet that was to be the designated secret meeting spot. And he totally didn’t make sure to wait 7 minutes (because 5 is too punctual) after the destined time to walk inside. And he totally didn’t feel his cock stir when he got a hint of your perfume as you turned around hastily to look at him. Don’t quiz him, but he was 100% listening to every word you were saying and not just staring at your lips and imagining sliding the tip of his dick through them. Because he's a good and attentive boy. Obviously. Haven’t you heard?

And good boys show their thanks. 

Which is why his tongue is very attentive to your pretty little clit. Twirling and sucking it into his mouth until tiny clicking sounds resonate in the cramp space. It isn’t very hard, the sweet juices you keep gushing on his face makes it very convincing to pay attention. And even when his mind strays, the pretty little mewls you let out and the grip you have on his hair pulls him back into the moment. It just makes him slightly delirious: the way your eyes roll, the mixed scent of your sex and perfume, the intoxicating taste rushing down his throat. It’s just so good he doesn’t even realize he’s coming in his pants the same time you come into his mouth. 

Guess Miss VP tastes as good as she acts. 

[multidimensionalguidance]

Love Reading: Pick-A-Card

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Think of your current romantic life, be it a specific person or in general if you are single. Then, intuitively choose from left to right the picture that calls you the most.

I'll be sharing below your current love situation, information about your future spouse, and details of the relationship as well!

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Picture 1

General: six of pentacles, five of swords, judgment

Currently, you're realizing key aspects behind the importance of reciprocity, balance, and a healthy approach to conflict within relationships. It might be that in the past you were dealing with individuals who were generous from a financial perspective, but that had hidden intentions behind their action or heavy control issues. You might have been taken advantage of your generosity in some way. Genuine kindness comes from a place of enjoying the act of giving service/help to others, but we end up self sabotaging by creating false expectations or idealizing someone. Due to this occurring, your love life is currently undergoing a complete renewal, transformation, and process of "depuration" so to speak. You're reaching a milestone of lessons that hadn't been integrated properly until now and finally closing chapters on behaviors that you will no longer tolerate from others or even yourself. Stay open to being generous with your time and affection if you want to meet someone new, so long they do check all the right boxes, of course. Avoid trying to win at all cost or being argumentative, and put a pause on being overly critical of every little thing you don't like right off the bat.

Future Spouse: knight of swords, nine of swords, the lovers

Your fs definitely has air signs (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) in their astrology chart, specially Gemini. They are direct, assertive, talkative, quick witted, brave, and sometimes impatient or impulsive. Someone who embodies a "hero" or soldier sort of energy. Definitely not scared of taking risks or going head to head with someone who's crossing a line. They might be someone who struggles with anxiety, negative thoughts, insomnia, or simply gets carried away easily by mental stress. Can they handle it well to the point of it not being too noticeable? absolutely, but when they are alone all it slips out like a storm. There's a good possibility that a lot of these feelings come from uncertainty in relationships or previous wounds. They are a romantic at heart and probably yearn for a relationship that feels pure and filled with good intentions. If you want a soul mate connection, then guess what? that's exactly what they want as well. They are also the type to LOVE celebrations of all kind and will show you how to have a good time. Socializing and enjoying environments that foster gatherings to have fun or share happiness will be very important to them. Overall, they are someone who truly wants to develop a partnership with the perfect amount of romance, desire, and sexual connection.

Relationship with Future Spouse: comfort, strength, creativity

You will both learn and experience situations of having more comforts, self care, and nourishment into your life. Both will indulge and enjoy relaxing at home, having a nice meal, wearing a face mask, and watching silly fun movie/shows. There will also be a need for cultivating resilience over any obstacles that might appear within the relationship. You will both become very mentally and emotionally strong together. You become a joint pillar that will create the foundation of a long lasting union. Is that all? Nope. You will both also engage in many creative pursuits and acts as well. Overall, there's a lot of beautiful experiences that will show you both how it feels to be properly supported, nurtured, and cared for in a relationship.

Picture 2

General: eight of swords rx, the star, the lovers

Anxiety, fear, and a bit of insecurity might have been moving in the background and inviting instability or misconceptions in the romantic department lately. This could be from whoever you're thinking, dealing with, or even from you. A lot is coming to light and you're being guided to hold your horses before setting anything in stone because you might not have all the cards at hand. You or someone else might be self sabotaging by ignoring their intuition. Now, there's a bright burning light of hope literally around the corner, so stop stressing, pleease. Even if things might have felt cloudy or foggy for a while, you're finally escaping and finding release from it. Whatever were the shackles that had you feeling trapped and with a lot of mental anguish are dissipating. You are ready to let go of any baggage from previous relationships, and choosing to have a more positive and hopeful outlook with a clear consciousness. There will be healing and progress coming your way, along with the possibility of rekindling a relationship that felt completely lost. There's a partnership showing up as a soulmate or ideal connection, and it's coming towards you after the shackles of what no longer serves you are left behind for good. There will be plenty of romance and attraction coming your way, so be ready for it. This is truly something you've been patiently waiting for. It required you putting efforts, and it’s already flourishing into your desired results and rewards.

Future Spouse: five of swords, five of pentacles, six of swords

This feels strongly like someone you already know or have some story with, yeah I know, that's not always what we want to read but I'm being dutifully honest. This person feels defeated, practically throwing a white flag at this moment. Although there's an underlaying energy of conflict, stress, and desire to fight back, the feeling of being left out in the cold and being broken up or separated is doing a number within them. They want to heal, change, and overcome the situation to move towards a better space. In a negative aspect, they are prone of running away sometimes when things get overwhelming, meaning being avoidant. If this is not someone from the past at all, then you'll meet them after they' are in the process or transition of moving away (alike you) from a conflictive and difficult situation in love. They might appear tense or have a cold aura, as if they are ready to fight opposition at all times. An all or nothing mentality that could lead them into unnecessary conflict if left unchecked. They understand what it requires to have the strength to fight and survive situations of struggle, rejection, feeling left out, or being financially ruined. They are resilient and know when to move forward to find peace and calmer waters. In either cases, if its a past spark or new flame, this person is probably coming from a different country or will have to do a journey/travel overseas to meet with you.

Relationship with Future Spouse: surrender, cleanse, magic

You will both learn and witness situation that will teach you to let go and stop forcing things to go in a certain way. This is of course an uncomfortable process, it hurts the ego, but ultimately leads us to feeling free from restraints. There will also be a lot of cleansing your energy and life that will occur when together, almost as if it was a necessary ritual to maintain balance. You will both feel that magical spark, and notice how easy things manifest next to each other. It's a very spiritual bond that connects the both of you, and there's an awareness of needing occult knowledge in order to elevate the relationship.

Picture 3

General: ten of wands, seven of cups, knight of cups

There seems to be a feeling of being restricted or hopeless about your love life at the moment or not that long ago. You have carried a heavy weight from dating or damaging relationships of the past. The types that initially felt too good to be true, and then made you realize with time that they were indeed too good to be true, somewhat illusory. Perhaps you've been busy with other aspects of your life, so romance wasn't on the top of your priorities, but not an aspect that was much better in comparison. Either way, major endings and closures are coming your way. There will be plenty of options within your selection and this might lead you to feeling unsure of which one is truly the best. You're being advised to meditate, trust your intuition, and not allow wishful thinking to cloud your judgement. They are likely to act as prince charming's, so be mindful of not being swept only by attraction and becoming blinded of their intentions. Either way, you will be feeling a strong soulmate energy, and this has a high likelihood of bringing a lot of emotional fulfillment. You will make the right choice no matter what happens, so just enjoy the ride.

Future Spouse: ace of pentacles, the fool, seven of pentacles

There's a fire sign energy surrounding this individual (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) with a mix of earth (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) placements. They are grounded, practical, and someone who manifests material abundance rather easily. Most definitely good at handling money and very career oriented. This feels like a new person who embodies a free spirited, open minded, curious, and positive energy. They will have a certain youthful spark in their eyes regardless of age. Now, despite the care free energy they can be calm and composed when needed. Your spouse will be patient with you and successful overall. They will work frequently and take risks occasionally when it comes to investments or projects. The type of person to put the effort, take their time, and casually reap their hard work. They also have an undeniable attractiveness, are charismatic, and often find themselves in the need of making important choices from the heart.

Relationship with Future Spouse: love, ideation, anxiety

You will both enjoy plenty of love and heartfelt moments within this connection so abundantly that you will feel keen to sharing it with others (family, friends, etc). There will also be plenty ideas and new projects that you will both create together, including creative endeavors. On the contrast of all of this, there will also be moments of anxiousness or being worried about how things will develop together. It might be that you both are keen to writing a script on how you'd like things to go and then feel overwhelmed when things don't go that exact way. Together you'll learn how to overcome these feelings and focus on the present instead.