#3 in 1 filling machine

[typicalcommondandelion]

sound off who's awake guess what chucklefucks

im bored. i have a 0.5 mechanical pencil and cheap sketchbook.

give me stuff to draw

no boundaries i'll do them if i want to

[undyinglantern]

logically I don’t even think I’m doing horribly (the guy training me told the manager I was doing “pretty well” about handling a “mini-rush”) but mentally my mind keeps telling me oh he’s just lying because we keep getting out breaks at the same time and since I’m practically tailing him of course he’s say that to be nice during the only opportunity to speak to the manager. Only since I’m around and can listen in is he saying something nice.

[zkg2318]

Corporate Life pt. 1

genre/tags ✶ MDNI office!au, sunghoon x afab!reader x heeseung, smut, cursing, not proofread

synopsis ✶ working in corporate was supposed to be boring, not a guessing game of whether your two coworkers were eye fucking you or not.

smut warnings ✶ ass slapping, penetrative sex, use of pet names (slut, princess, baby, good girl, etc...), exhibitionism, oral male!receiving, msm (kissing, blowjob), fingering, virgin reader, threesom

WC ✶ 4.7

@heesimp

read part 2 here | read part 3 here

For the fourth day in a row, Sunghoon stood over Heeseung, who was slouched over in his chair working at his desk. Sunghoon’s forearm muscles tense under his white button down as he grips the edge of Heeseung’s desk, leaning down just enough to whisper whatever the hell it was into Heeseung’s ear for the umpteenth time today. Heeseung’s gaze matches yours as he looks across the short partition that separates your desk from his, the corners of his lips slipping into the smallest smirk as you instinctively clench your thighs together, a heat spreading through your core. 

You watch Heeseung turn his head to meet Sunghoon’s intense gaze, their lips just inches apart in a way that felt far too intimate for the office. Your breath hitches and you quickly look away, feeling a furious red bloom across your cheeks. What the hell? Was this what corporate life was like every day? You had only been here for a week now, and so far the air had never failed to suffocate you with whispered conversations and heated glances that seemed to exclude you at every turn. 

With a forced sigh, you turn your attention back to the report open on your monitor, but the words seem to blur together into a mirage of meaningless jumble. With the weight of Heeseung’s stare burning into you and Sunghoon’s continued murmuring, you find it almost impossible to focus on the task at hand. In the corner of your eye, you see Sunghoon’s lips brush against the shell of Heeseung’s ear as he moves closer, his body pivoting himself to block your view. 

It’s a relief when Sunghoon finally pushes off from Heeseung’s desk and returns to his own cubicle with a lazy stride. Without the weight of the two men’s presence, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, finding it easier to concentrate and breeze through the rest of your files in a timely manner. For the next few hours, the rapid sound of your nails hitting your keyboard fill the space as you complete your last ticket just before your first coffee break. 

Pushing back your chair, you rise to your feet and make your way to the breakroom; one that was thoughtfully stocked with an array of healthy snacks- greek yogurt, granola bars, protein drinks… Though you just wanted a moment away from your desk. As you travel to the breakroom, you’re oblivious to the silent exchange shared between Heeseung and Sunghoon, the latter standing up from his desk as he follows after you in a silent pursuit. 

The hum of the fluorescent lights offers a welcome change from the bright spotlights of your office as you make your way to the counter, starting up the coffee machine. Fingers tapping against the cool marble surface as you watch each drip of coffee fill the pot, Sunghoon lingers by the vending machine in the corner, pretending to inspect the selection of snacks. His presence feels like anything but casual as his eyes lazily scan through the rows of healthy snacks which were voted upon by the staff in a monthly survey sent out last month, though Sunghoon can confidently say he has never seen anyone use it in the last three months he’s been working here. 

When the coffee machine dings, you quickly pour yourself a cup and turn to make a quick exit, but you collide with Sunghoon’s solid chest. “Oh, sorry,” you stammer, trying to step around him, but he matches your move with a casual smile. 

“My apologies. Y/n, was it?” He asks, his eyes locking your gaze with his, keeping you rooted to your spot. “Oh, is that the new coffee blend everyone’s been talking about?” He gestures to the cup in your hand, and without waiting for your reply, takes it from your hand.

You open your mouth as if to say something, but the words die off your tongue when he takes a slow, deliberate sip from your cup. As his lips meet your cup, his eyes never fail to leave yours and you feel your breath catch in your throat when he hands it back to you. “Not bad,” he says as his lips curl into a smirk, “But I think it could use a little more sugar.” 

Your cheeks flare with an intense heat as you stumble back, struggling to regain your composure. His cologne invades your senses and you suddenly become acutely aware of the warmth of his body emanating against yours. Desperate to get away, you awkwardly side step him, muttering a quick “Excuse me,’ before practically sprinting back to your desk. 

Back in the partial sanctuary of your cubicle, you take a sip of your coffee, tasting the mint that was evidently left behind by Sunghoon’s chapstick. The thought of your lips indirectly touching his sends a thrill through you, making you squirm in your seat. Your core slickens once again at the idea of your lips meshing with your coworkers, but you force yourself to focus on your screen. 

It works for a few hours, though the quiet rustle of papers and the soft click of your keyboard is interrupted by Heeseung walking over to you. He stands beside your desk, leaning a bit too close for your liking, “Hey, are you having trouble accessing the file in the manager’s email too?” He asks, his voice low and intimate as he peers down at your screen. 

“Email? I don’t think I got any…” you reply, the sudden proximity making your heart race as you cower into yourself. 

“Really?” With the rise of an eyebrow, he moves to stand behind you, leaning down until his chest touches your shoulder and his tie brushes against the hand resting on your mouse. “Let me check,” Without warning, he places his hand over yours, guiding the mouse with firm pressure as he scrolls through your inbox. “That’s strange. Maybe you weren’t on the email list,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your cheek. 

“Was it important?” You ask, your voice catching as you clear your throat. Waiting for his response, you push your chair to the side, an attempt to create some distance between yourself and Heeseung. 

“It has some files we need for the meeting in ten minutes,” he replies, his gaze locking on yours, “But I’m sure we can manage without them. You’re coming, right?”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing once he steps back, giving you space to breathe. When he leaves, you collect yourself, taking a deep breath as you gather your laptop and notes. 

You take the ten minutes before the meeting starts as a way to have some time to yourself, entering the conference room first and taking a seat in the second to last seat at the end. The air is quiet, a stark contrast to the hum of chatter in the open office, and you use this time to organize your notes and adjust the settings on your laptop. 

A few minutes later, the door creaks open and you see Sunghoon stride in, a coffee in one hand as his eyes lock onto yours. He flashes you a smile before sliding into the chair directly next to yours despite the abundance of empty seats. You keep your eyes fixed on your laptop, but you can’t help but notice the intensity of his stare as he traces the lines of your profile as you pretend to type something important. 

“You look so beautiful when you’re focused,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. Your fingers freeze on your keyboard as the unexpected compliment sinks in. In the corner of your eyes, you see him lean back in his chair, spreading his legs wide until his knees press insistently against your own. The contact is warm and deliberate, sending waves of arousal down to your core. You shift in your seat slightly, acutely aware of the growing tension between you. 

As you move around in your seat, your gaze unintentionally drops downward, following the crease of his dress pants up to his lap. Your breath catches as you notice the way his navy blue dress pants fix around his groin, just barely letting you see the outline of his hardening bulge. A rush of heat floods your cheeks, your face burning as you force yourself to look away, but it’s too late. 

“Something catching your eye?” He teases, shifting slightly to bring his chair closer to yours. 

Your fingers hover uselessly over your keyboard as you think of an answer, but it proves futile as the meeting room door opens again, revealing Heeseung with a cool expression and papers tucked in his armpit. His gaze flickers between you and Sunghoon, as if catching onto the tension clouding the air before striding over to pull out the chair on your other side, sitting on the very end of the table. 

You sit in silence now, the minutes ticking by as the room slowly fills up with more and more coworkers. The once silent conference room now fills with a charged chatter as you make small talk with your coworkers, some you have acquainted yourself with and others you have yet to meet until today. You exchange polite conversation with your colleagues while you wait for the team leader, though your attention continues to drift back to Heeseung and Sunghoon. 

In due time, your team leader enters, carrying a stack of agendas that he drops in the middle of the table with a thud. Everyone leans forward to grab a copy, though Sunghoon stops you from grabbing one. He grabs two, giving you one while making sure his fingers brush against yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You look up at him, your pulse quickening as an electrifying heat replaces the absence of his touch when he draws his hand back. 

Heeseung notices the silent exchange between you and Sunghoon and draws himself closer to you, pressing his knee into yours, though you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. “Okay, let’s get started.” The team leader says, addressing the smart board at the front of the room. 

Though you try to focus on the presentation at hand, your thoughts seem to scatter as the two men who have positioned themselves to sandwich you between them have made it nearly impossible for you to pay attention. The meeting feels like a blur as the hard voice of your team leader mingles with the erratic thrum of your heartbeat. You’re barely registering what’s on the presentation slides at this point- every nerve in your body is on fire as the two men next to you push every boundary you’ve put up. 

Heeseung’s touch is persistent as he’s started tracing patterns on your thigh, his movements getting bolder, and higher, with each passing minute. Each stroke feels like a taunt, as if daring you to react to his touch. Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s constant nudging with his foot has evolved into a game of footsies, much to your dismay. His shiny black dress shoes trailing up your bare legs every so often as he pretends to listen to the presentation. 

And suddenly, during a particularly boring part of the presentation, you feel a harsh squeeze on your thigh, the pressure bitingly possessive. The violent squeeze has you audibly gasping before you can stop yourself. “Y/n?” The team leader asks, grabbing the attention of everyone. “Did you have something you’d like to share with the team?”

Your heart lurches as you come up with an excuse on the fly, “No, sorry!” You exclaim, waving your hands in the air in a desperate attempt to dismiss his concerns. When he turns his back on you, you shoot Heeseung a look, but he only returns it with a satisfied smirk. 

As the meeting presses on, the pressure of Heeseung’s hand never lessens. If anything, it grows more insistent as his fingers slip under your pencil skirt in a slow and deliberate tease which leaves arousal pooling in the seat of your panties. Your fingers grip the edge of your arm rests, the knuckles of your hands going white as he slides his fingers across your panties.

On your other side, Sunghoon’s gaze darkens when he notices Heeseung’s hand under your skirt, and without warning, reaches for your own hand. He pulls your hand into his lap, guiding it to his hardened cock and palming himself over the smooth fabric of his dress pants. Your fingers instinctively curl around the unmistakable shape beneath the nice fabric, and the quietest groan slips past Sunghoon’s lips. He shifts slightly, the move small enough to go unnoticed by the rest of the room, but enough for his suit jacket to fall like a curtain and cover your joined hands. 

You fight yourself to keep your expression neutral, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the moan that’s been threatening to escape for God knows how long now. Your pulse beats wildly as Sunghoon’s slender fingers cover yours, squeezing tighter around him, pushing your palm harder against his aching erection. “Be good,” he whispers, “Wouldn’t want to draw any more attention, would you?”

You offer him a shaky nod, your breath hitching as Heeseung’s fingers slip inside your panties. The chill of his fingers sends a wave of goosebumps down your body as he rubs them between your folds, smirking to himself when he feels your essence drenching his digits within seconds. “Fucking slut,” he hums, “Soaking your panties when you should be focusing on doing your fucking job.” You clench your fists as he whispers to you, wiggling your hips around as his palm digs into your clit, his fingers working slow circles on your pussy. 

Torn between shame and an embarrassing thrill of adrenaline burning through the pit of your stomach, you move your free hand down to Heeseung’s lap, mimicking Sunghoon’s hold and wrap your fingers around his thick erection. Smirking as Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat, you squeeze, giving him a taste of his own medicine. Blinded by lust, you start to move your wrists up and down, both for their pleasure and your own. You’re unsure of what more to do though, limited to stroking them up and down as you’ve never done more than just make out with your past partners. Never before did you think you’d ever find yourself to be in a situation like this. 

“So fucking greedy, touching us both at work.” Sunghoon mutters, adjusting himself in his pants so his cock lays on the left side of his pants.

Every second that goes by feels like an eternity, your coworkers remaining painfully oblivious to whatever's going on below the table.  It’s almost laughable how unaware they are of the way you bite your lip to suppress any noises coming out of you, or of the way Sunghoon won’t stop moving around in his chair, or even how weirdly positioned Heeseung’s arm is as he slides his fingers down your folds. 

When your team leader finally concludes his awfully boring presentation, you quickly push Heeseung’s hands away from you and make an effort to leave, but Sunghoon is quick to lay his hands on you, pushing you back down in your chair. “We’re just going to discuss some things here, we’ll be out in a bit.” Sunghoon says to your team leader. Fortunately for the boys, your manager doesn’t seem to question it as he gives you three a nod, following the rest of the team out of the conference room. 

When they all file out, Heeseung stands up, his arousal painfully obvious as he goes to lock the door to the room before coming behind you. You pull your hand away from Sunghoon’s lap when Heeseung comes up from behind and puts his hands on your chest, rubbing you through your white button down blouse. “Did you have fun in there, you fucking tease?” 

You don’t respond, instead you nervously chew on your lip and close your eyes, not wanting to believe this is real. “He asked you a question,” Sunghoon says, swiveling your chair around to face him. 

“I- I don’t know.” You squeak, turning your head as if you’re afraid of being scolded. 

“I sure as hell didn’t. Wanted to shove my cock in you that whole time.” Heeseung says, bringing his hand up to your chin to pull your face to his. “Tell me you want this. Want us.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, tempted to say yes but embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything like this. “I-I’ve never done something like this…”

Sunghoon and Heeseung share a glance, a small smirk playing on their lips before turning back to you. “Do you mean you’re a virgin?” Heeseung asks, the grip on your chin softening as his gaze turns into something more gentle. 

You nod at Heeseung shyly, your gaze flicking away from his as a rush of heat burns onto your face. “Baby, look at us,” Sunghoon murmurs, his hand resting on your thighs, covering both with an annoying ease. “Do you want to watch Heeseung and I first?”

Your mind flashes to earlier, back when you saw Heeseung and Sunghoon whispering to one another, their faces so close to each other you had almost wished they would just kiss to get it over with, to stop teasing you like you were some toy they could play with. So you nod your head, and Heeseung steps back with a smirk, gesturing for Sunghoon to stand up.

The two boys face each other, their hands immediately finding purchase around the other’s necks as they lock lips in a passionate kiss. Heeseung’s hands run through Sunghoon’s dark locks as Sunghoon grabs at his ass, slipping his tongue in when Heeseung moans in response. Their mouths create a mixture of lewd sounds that has your pussy throbbing for something to clench around, and you find your hand navigating north to quell the desire. 

Sunghoon’s eyes slip open and he looks over at you, spotting the way your hand has slipped under your skirt as you watch them kiss each other. Smirking, Sunghoon bites the bottom of Heeseung's lip and he lets out an erotic moan, pushing his hips into Sunghoon. Their bulges grow as the two men grind against each other, filling the room with their moans. 

Heeseung is the first to let his hand drop to Sunghoon’s pants, hurriedly palming the boy through his slacks. “Fuck, you’re so hard, Hoon.” He gasps in between kisses, squeezing his hand around his length. 

Sunghoon moves his hand from Heeseung’s ass to his own hardening member, mimicking Heeseung’s movement, “Suck me off, Hee.” He whispers, keeping his eye on you as you massage your breasts. 

Heeseung is quick to drop to his knees, undoing the belt on Sunghoon’s pants while the latter strips himself of his jacket. “Just undo my zipper,” Sunghoon says, desperation in his voice. 

Following his direction, Heeseung unbuttons his pants and zipper once the belt is undone. You scoot your chair a little bit closer so you can see a bit better, your jaw dropping when you see just how big his bulge is without the fabric of his pants impairing your sight. Heeseung places a few kisses over his black briefs, rubbing his hand over the bulge before pulling his underwear down. 

When his cock springs free, Sunghoon flicks his fingers in the air, garnering your attention. “Come, but don’t touch.” He points to the ground beside Heeseung, and you obediently move next to Heeseung to sit on your knees.

In front of you, Sunghoon’s long, thick cock stands erect, waiting to be stimulated. Heeseung spits on his hand, stroking the impressive length up and down a few times before placing his mouth over it. You watch Sunghoon suck in a breath, his jawline accentuating his pleasure as he throws his head back in response to Heeseung’s warm mouth enveloping his cock. “Fuck, lick my shaft, just like that.” 

Heeseung comes off of Sunghoon’s member to lick up and down his shaft, moving his hand to massage his balls as he does. Sunghoon’s dick bounces every time Heeseung’s tongue passes over a sensitive spot, leaving him a moaning mess under his touch. “Let Y/n have a turn, Hee.” 

Heeseung moves over just a little to make room for you, looking at you with encouraging eyes. Unsure of what to do first, you press a kiss to the top of his cock. “You’re so fucking cute, Y/n.” Heeseung coos, stroking your hair. “Place your mouth on it, baby.”

You do as he says, doing your best to wrap your lips around him and push your head down as far as you can go. You don’t get far before the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, leaving you gagging around him. Sunghoon pulls you off of his cock by your hair with a satisfied chuckle, “Careful, princess.” He strokes your cheek, “Try again.” 

His cock is covered in your saliva from your last attempt, and you swallow hard before trying one more time, placing his member back in your mouth. You have more success this time around, able to bob your head up and down, allowing Sunghoon to moan as your throat wraps around his cock when you get far enough. “Doing so good, Y/n.” He praises, threading his fingers in your hair. 

Too focused on sucking Sunghoon off, you fail to notice Sunghoon nodding at Heeseung, telling him to move behind you. With nimble fingers, he unzips your pencil skirt, taking your panties with it. You pull off of Sunghoon’s cock to protest, but Sunghoon is quick to shove you back on, this time bucking his hips into your face. He’s relentless as he does his best to thrust into your mouth, albeit shallowly, while Heeseung’s fingers slowly make their way up to your heat. 

Heeseung presses his chest against your back as you sit up on your knees, holding you against him in such an intimate way, you’d almost be asking him what this meant if you weren’t so full of cock. With Heeseung’s fingers rubbing circles around your clit and Sunghoon thrusting into your mouth, tears start to prick your eyes and you start to thank yourself for wearing waterproof mascara that morning. “I’m gonna put my fingers in now,” Heeseung says, collecting your slick with his fingers in one go. Sunghoon slows his assault on your face as Heeseung plunges one digit in, allowing you to get used to the sensation, “So fucking tight, my God.” He sighs, pumping his finger in and out.

You pull off Sunghoons cock, “M-more.” You gasp, looking up at Sunghoon. 

A rough slap to your ass has you crying out in pleasure, and you bite your lip to prevent your tears from falling. “Be patient, slut.” Heeseung scolds, “You should be grateful I’m even prepping you in the first place.” 

You whimper at his words, clenching around his finger before he adds a second. The stretch has you reeling in pain, but it quickly goes away and settles into a dull ache once he starts moving his hand again. When your body relaxes, Sunghoon sits down and pulls you into a kiss, not wasting any time to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

The familiar taste of mint chapstick from your coffee cup transcends onto your taste buds as he kisses you, a half-smile tugging at your mouth as you recall the memory of him stealing your drink. 

Sunghoon pulls you in closer, wrapping his arms around your waist in an intimate yet possessive grip. His kiss deepens, “You’re fucking ours, you got that?” A shudder rips through you at the thought of being claimed by both Heeseung and Sunghoon, though you don’t dwell on the thought for long.

As Heeseung’s fingers continue to pump into you, a coil begins to tighten in your lower stomach, “Heeseung, I feel weird!” you cry, instinctively clenching around his digits as the feeling intensifies. 

“My baby’s getting close to cumming, hm?” He coos, speeding up his pace. With a few more thrusts, you come undone around his fingers, a white film collecting around his fingers as he lets you ride out your high on his digits. “Good girl, you did so good for us.” 

You collapse against Heeseung, your head resting against his chest as you catch your breath. “We’re so proud of you, princess.” Sunghoon says before locking lips with Heeseung for a second time. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of lips smacking, just in time to see Heeseung’s tongue slip inside of Sunghoon’s mouth. The sight itself has you growing wet again, and you squirm in Heeseung’s hold. 

“Do you think you’re ready for our cocks now?” Heeseung asks, peering down at you as he disconnects himself from Sunghoon’s lips. 

You nod eagerly, letting the boys pick you up and place you onto the desk, your bare ass on the conference table while your legs dangle off of it. “Look how neglected you left our bambi…” Sunghoon chastises, rubbing his hand overHeeseung’s clothed erection, “You gonna let him use your hole?” 

Heeseung undoes his belt and button, not bothering to take them off like Sunghoon did and takes out a condom from jacket pocket. He gives himself a few quick pumps before slipping on the condom, biting his lip in the process. In one swift motion, he lifts your legs up so that they wrap around his waist, lining himself up at your entrance and prodding you with just the tip. “Let me know if it hurts, ok?” With that, he slowly pushes in, inch by inch, wincing as he feels your walls wrap around him. 

When he bottoms out, you wait for the pain to subside before giving Heeseung the go ahead to start moving. When you do, Heeseung’s pace is relentless as he pulls out and immediately snaps his hips back into you. The sudden intrusion has you crying out with pleasure, his cock opening you up in ways you’ve never experienced before. “F-fuck! You’re too big, Heeseung!” you cry, scratching at his back. 

“You can take it, slut!” He says, slamming into you. 

Sunghoon, who is standing a few feet away from the two of you, hand stroking his cock as he watches his best friend slam into you, steps forward. “You’re too tense, Y/n. Relax for us, baby.” He says, using his free hand to rub circles around your clit. With the extra stimulation, you relax around Heeseung’s cock, allowing him to move in and out of you at an easier pace. “There you go, baby.” He praises.

Heeseung leans forward under the guise of kissing you, and you open your mouth to accept his kisses, but instead, he spits into your mouth. “Swallow it,” he demands, snapping his hips into you. The lust in his voice sends a wave of desire rushing through you, making you swallow. “Good fucking girl,” he says, leaning down and kissing you this time. His lips are thinner than Sunghoon’s, but the passion is no less than the others as he continues to pound into you with your lips locked together. 

“Mmph, Heeseung- I’m gonna cum!” You moan, clinging to his arms as that familiar coil in your stomach tightens again. Heeseung subtly adjusts your position, slightly lifting your ass off of the table, allowing his cock to hit that spot. “T’s too much!” You cry, a tsunami of pleasure hitting you as your vision goes white. 

Heeseung, relentless in his thrusts, finds himself letting his release go as well when he feels your pussy tighten around his cock. Spurts of cum spill into the condom as his dick twitches inside of you, “Fuck, Y/n, cumming on my cock like that, you dirty girl.” He pants. 

You lay back on the table, Heeseung’s dick softening inside of you as the two of you catch your breath, but Sunghoon’s not done. “I’m close,” He says, approaching Heeseung with a look of desperation. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?” Heeseung asks, gripping Sunghoon’s hair. Sunghoon bites his lip, the speed of his hand increasing as he listens to Heeseung talk to him. “Look at you, so desperate to cum, but you can’t without getting off to my voice.” 

Heeseung looks over to you with his eyebrow raised, as if expecting you to say something. Instead, you sit up, leaning on your arms and beckon Sunghoon over to give you a kiss. You capture his lips in a smoldering kiss, letting out the most erotic moans as encouragement. “Cum for me, Sunghoon.” 

And with that, thick, white ropes of cum spurt out of his slit, landing across the conference table while his head is thrown back in pleasure, moans leaving his mouth like a chant. 

“Next time, Sunghoon will fuck you.” Heeseung says. 

read part 2 here | read part 3 here

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[sevgilimsatoru]

Error 410: (Self aware!AU, Caleb Edition) Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N Spin off Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader. Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, Stressedout!reader. Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog Word count: 1k *"when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you"* *- Friedrich Nietzsche.*

You've heard that quote.., maybe even read it somewhere before but it didn't matter, not when your eyes were starting to ache, a slight burning sensation pulsing behind your eyelids. The only thing staring back at you were the questions in your assignment. The heels of your palm digging into your eyes, rubbing them, trying to drown out the sensation. You had work to do, upcoming tests countless assignments, projects- the dates and deadlines were already starting to blur. Maybe you should sleep. Take a little break, it wouldn't hurt to rest... The sickening feeling of guilt and shame in your gut was going to stay there- despite the efforts to try and study a little more.

It was your fault, really. You didn't do the things you should've on time, procrastinating and postponing work when you shouldn't have. Unfortunately, time never waits for anyone. A click of the power button broke the silence surrounding your room, closing your laptop. You stood up from your desk, stretching your arms over your head, the sound of bones cracking filling your ears. Slumping down on the bed felt much better- the cold sheets against your heated skin felt good, relaxing even. Your tongue darting out to lick your lips, feeling the chapped skin and the stinging sensation sparking up when the fleshy organ touched a small cut on your lip, caused by the frequent biting and pulling of the skin on your lips. A sigh left your lips, swallowing the dryness in the back of your throat. You felt thirsty, your throat felt dry.. empty but not enough to burn and that was reason enough for your mind to stop you from getting up, along with the effort it was going to take to just get yourself a glass of water. Laying against the cold sheets, your mind wandered thinking about something that might get you to sleep. Sleep was slowly becoming a foreign concept- something that happened few and far in between. Your college studies wasn't making it any better- Doing a degree in law along with criminology honors. You really were crazy to have chosen these subjects but your curiosity often went against your decisions. The need to understand and learn more about the few things that you were interested in. There was only silence surrounding you, until a small **ping!** vibrated through the room and in your ears, looking down at your phone to see a message from the game you spent so much of your time on; Love and Deep space and of course, your precious love interest, Caleb. It was almost insane how your eyes lit up when the loading screen of the game showed up. That pretty boy sitting quietly on the leather chair, asleep. A small poke on his cheek was enough for him to let out the usual autogenerated response you always heard. He was so cute, so pretty, so.. human. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much. Over every other love interest, he just felt like a person. A person you could understand- a person you could relate to. You understood why he did the things he did.

Tapping on the small chat button, Caleb was standing there- looking at you. Interacting with him was comforting in a sense. His little teasing yet sincere comments were enough to make your heart stutter. It had became routine by now, doing the daily tasks- getting gems, playing on the claw machine and the kitty cards. Yeah, maybe the kitty cards would be a good idea today. You still had one kitty card attempt left this week. Playing kitty cards with Caleb was fun to say the atleast. It was annoying how good he was at that game. You could never get three wins in a row, sometimes it made you want to punch him through the screen, affectionately of course. Just when you thought you were going to win, all it took was two cards for the whole game to be flipped in his favor. It was so frustrating. "If you keep winning, I'm not going to play with you.." You muttered to yourself, maybe you should stop talking to yourself when no one was going to reply back. "Maybe you should stop and take care of yourself if you can't even focus on the game," Caleb replied in that small text box. That was new, you hadn't seen a reply like that before.. Now that you think about it, did your MC even say anything for Caleb to reply back? Maybe you had missed it, too focused on the game, too focused on him. After miserably loosing the kitty card mini game, you decided to just chat with him by clicking on tête-à-tête. Talking about studies.. wanting to hear his comforting words but with those limited options, how could you tell about how terrible study habits, your conflicting feelings?

You felt stupid, incompetent, like a failure for not being able to complete some simple assignments but how do you tell all that to a fictional love interest in a game? It was shameful in a way, relying so much on the opinions and comforting of something that wasn't even real? It was just so weird.. how he mattered so much to you. Your thumb caressed the screen of your phone where his cheek was, as if he could feel your touch. It made a burning sensation flare up in the back your throat as the brightness of your screen burned into your retinas. Exhaustion of the day catching upto you. Your body curling up on the sheets of your bed. Yeah, maybe sleep would be better. Maybe you'd dream of him.

A/N- Hi everyone, I'm a new writer so this work might feel like really dry and dull. This is just part 1. I'm going to write more. This fic is inspired by Error 404 fanfic of @ittybittyfanblog. I hope you like it.

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ i'm a shameless caller (she's a full machine) ♡

or: a collection of lando's post-breakup voicemails (ones he knows he shouldn't be sending). he wonders if you listen to them. he wonders if you know how much he still loves you. fem!ex!reader x lando norris pt 2

warnings: someone tell the monster in my bed to stop making me write angst. the people deserve LOVE they deserve HAPPINESS they do not deserve this batshit crazy stuff i keep pulling out of my ass. somehow i feel like im always hormonal i don't know what it is ANYWAY XOXO

♡

voicemail 1: — [00:44]

"hey, baby. i know it's been a while. just—just wanted to tell you we were in japan today. suzuka. i remembered you said the fans there had the best signs. this kid had one with my face on a cartoon frog. [laughs] felt like something you would've sent me. i... hope you're okay. i hope you're happy. anyways. see you when i see you."

voicemail 2: — [00:22]

"did you see the race in bahrain today? i waved at the camera on lap 23. don't know why i did it. just kinda felt like maybe you were watching. i dunno if you were. you probably weren't. anyway. that one was for you."

voicemail 3: — [00:42]

"hi, love. i, uh, saw the picture of you. with him at that cafe near your flat. you were wearing that blue scarf, the one my mum likes on you. you look happy. you should be. that's all i ever wanted for you. [pause] anyway. the hotel in jeddah had those tiny soap bars you used to steal. i took three out of habit. let me know if you want them."

voicemail 4: — [00.21]

"i keep telling myself i should stop calling. it's not fair to you. you don't listen to these, i know you don't. but he doesn't know you like i do. that's not jealousy, i swear. no one knows you like i do. no one can."

voicemail 5: — [00.11]

"okay, i know i said i would stop, but the guys asked if i still talk to you. i said no. lied through my teeth. guess that's just what i do, now."

voicemail 6: — [00.46]

"maybe he does listen to these. if he does, i hope he knows you sleep with socks on and hate being kissed before you brush your teeth. i hope he knows you hate sparkling water. been drinking a lot of that, actually. it sucks. [pause] i hope he's good to you. i hope he deserves you."

voicemail 7: — [00.30]

"i, uh, found this dinner place in the city. you'd love it. there's a whole wall of plants on one side. it's like a jungle in there. [laughs] miss going to dinner with you, baby. miss hearing your voice. please call me. please.

voicemail 8: — [00.33]

"i'm about to head into another press thing, but i just wanted to tell you you were on my mind today. yeah. just... hope you're doing okay. i saw your post on instagram this morning, and... and yeah. you look happy. i hope you are.

voicemail 9: — [00.34]

"hi, baby. i thought of you at the race last weekend. thought about how much i miss sharing that with you. it's lonely. really lonely. [pause] i'm, uh, still wearing that bracelet you made me. probably gonna be buried with it, at this point. anyway. miss you, baby."

voicemail 10: — [1.27]

"mum told me she saw you today. said she ran into you. apparently you're... engaged. that's... that's good. that's really good. [pause] i always thought... god, i had the ring for months, you know? kept it in my race suit pocket. was gonna ask after melbourne last year, make it special. [pause] i still have it. can't seem to leave it at home. like maybe if i... [pause] like maybe if i have it with me, i'll turn a corner and you'll be there, and everything will make sense again. fuck. i love you. i love you. i love you. please pick up. for me, baby."

♡

note: OMG GOT MYSELF IN THE FEELS WRITING THIS!! thank you so so so much for all the support and love on my works you guys it means SO MUCH to me!! hope this can fill the hole that 'when it happened to me' left behind MWAH from gracie!!

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader | Chapter 4 - Trip Switch

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, mentions of food and eating, mentions of blood

Read it on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

2.3K words

You were roughly awakened by your ringtone obnoxiously blasting in your ears. It was Yelena. Before you swiped to answer you checked the time; 5:30 A.M.. 

“Hello?” You answered groggily. 

“Hey, sorry to call you this early. It’s kind of an emergency and we don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Can you come to the tower?” Yelena was obviously multitasking, her tone distant. You were already out of bed and looking around for clothes to wear. 

“I’ll be there in 30,” you replied. Yelena thanked you and hung up without any more details. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and gathered your stuff. You grabbed some clothes as well, for if the stay would be prolonged. You quickly brushed your teeth and scoured the internet for any big happenings that could require the team’s assistance, but came up empty. 

You were out of the door in record speed. Bob was likely still asleep, but Yelena’s voice had sounded concerned. She wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t necessary.

The Watchtower was empty when you arrived besides the doorman; nobody had started their workday yet. You greeted him with a nod as the automatic doors let you in. The path from your house to the penthouse had quickly become familiar. 

The team was already gone by the time you got there. Bob was nowhere to be found, probably still in bed as you’d assumed. How he hadn’t been awoken by the ruckus of the team leaving in an emergency was besides you. 

You dropped your bag next to the couch and walked into the kitchen. Might as well prepare an abundant breakfast for Bob and yourself while you have the time. 

You put on some light music and gathered supplies to cook Bob some pancakes. It was when you were washing your hands that you noticed the bruise around your wrist. It was where Bob had playfully gripped it the other day. He clearly didn’t know how strong he was, or at least didn’t have full control over it. You shrugged it off, dried your hands and started putting the dry ingredients in a bowl as you hummed to the tune playing from wherever the speakers in this damn place were. You glanced at the clock and saw it was already 6:30, an hour after Yelena had called for you to come over. 

You prepared a giant stack of pancakes, along with some other breakfast foods like eggs and toast. You made the table and admired the generous spread you’d prepared. You put the coffee machine on, preparing a big pot to drink throughout the day. If you had felt up to it you would’ve even squeezed fresh orange juice, but you figured the store bought stuff in the fridge would taste just fine alongside the homemade foods. 

“Wow…” The voice startled you. You’d been deep in thought and engrossed with the things you were putting on the table. You’d nearly dropped the carton of orange juice as you turned around, coming face to face with a sleepy Bob. 

“Sorry, did I wake you up? I wasn’t exactly being quiet,” you asked. 

“No, I usually wake up around this time, don’t worry. What’s all this?” Bob gestured to the table with wide eyes. 

“Yelena called like an hour and a half ago to ask if I could come over and I figured you were still asleep, so I thought I’d make us some breakfast,” you shrugged, putting the carton on the table and taking a seat. Bob followed your lead, sitting across from you. 

“This… This isn’t just breakfast. This is like a feast… Or a banquet. You made all this?” His voice was filled with wonder. 

“Bon appétit,” you smirked, grabbing your mug and taking a sip. If it were anybody else accompanying you, you would’ve thought you’d made way too much food. But Bob had proved the other day he was a bottomless pit when it came to food. Nothing proved less true when he inhaled 3 pieces of toast like they were air. 

The music was still playing softly as you ate in silence. It was nice. You wouldn’t need to retire anytime soon if this was what your job was going to be like all the time. 

“Can you pass me the bacon?” Bob asked after he took a big gulp of coffee. 

You reached across the table and Bob fell silent. You grabbed the plate of bacon and handed it to him, but paused when you saw his fallen expression. You followed his eyes to your wrist, where your sleeve had ridden up to reveal the bruise he’d left behind. 

“Is that… Did I do that?” His voice was so soft. 

“I mean, it doesn’t even hurt. Yelena said you’re not sure of your powers yet and I’m convinced you didn’t mean to,” you put the plate of bacon down and slowly munched on your food. 

“Just because I didn’t mean to doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Bob scoffed. His tone was surprisingly hollow and harsh. 

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. This never should’ve happened…” He contemplated for a second before loading his plate with food and standing up. 

“Thanks for the food, I really do appreciate it. And you,” he mumbled as he walked away with the plate. You were left alone at the table, confused as to what had just happened. He slammed the door to his room shut loudly, rattling it in its frame. You flinched and looked around the table defeatedly. Most of the food was gone by now, anyway. 

You sighed and decided to leave him be, for now. You knew what Yelena had said and what your job description was, but something inside you told you he needed some space. You cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. Somehow the room seemed more silent without Bob in it, even when he was usually a quiet companion. 

You grabbed your laptop out of your bag and sat at the kitchen island, trying to get some work in if you were going to be waiting for Bob to cool down. 

You were typing when the lights flickered a few times before switching off entirely, coming back on only after a few seconds. You gazed at the ceiling expectantly, waiting for the lights to flicker again or for something else strange to happen, but nothing did. You sighed and continued typing. Must’ve been a power surge of sorts. 

The elevator dinged, announcing someone’s arrival at the penthouse. You turned in your chair, seeing who it was. You recognized one of the two women, who was in the public eye of New York a lot, especially the last few months. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, or Val, as the team sometimes called her. The other younger girl was someone you didn’t know.

“Who are you?” Valentina frowned as she looked you up and down. You weren’t entirely sure how to answer, so you just told her your name and nothing else. 

“Well, what are you doing here? And where is everybody else?” Val scoffed. 

“I– uh, I look after Bob?” Your confused expression mirrored her own. 

“And where is Robert, exactly?” She crossed her arms. 

“In his room?” You cocked your head towards the hallway, where the bedrooms were located. 

“Tell me, is everything you say a question?” Val wondered. 

“No? I mean, no, it’s not.” The woman was somewhat intimidating, who could blame you. 

“Good. Now as for my previous question, where is everybody?” 

“I don’t know, actually. Yelena just called me this morning asking if I could come over. That’s all I know,” you told her. You hadn’t heard very good things about her, but were aware she still held some sense of power in the dynamic of the team. 

“To do what?” 

“Look after Bob, like I told you. I don’t have any more information than you do,” you raised your hands in defence. 

“I think she’s the ‘babysitter’ Bucky mentioned,” the other woman finally spoke quietly. She turned to address you, “I’m Melissa, but you can call me Mel.” You gave her an awkward wave. 

“Ah, the babysitter, right. Cute. That does mean I’m also your boss, of sorts. I pay your salary. So, employer to employee, can we have a small chat?” Val’s tone changed. You narrowed your eyes, unable to figure out what she was getting at. 

“You see, they took him from me. I can offer you a lot more money than whatever blondie offered,” Val sat down beside you. You subconsciously moved back a little. 

“To do what?” You asked. You didn’t want her dirty money, or anything to do with whatever she was planning. 

Val looked you over once again, scrutinising your face. She moved forward, her hand coming up to move a strand of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re pretty enough… He’s lonely, you just get on his good side for me, can you do that?” She was still uncomfortably close. The glass next to your laptop exploded suddenly, sending shards of glass flying outward. Luckily it was empty of any drink, your laptop unscathed.

You couldn’t say the same for your face. A shard had sliced your cheek, not deep, but enough to sting and bleed. Valentina had also gotten hit, though her face was intact, only a few shards being sent into the sleeve of her jacket as her hand was still near your face. 

You searched for the source of how this could’ve happened, spotting a tense looking Bob in the hallway. 

“Get away from her,” he didn’t sound like himself. When Valentina and Mel made no move to leave, he raised his voice. “I said LEAVE.” 

Val scrambled out of the chair, her and Mel quickly making their way back to the elevator. Whatever they’d come over for could wait until later. 

Bob waited until they were gone before slowly making his way over to you. You searched his face for an explanation, but came up empty. He moved the same piece of hair Val had back behind your ear, putting his hand under your chin and moving your face towards the light. He examined the cut. His eyes weren’t their usual blue colour, you noted. Something had set him off. 

He sat down in the chair Val had sat in and carefully took the piece of glass embedded in your cheek and pulled it out. You winced a little at the stinging sensation. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob apologized. “I overheard what she was saying… I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt, again.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lips tight in frustration. When he opened his eyes, they had returned to their usual hue. 

“It’s okay,” it was softer than you’d expected, a whisper. 

“No, it’s not. You’re not like me. You don’t have powers. You get hurt, you die, there’s no returning from that. I couldn’t live with myself if it was because of me,” Bob shook his head. 

You’d only known him for about two weeks, yet already seemed to understand the extreme doubt he had in himself. He would blame everything on himself, even when it was outside of his control. 

“You heard her? From your room?” You wondered, attempting to steer the conversation away from his guilt. 

“Yeah, my hearing ‘s like… Very good. Enhanced, I guess…” He was sweeping together the pieces of the bursted glass, refusing to meet your gaze. 

“Bob, hey, look at me,” you pleaded. He looked up and into your eyes. “I’d never do that to you, you hear? I’d never sell you out like that. I wouldn’t just betray your trust.” 

“It’s not… About that. I never really had anybody that cared about me. And now I have the team, and even though it’s only been a short time I feel like you care, too,” you nodded in agreement. “I guess I just never really realized that caring comes with a cost.” 

You urged him to continue, even when you already understood where he was going. 

“It comes with a vulnerability, I suppose. I wasn’t prepared to feel that vulnerable. You give and you take and you expect there to be a balance in friendship. I just… I’m scared that if I let people get too close they might use it against me. And with these powers…” Bob stared at his hands. 

You put a hand on his shoulder, but quickly moved it away when he flinched at the touch. You mumbled a soft apology before continuing. “It comes with a vulnerability, yes, but you also get love in return, and I think that’s quite a good deal.”

Bob agreed, but you could tell something had shifted. He’d shut back down again. Even if it wasn’t as bad as it had been before you’d gotten the job, you could tell you would need to pull him out of this before he spiralled in guilt and self doubt.

You attempted to suggest activities, but he turned them all down, opting to go back to his room. You cleaned the last pieces of glass in the kitchen and returned to working in silence, thinking the entire situation over. There had to be something you could do so Bob could realize he didn’t need to doubt himself. You quickly realized that, in the end, there was only one person who could ‘fix’ him. Bob himself. But the road was going to be difficult and he would need help along the way. That you could do. You couldn’t do it for him, but you could stand by his side. So you tried.

Chapter 5

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki @chimchoom @spidermiraculous-blog @s00ty-feet @28cnn @tinythebunni @softpia @roeroeroeyourboet @secretkittydreamland @cultish-corner @greenbean-4ever @t-rexs-world @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @ifilwtmfc @renren-006 @10ava01

[sxorpiomooon]

What kind of person are you truly? The good and the bad - a pac reading

for the days when you feel like no one knows or truly understands who you truly are, including yourself<3

Paid readings

tip me

Pile 1-

What's up with you guys and the number four? Were some of you also attracted to the fourth pile or what? Washing machine heart comes to my mind but I said heart? These people might love talking about love and might be interested in philosophy as well. Do you guys like nail paint? This pile is very feminine, even for the ones that feel like they are not you are trust me. You guys might have a good venus placements? Perhaps libra I'm not getting much pisces but could be cancer as well. You guys are calm and compassion "hold me, console me" played in my head I said heart again instead of head. You guys might love the sea? You guys also like cinnamon girl by lana del rey. Do you enjoy juices or perhaps coffee? I heard "I can bring others happiness without sacrificing my own" and honestly please do learn that. Stop making unnecessary sacrifices that are not needed stop pulling yourself in the front of a train. You don't have to be the one in the front of the bullet every time. Oo you guys like good shoes and I think they'll suit you well. You are calm and comforting providing comfort to way more people that you know while constantly being hanged on by a thread yourself oohoo start sewing or crocheting you guys might be good heard gemini perhaps bc it's done via your hands. People also see you as an "ideal feminine woman" btw alot of girls around you might want to be like you. Do you guys like winters or mufflers hahahahhaha. You are someone who likes to hype other people ho do you like concerts? Someone passionate and determined I saw an ink pen and jo march. You have a spark in you and remember no matter how much other people might try to steal it it will remain yours no matter what.

Pile 2-

OOO this is the pile of our high achievers and ambitious people the ivy league and the pile that is on the top. You guys like to be aware of everything happening around you I keep seeing a newspaper you keep in touch with all the news and buzz around you. Very quick to notice eyes and body movements lmao. You like to be two steps ahead of everyone I see you living your life very dramatically hahah bc it adds twist. This pile has people with very very high standards and that want to and will make it very big. You guys are constantly building yourself up and levelling yourself up via your skills. Constantly learning to be at the top and never lose their position I keep hearing ceos and all that. You guys love to have titles in front of your names might have capricorn or virgo asc in their d10 or I'm seeing sun rahu conjunction or something. Wants to be at the top and will be at the top. I see these guys being winners public opinion also matters you alot in a way that you want everyone to see your success and clap for you and so they will. You guys want to be at the authority this might piss alot of you but y'all might be like your father's like him started playing. You guys might have control issues and might start acting up/tweaking when you lose it. Stop ignoring other aspects of life

Pile 3-

I thought of the word "therapist" before I pulled the cards and looking at the cards y'all need to talk to one instead of being one<3 to start with the good you guys are brilliant leaders and bring happiness whenever you go. It's like a street filled with unhappy people will be happy and bought to joy if we send you there. You have the ability to make things and people work. You have the ability to make things feel hopeful and have people wishing of the best even when they almost gave up. You are able to hype other people ho and sort of bring them hope. You are sucessful and some of you might have good family backgrounds as well privileged in some manner? Alot of respect or authority is just handed to you I heard resources? This pile has people that are OBSESSED with working not because you like it or something bc this is just something that happens to you naturally. You don't know how to never not work. You also might sometimes be obsessed with the luxurious things not because tou like it but because you want to show off or like prove it to other people? I think some of you didn't have these luxuries growing up so now when you are capable of having them you own them even when they bring you no happiness. This pile has alot of unresolved traumas and a emotional baggage. This pile might have or will have to leave alot behind to get in this position. Honestly I feel like this is not who you are currently but this is the future you. I feel like this reading is for the people who just need to hear that they will be okay and they will make all their big dreams that seem unreachable or unattainable to other people come true. I'm rooting for you my pile 3

Pile 4-

you might forget things while speaking or thinking only your mind might get foggy? This pile might be struggling with some of their issues alone I'm seeing face acne but could be any other issue that you are insecure about. You guys sort of choose to deal and suffer alone. I heard "void" and a song that translates to "please don't go like this" keeps playing in my head might be scared of getting left by people or might have the fear that they will never be known and loved for who they truly are. But how would you even know that when you will never reveal or let other people see who you truly are? in order to be loved for who you truly are you must first reveal to other people who you truly are. This pile feels ashamed to ask others for help. This pile might like lip gloss/lipstick or might look good in them. It's crazy how they deal with their problems and issues alone because all and everyone's eyes are always on them. Everyone is always looking at you and all the eyes are always on you. My pile four, you shine so bright and I think you do know this but I don't think you are able to truly grasp how much bright you shine. It's like if you are in a room full of people there is only you in front of people's eyes. And this is not something that's romantic but something that there just is. You are truly charming and enchanting. Your presence demands to be looked at and be appreciated. You make people feel hopeful and look at the bright side. You can find the light for other people even in the darkest of the streets. A true poetic by heart naturally filled with the desire to create and articulate. It's very tragic how everyone's always looking at you yet you are so lonely and alone. I heard poetic again and saw a dove? You will find your match my pile four. You will find the love and light that you give to others. Fourth of July by sufjan stevens started playing. You guys might like the piano too.

[ggidolsmuts]

The Girl That's Out of This World - tripleS Yooyeon

"Liftoff in 3, 2, 1!"

You're slammed into your jump seat, the g-forces pressing against you, metaphorical straps against the literal straps around you. Your ears are filled with the loud roar of thruster explosions, your eyes only seeing blue, then white, then grey as your vessel strives to break through the atmosphere. It's a rough launch, there's lots of rattling, maybe this is the one time things go sideways—fuck why are you thinking like that, fuck fuck fuck—

Everything goes black, and you blink, finding yourself in the stars.

"You good?"

"Yeah, bit of a bumpy launch eh?"

"Eh, it was fine." That's Kim Yooyeon for you, your fellow astronaut on this trip, utterly unflappable she might as well be gliding through life, so unfazeable that she might as well be her own phase of matter. She's already unbuckling herself from the seat and floating to the back. The mission is long, 2 months to be exact, but there's lots to do. "Monitor the systems."

"Copy." You stay seated, coordinating with mission control until finally you call out to her.

"We're enroute to the space station."

"Copy, support systems are operational, no damage from the launch."

"Really? After all that rattling?"

"All bark and no bite, luckily." Yooyeon straps in again next to you. "Get some sleep, it'll be a few hours before we get to the station." You lean back, and allow yourself to fall asleep to the beeps of the systems and the silence of space.

A higher pitched beep jolts you out of your sleep, and you see the space station ahead.

"Beginning docking maneuvers," you announce, and Yooyeon has shaken herself awake, repeating your order back to you. Both of you hold your breath as you watch the station loom over your craft, and the screen shows your shuttle closing in on the docking port. You move the controls slightly, there's a rumble as contact is made, followed by the whirr of locking mechanisms, and finally—

"Docking complete." Both of you lean back in your seats as the most stressful part of the mission is done.

"Good job, let's get out of here." Yooyeon floats to the shuttle exit ahead of you, and after disengaging the door locks you're both drifting into the space station. "Ah, finally out of this suit."

As you step out of your spacesuit, the helmet catches on your head, giving you a proper smack. You had forgotten—no, not forgotten, gotten used to—how pretty Yooyeon looks. She was the belle of the space force, as pretty as she is sharp. Many of your colleagues were envious that you got to go on a space mission with her, to accompany the angel on her way back to heaven, so to speak. Over the multiple weeks of intense training and preparation though, Yooyeon became your colleague, your teammate, responsible for your life just as you are responsible for hers on this mission, with safety being the priority above all else.

So you stopped seeing Yooyeon superficially, and yet, a far way from the surface of the Earth, you catch yourself staring at her beauty—long black hair, round eyes, ruby lips, delicate as a flower. Yet she's up here in space with you, suffering through the grueling launch and coming out looking like that, while you just... look like you.

"Have you forgotten how to remove the jumpsuit already? We spent so much time training on that."

"Just adjusting to the low grav environment," you mutter as an excuse. The two of you tour the space station, floating through the various segments that make up the station. You arrive at the living quarters—they're small and claustrophobic, but as with anything when you're in space, ironically space is at a premium. Your sleeping cabin is effectively an open coffin, complete with straps to stop you from floating away, there's a curtain for privacy, but that's about it.

Then there's a small kitchen, which is basically just the area that has the "cooking" machine, reheating and rehydrating space food for human consumption. There's a bathroom, also small, and finally the main body of the station where you'll be conducting science experiments, observing the stars, and watching over Earth.

"Everything is operational," Yooyeon speaks into the microphone, communicating with mission control.

"Roger, please begin the experiments whenever you're ready."

The two of you throw yourselves into the work, working with the command center and logging experiment results. In between experiments there were a lot of maintenance to be done, and you two find yourselves in the little nooks and crannies of the space station, checking for cracks, leaks, and loose bolts. It put the two of you in close quarters, and with no perfect substitute for weightlessness there was no small amount of accidental touches and brushes—you didn't notice your hand drifting close to her chest, she didn't notice her leg drifting between yours. But things remained professional for Yooyeon—everything addressed without fluster or embarrassment. You are in space after all, there were much bigger things to be worried about.

You wish you could say the same for yourself. You knew you would have to abstain as much as possible in space, as any cleanup would be quite hard when everything is quite literally floating about, but over time it became harder and harder to ignore Yooyeon. She dressed simply in a t-shirt and shorts most of the time, and even that was enough to distract you—when did her legs look so good, and her thighs muscled yet juicy, how did you not notice it before?

The breaking point came when Yooyeon pushed herself off a wall to get through the station quickly, only to collide with you coming out of the sleeping quarters and sending both of you spinning through the corridor.

"Ah! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were awake— Ah!" After the collision her top had come loose and it had ridden up, floating well above her waist, giving you a peek at her midriff and simple bra underneath. Hastily she pulls it down, a light blush on her cheeks. "Sorry about that, I thought the coast was clear."

"Yeah, no problem, go ahead. I'll sleep in for a little longer." It was an excuse, as your morning wood had come back in full force—you're way too frustrated to function. As Yooyeon floats away you make the decision to get yourself off, to just get it out of the way. You pull out a foil packet—condoms that your colleagues had pushed on to you.

"Dude why would I need condoms in space?"

"You're up there with Yooyeon, just the two of you, literally no one else in the world there."

"But we're in space, nothing's going to happen, we're not going to have sex in space."

"Who said anything about sex? Sure she wouldn't have sex with you, but just looking at her might be enough after a few weeks up there! What if you just need to get one off, you want your cum floating around in the space station? If you don't take this, when I'm next on the space station I am bringing a black light."

"You guys are fucking ridiculous!" You stuff the foil-wrapped rubbers into a discreet pocket just to shut them up.

Annoyed at your colleagues being right you wrap your tip with the rubber and wrap your hand around your shaft. Your colleagues missed on something though, that it is fucking weird to masturbate in space, in weightlessness, while trying to make sure the condom doesn't slip; while you have no material to work with at all, just the memory of Yooyeon's midriff and bra and thighs; while Yooyeon's looking at you.

Wait what?

"Y-Yooyeon!" you choke out.

"Shh!" She glares at you, and you remember that the monitoring mics are live as work hours just started—two way communication with mission control is great, making you feel less lonely on the space station, but now is the worst time for that! "Do you need my help?" Yooyeon whispers. She's tying her hair up, your brain short-circuting as the ponytail floats in mid-air.

"What? Sorry I— Let me—" Your hands waves about frantically, trying to remove the condom, pull your boxers on, stuff your cock back in, pull your pants back on, and not float towards her while you do it all at the same time.

"Just let me help you." Her hand stops you from pulling up your boxers, and in the next moment Yooyeon's lips are wrapped around your shaft. Your mind is spinning, from the absolute shattering of the image you have of her, to the fact that both of you are floating in space. You grab on to a bar that's in reach, making sure that the sight of Yooyeon giving you a blowjob doesn't float through the space station for any cameras to catch. Your other hand is on Yooyeon's head, presumably to make sure she doesn't float away from you, but more because you never wanted to leave her mouth!

The two of you are near horizontal, lying in weightlessness as Yooyeon continues to push her gorgeous face on your cock. Her tongue swirls, her cheeks hollow, Yooyeon is doing everything to get you to cum.

"Yooyeon!" you whisper harshly, and she flicks her eyes up at you. You throb one last time, and Yooyeon devours you to the base, her nose bumping into your crotch as you begin spilling everything into her mouth. You're pent up after weeks without satisfaction, and now all you can do is keep yourself quiet, biting your t-shirt as you watch Yooyeon stay planted on your hips, your thick and salty load going straight down her throat. Your hips buck, and the motion moves Yooyeon with it as you spurt one more shot into her mouth.

When she finally gets off your cock, her eyes are a little watery, but other than a little swipe of her lips there's no indication that Kim Yooyeon just swallowed the biggest load of your life like it's just another Tuesday (or Wednesday, time gets funny in space).

"All good? Be sure to clean up," she mumbles, and floats away.

What the hell just happened?

Yooyeon leaves you to collect yourself, and she collects her own thoughts too—she had wanted to check in on you, make sure you weren't hurt from the collision earlier. Yet when she saw you in that state, she wanted to make sure things were safe—it wouldn't do to have globs of cum or a filled condom floating in space, an actual choking and biohazard. So she took it upon herself to swallow it all and—

"Mmgh!" Yooyeon can feel it inside her—digesting food is a little odd in space, and when she's swallowed an extra meal worth of seed it is more than a little off, and she suddenly feels full. She puts a hand over her midriff, but has to resist moving it lower. Just as you were pent up, Yooyeon was equally frustrated. She had wondered if you were able to sneak in a self-love session or two, but she never noticed any signs or traces of it, which is good. Now with your abundant load inside her she realizes why that was.

Sadly for her there's no way she could do it, and she shudders and tries to calm herself, to think about the work ahead and not what's in her... No, better to not think about anything being "inside" herself right now.

As the work day winds down on the space station you approach Yooyeon.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I thought I was alone. You didn't have to, you know."

"I— Yeah, it was unprofessional of me, I just wanted to make sure there wouldn't be anything floating around, I'm sorry."

"N-No no, not at all." You can't believe your ears, Yooyeon's apologizing for blowing you! "Thanks for keeping us safe, I guess?"

"Yeah. Is there anything else?"

"No, please let me know if you ever need some privacy, so we can avoid something like this in the future. I can give you plenty of space."

"That won't be needed, it is infeasible for me to do it in space." You blink rapidly at Yooyeon admission—what does she even mean?

With your pent up frustration relieved you don't think too much of things, and nothing seems to have changed with how Yooyeon treats you, so it fades a little into the background for you as you are consumed by the work that needs to be done.

But for Yooyeon her frustration only builds, she catches herself looking at you below the waist on more than one occasion, wondering if you were hard, wondering if she could see it again. She had not planned on masturbating on this mission, but after what happened she's finding herself flush and warm often. Yet she can't take any more clothes off, taking off anything more would be because— No, she shouldn't think about sex, it doesn't help things! 

The breaking point comes quietly for Yooyeon, on another chance collision. The two of you are passing through the narrow corridors in opposite directions—Yooyeon has just washed up, and you're on the way to do as well. She slips when she tries to push herself through the narrow gap, sending her bumping into you.

"Yooyeon, are you okay? You feel really warm, is it a fever?" You're holding her close, a hand on her forehead. "You're burning, let me get a thermometer."

"No! I just need some rest, I'll turn in early tonight." The truth is Yooyeon's effectively in heat, the sudden close proximity and touch catching her off guard. She retreats to her "bed", strapping herself down and trying to calm herself. She presses her thighs together, hoping her shorts and underwear can absorb enough of her wetness, but it has the opposite effect, as the added friction makes her rub her legs together subconsciously.

When you finish cleaning yourself you return to the sleeping quarters and tie yourself down, but as you try to fall asleep you realize that the usual white noise of the space station is not as it usually is. You hear a continuous rustle, like someone tossing and turning. Yooyeon having trouble sleeping? You debate if you should call out, potentially disturbing her rest even more. Your attentive ears pick up on more detail—the rustle is persistent, less tossing and turning and more rubbing together of fabric. Every so often there is a deep exhale, and you realize what is going on.

"Yooyeon, do you need my help?"

Yooyeon freezes in her bed, like she's standing in front of a line. She knows what you are asking, and you know that she knows, which is why you asked; and she knows that you know that she knows, and so she answers...

"Yes."

She can hear you undo your straps, and soon you would be floating towards her, and then— You're here already, pulling open the curtains! In the dark Yooyeon prays that you don't see her blush, but everything else is showing—her thighs tightly pressed together, her hand down her own shorts, a fistful of absorbent sheets in the other.

"Tell me what you need."

"I need— Want to get off, but the sheets need to be there."

"I can umm, just swallow it all." Yooyeon's heat only grows, now she's thinking about you down there, eating her out and— oh god...

"No, I get really wet when it happens." There's little embarrassment left in Yooyeon, she needed to get off more than anything else! You pause for a moment, and Yooyeon gets even wetter, watching you watch her.

"Give me the sheets." You move in close to Yooyeon, taking them from her. You gently nudge her thighs open with your knee.

"Do you want to take off your shorts—" She pulls one leg out, enough to give you access to her over her underwear.

"No, just like this is good," is her immediate reply. You press the sheets against your thigh and then nudge up between her legs. Instantly Yooyeon traps you there, and so forceful is the shove of her hips downwards that you have to hold on to her to not be pushed away. When you steady yourself to look at Yooyeon the view is mesmerizing—from the neck up, Yooyeon might as well be asleep, eyes closed and breathing deeply. From the waist down however she's outright riding you, grinding herself on your thigh with hip gyrations you didn't even know she could make. She's grinding down on you so hard you have to push up against her, to counteract her strength in the weightless environment.

You're glued to Yooyeon's gorgeous face, even in the dark she looks like she's glowing. You watch her bite the inside of her cheek, her brow furrow slightly, and then she goes slack.

"I'm done," she says quietly. "Thank you."

"Hmm?" It was barely noticeable! Yooyeon was stoic but you never thought she would be this restrained even in climax. "Right."

"Do you need me to help you with that?" You look down at where she's looking—your stiffness poking into her thighs.

"N-No, I'm good, it'll go down. I'll dispose of these, you should rest."

"Okay, thank you." You realize you have to peel the absorbent sheets off your thigh—despite her lack of reaction to her orgasm, she's completely soaked through the multiple layers. As you hold it in your hand you squeeze it a little too hard, and some of it is released. "Oh there's—" Yooyeon can only blush as you catch them in your mouth, swallowing her juices. "You didn't have to do that."

"You did for me, I'm just making sure there are no choking hazards. Good night."

Yooyeon watches you drift away without another word, and her mind is a jumble. She's basking in the glow of her orgasm, oh how she needed that! But she's also conflicted—it was professionally inappropriate, she should never have agreed to your help! She probably should not have sucked you off before either, and it's all a big mess now. Disturbingly, after feeling your hardness poke against her, it's all she can think about even after getting herself off. 

Having disposed of the sheets you float back to bed, trying to calm yourself down and go to sleep. When you hear Yooyeon move in her bed, you clear your throat softly, reminding yourself to not treat every noise from her as sexual.

"Good night." Yooyeon's voice comes soft and clear across space.

You realize neither of you are going to get much sleep that night, and you take a deep breath, trying not to think too much about Yooyeon still being awake.

"G-Good night."

The last two weeks were borderline unbearable, and both of you were on edge. Far above earth, in your little space haven, you and Yooyeon felt like Adam and Eve, having sinfully tasting the sweetness of the forbidden fruit that one time. Yet you're unable to consume each other, to relive it over and over again. Yooyeon has tried to remain professional, but you know she feels the same way, as you've caught her staring just as she has caught you looking—not once has she said anything, reprimanded you for letting your desires get the better of you. Every time you have to slip past her in the corridors, your bodies close to touching, is when space has felt the most dangerous. Even when you had to go on a spacewalk, to fix something on the outside of the station, when all that keeps you from drifting into the void is Yooyeon making sure that you remain tethered, the most dangerous time was when you returned to the station, and Yooyeon was there to help you out of the spacesuit, stripping you, her face at eye level with your crotch. It was almost too much for either of you.

Almost. Somehow nothing happens, and you're strapped into the return capsule with Yooyeon, both of you ready to head home.

"Disengaging the locks."

"Triggering push-off mechanism."

It's almost imperceptible in space, but you're lightly nudged against your seat as the capsule pushes away from the space station. A few minutes later you trigger the thrusters to put you on a trajectory back to Earth. It begins to take up most of your view as you get closer, and you monitor the panels in front of you, watching the readings go down until...

"Entering atmosphere!" Yooyeon starts the return sequence, and all you can do is wait. It gradually gets louder in the capsule as you fall at terminal velocity, and the capsule rattles and shakes. You look out the capsule window, and all you see is red, the air now superheated as it rubs against the surface of your survival cell. A boom, intended of course, is heard as the heat shield around the capsule, having served its purpose, is blown off. Then a second explosion, and you're snapped back even harder against your seat as the parachutes deploy, slowing you down further. A loud continuous roar fills your ears as thrusters fire up, and you and Yooyeon brace for a hopefully survivable impact.

No training could prepare you for this, it still feels like you're going down too damn fast, and all you can do is close your eyes and hope it's enough. Your bones rattle when you finally hit the ground, but you breathe a sigh of relief when everything goes quiet.

"Yooyeon?"

"Yeah, I'm here." She gives you a thumbs up. "All in one piece." You fire one back at her. The capsule door opens up to a rush of people, and both of you are extracted. Quickly you are transported to a hotel, where the two of you are sat down and given a physical.

"Okay, so you two are in good physical condition it looks like, but we're going to keep you in this hotel under observation for another week."

"We can't leave?"

"Preferably not, there will be media hanging around, and we need to do the debrief before you speak with them. You're free to order room service or have food delivered, anything else you need, just let us know."

"Got it."

"Will we have clothes?" Yooyeon pipes up.

"Yes, we'll have a suitcase of your clothes brought up. If there's something missing your family is free to send stuff over." With no further questions you and Yooyeon are led to adjoining rooms. Although your body has no idea what time it is, as soon as you fall on the bed you moan at finally feeling a mattress on your back and a pillow under your head, and you quickly fall asleep.

Until a rude banging at your door wakes you.

"What the hell? I just got here!" you mutter as you pull the door open annoyed, only to see Yooyeon.

"It's been 5 hours." Yooyeon clarifies. You blink once for every hour you have apparently slept for.

"Has it? Damn, sorry. The bed felt so nice I must have just, yeah."

"Same, I just got up too. It's midnight though and nothing's open, do you want to order room service?"

"Sure but... You want to eat with me?"

"Well we ate every meal together on the space station so I thought—" Yooyeon drifts off, a little abashed. "Sorry, I got too used to the routine out there, have a good night!" You hold the door ajar before she can close it.

"No wait, you're right, let's get some food."

Neither of you order much—despite it being midnight, having just gotten up both of you eat only enough for a "breakfast". As soon as that's done, there's an awkward silence—in space there's jobs to do, experiments to check on, on Earth, right now there's nothing to do, only each other for company, and soon all the "non-work" stuff that happened on the space station floats up in your minds. Yooyeon's the first to breach it, and she does it in the only way she knows how.

"We should have sex."

"Yooyeon what?"

"After... that time, things changed slightly on the station, I know you felt it too. We couldn't get it out of our system then, but you know, we can now. I haven't had a chance to, you know, satisfy myself. Unless you have already, then I'll just—" Yooyeon's words speed up as she realizes what she's admitting to you, that sex has been on her mind since landing back on Earth, that she hasn't gotten herself off yet. With her words, you realize of course, that you haven't gotten yourself off either.

"We should do it, I want to do it too." You barely recognize your own husky voice. The two of you almost defy gravity, flying to the bedroom. There's no shame or shyness, Yooyeon's naked and you're nude in a flash—this was pure need, the tension that built way above Earth crashing down on your bed. No foreplay, no checking with Yooyeon, you needed to be in her. She's tighter and wetter than anything you could imagine in your frustrating fantasies, and you moan, enjoying the feeling of being able to sink into her.

You start with a few thrusts, groaning at how she grips you—she needed this as much as you do! But when you don't hear anything from her at all, you stop and check on Yooyeon—she has her eyes closed again, her chest lightly moving, like she was riding your thigh instead of your cock. You didn't expect a strong reaction from her, but you definitely expected some reaction.

"Yooyeon? You okay?"

"Yeah, it feels good. Why?"

"Just um, couldn't tell if you were enjoying it. I thought you would like it more than what we did on the space station."

"Oh, sorry, yeah it's good. I'm not... very fun in bed. You're my third and... The first two guys didn't go so great."

"How so?"

"The first guy, we broke up because I was too messy in bed." After seeing how wet Yooyeon got, and how she's already making a small wet spot on the bed, you disagree but his loss is arguably your gain.

"And the second guy?"

"Said I was like a dead fish in bed, I ditched him because I caught him with someone louder and more 'fun', his words."

"Damn, that's rough, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, but yes it's great for me, I'll try to be more responsive if I can."

"Just tell me what you're feeling." You start moving in and out of her again.

"It feels good." You hug her, whispering into her ear.

"Tell me more, more than good."

"You're stretching me, I haven't done this in a while, so it's really intense. You're also... wide? It's different." It's both hot and a bit disconcerting, hearing Yooyeon's version of dirty talk.

"What do you want from me? Should I go slower, faster, deeper, shallower?"

"I..." Yooyeon falls silent as she tries to process your words and feel you at the same time. She didn't lie when she said she felt good, and maybe it's because she's finally getting some after the tension in space, but Yooyeon knows she's wetter than usual, her walls extra sensitive. She's too tense, she should relax more, enjoy the sex and—

"More!" Yooyeon's yelp surprises both of you. As she consciously relaxes, her walls give a little, and when you thrust you end up just that little bit deeper in her. It hits her like a comet—Yooyeon's hand on her mouth, eyes wide open, but her pussy flutters around your shaft. You pull out slowly, and when you sink back in, making sure to get just as deep as you did before, Yooyeon whines—she wants this, this is different!

"Something tells me you're not wholly at fault for being a dead fish in bed."

"Deep! It feel so— Mmm!" Yooyeon tries to muffle herself with her hand, and you have to pull it away. "I'm sorry I can't—"

"Don't hold back, now you sound like you're having fun."

Yooyeon can feel her cheeks heating up—normally she's reserved, in control of herself. Even when she's horny she just gets wet, but she never makes a sound, not if she doesn't want to—feeling good is one thing, showing that she's feeling good is another thing altogether. And yet as she looks down her body, when she watches your slick covered shaft enter her and feels the immense pressure as you push in, like you're splitting her open; when she hears the squelch of her own pussy, and feels her thighs get wet when she leaks and squirts more juice; when her chest swells, and the moan she's holding back pushes its way out of her mouth, Yooyeon can't help but think that losing control of herself feels good, that feeling so much pleasure until she loses control is amazing.

"It feels so good, don't stop, don't stop!" Yooyeon cries out, like you've unblocked or unsealed something deep inside of her. Your own head is spinning, her sudden transformation shocking you and pushing you to go even harder, to hear more of her. You grab her thighs, squeezing them and pulling her towards you on every thrust. She's splattering against your hips on every thrust, your grip on her thighs is fucking slippery. You notice her thighs are around red around where you're grabbing her, but then no, the flush is spreading throughout Yooyeon's body.

"Oh!" It's a sharp yelp, one that gives you pause—Yooyeon's looking down her body at you, and you feel her legs shaking. She opens her mouth to say something, but it's too late.

"FUCK!" Yooyeon throws her head back and screams. Her hips buck strongly, causing you to slip out of her. You suddenly feel something warm on your stomach—thick and translucently white, sliding down your body.

Kim Yooyeon's girl cum, ejaculated, ejected, expelled! Splattered all over you.

The sound of Yooyeon swearing for the first time you can remember, the sight of Yooyeon's body twisted in ecstasy, and the warm, gooey sensation of Yooyeon so thoroughly losing it—everything combines to send you over the edge. You're cumming too, your cock throbbing with a mind of its own, leaking onto Yooyeon. You're just as pent up as her, and you let out a low moan as your hand moves automatically, stroking and firing your load all over Yooyeon's trembling body.

"Ah... Damn Yooyeon!" You manage to roll yourself on your back, not landing on Yooyeon and not getting too much of her cream on the bed. The two of you just lie there, breathing heavily, riding the high of finally getting to fuck.

"Mmm..." Yooyeon's mind is floating like she's back in space, and she has to curl her toes to remind herself she's still alive and conscious. She swears she can still feel you throbbing inside her, something more alive than her. When she opens her eyes again she finally sees the ceiling instead of stars, and she hears your rough breathing next to her. Yooyeon runs a hand down her body, finding herself sweaty and sticky—it really happened, you two just had sex, and it was the most intense pleasure she ever felt. "Wow."

"Yeah. You okay?"

"Yes, just, never felt quite like that before." She has to bite her lip to stop a whimper from coming out—just your touch on her body, the tissues you're rubbing on her to clean her up, is sending sparks flying in her head. An irresistible urge is building inside Yooyeon, a newly awakened need. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Can I kiss you?" You blink at her, confused, but you see her squirming under your gaze.

"I mean, we've done everything past kissing so, why not?"

Yooyeon climbs into your lap, resting her hands around your neck. Your eyes rove up her body, from her thighs straddling you, pussy lips still parted slightly, to her chest, nipples still stiff, at attention, yearning for more. Your gaze goes to her lips, and you can see the teeth mark, where she bit down on earlier, and you look to her—

Her lips are too close!

"Mmph!" Yooyeon's short hair tickles your shoulders, but more importantly her lips are soft against yours, and she's leaving her marks on your lip, lightly nipping and tugging. Yooyeon pushes herself more insistently on to you, you have to take more of her weight until—

"Yooyeon!" You have to lie down, and Yooyeon's clinging to you on top, her arms wrapped around your neck and shoulders.

"Can we cuddle like this?

"If you want." To your surprise Yooyeon sighs, and she melts into you, face buried in your neck and completely relaxed.

"You okay?"

"Mm, let's just stay like this." Finally satisfied and happy Yooyeon lets her mind wander, her breath warm on your neck. She never felt like cuddling with her exes, but then again she's never felt this good sleeping with them. They would be out of bed by now, leaving Yooyeon alone in bed or worse, having to get herself off. "Why didn't we do this sooner?" she sighs, whispering to herself.

"We were in space." Yooyeon freezes—she didn't think you heard that! "The cleanup would have been impossible."

"I know, I meant, before that."

"Well, you were you, and I was I."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're not dumb, you know we do not look... good together." Yooyeon pushes herself up, and she looks annoyed, almost angry.

"So? What about now? We work well together, I know I can trust you with my life, we can rely on each other even in space, there's nothing more important than that."  Yooyeon's gaze is piercing through you, she's dead serious. "Don't you agree?"

"Yeah but, that's different—" Yooyeon kisses you again.

"I like you, I can't say I love you yet, but that comes with time right?" Her confession keeps you silent. "Besides, we're having sex, making love, as they call it. We just need to make more love."

"I don't think that's—" She nips on your earlobe, and you're finding yourself speechless more often than not around Yooyeon.

"I do think we feel good together, I don't think you dislike me, so I would like us to feel good, a lot." You never realized Yooyeon could switch on a dime like this, she's trying to seduce you.

"I don't dislike you, of course," you answer, throat dry, scarcely believing what's happening.

"Good, I'm happy. We just need to make lots of love then. Can you go again?" She's reaching down your body, finding your cock and stroking it, feeling it's firmness in her grasp.

"Yeah." You manage to confirm Yooyeon's findings, choking out a gasp at the end as she runs a finger over your tip.

"I'll be on top, I think I'm wet enough already." She most certainly is as your cock feels like it's being covered by the best "wet blanket" ever when she sinks down on to you. "You're getting really... Ah! Deep in me!" Her hand flies down to her flat tummy, right below her bellybutton, as if showing you just how far you're reaching into her. "I'm surprised you're not pushing a bulge out of me, it certainly feels like it."

"Yooyeon you can't just say that!" you murmur through gritted teeth. Yooyeon's weirdly technical interpretation of dirty talk is very effective, making you process what she means, and immediately allowing your imagination to show them to you in vivid detail.

"I'm just telling you what I feel. I'm sorry I'm getting you so wet, you remember how I was on the space station right? This is like ten, no, a hundred times more intense!" It certainly is true for you—you watched Yooyeon grind herself on your thigh to get off, and have replayed that scene in your head numerous times afterwards. Yet nothing prepares you for how Yooyeon's grinding down on you now, arguably even more strongly and demanding. With gravity and a bed to push against, Yooyeon's half bouncing and half grinding herself into you, and every time she sinks down on to your shaft, it's like she's pumping herself for juices, leaking her slick all over your crotch.

Except this time you can see her expression—her eyes are still closed, but her mouth is slightly open, letting out small moans. Her brow tenses and relaxes, as do her lips, the edges of her mouth curling into a smile every time she does so, like she's cumming again and again. It is as if Yooyeon has let all her guards down, and she looks utterly divine, like she does belong in heaven.

Oh, and her pussy has a velvet grip around your cock the whole time, trying to tug and suck and pull the cum right out of you.

"When we fall in love, I want us to procreatively fornicate like this."

"Pro-what?"

"Procreative fornication. You know, babymaking sex, breeding."

"You can't just say that, unless you want that to happen right now you should get off!"

"What? Why?"

"I can't hold on much longer, I'm going to cum in you!"

"Oh, you want to start right now? That's a little early but I don't mind..." You were going to stop her, trying to stop yourself, trying to clarify that she misunderstood, but Yooyeon leans in and whispers in your ear.

"You can fill me up."

With a rasp you draw a deep breath and grab Yooyeon by the hips, pulling her down fully. It is the best misunderstanding of your life as you unload deep inside her, with Yooyeon narrating dirtily into your ear the whole time.

"Ah! It's so warm inside me, you still have so much for me? You're really filling me up I— Nngh it's too much!" Yooyeon moans and buries her face in your shoulder. She shudders, and sighs, cumming again and prolonging your climax. You continue to weakly thrust up into her, and Yooyeon's body undulates with you, both of you trying to milk each other for all the pleasure you can get.

You're cuddling Yooyeon again right after, your load still freshly dripping between her legs—you wanted to clean her up, but she refuses to, insisting on cuddling first.

"Why did you let me cum in you?"

"I thought you wanted to."

"I do. No I mean, eventually, but not right now!"

"Are you worried about being safe?" You nod. "We're not in space anymore, we don't have to be safe on Earth." You can't tell if Yooyeon's messing with you, or if your point is orbiting Earth and has sailed over her head completely.

"No safe like, what if you get pregnant now?"

"Oh, I'm on pills, can you imagine ovulating in space? I'll go off it slowly so, it can't happen right now, but in the future." You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good, we really shouldn't rush into things like that." You watch Yooyeon dip a hand between her legs, swiping up some of your seed before smearing it on her thigh.

"Of course, but for the time being, you can finish in me whenever you want, it felt really nice." You shake your head, and Yooyeon looks at you quizzically. "What?"

"How can you just say that so casually?"

"You told me to tell you how I feel. I just stated a fact, and then how I felt about it."

"You're impossible, say it again?"

"You can finish in me whenever you want, it feels really good?" You chuckle and kiss a nonplussed Yooyeon.

"You have no idea how hot you sound."

The first night Yooyeon returned to her room to sleep, but by Day 3 you're going to her bedroom to sleep, because you've discovered that Yooyeon was, for lack of a better term, a wet nympho, and she has completely ruined your sheets by coming over nightly.

That's not the only thing you've discovered about Yooyeon either—she's wet when she's on top, but when you're in charge Yooyeon can't help but get sticky, creaming around your cock instead of squirting on you. Yooyeon's discovering a lot about you too, encouraging you to find out more.

"I like grinding on your thigh, do you want to see if you like rubbing yourself on my thighs?" You do, and to her surprise Yooyeon finds the back of her thighs sticky and warm after giving you a thighjob.

"Do you want my hair up or down when I use my mouth? Oh, or you can decide!" That's how you find yourself holding on to Yooyeon's hair, tugging it as she sucks you off. There's no need to keep her from floating away, and you can't help but push her down on to you. She forgets about gravity, and your load spills out from her mouth, prompting an emergency cleanup for the both of you.

Yooyeon's discovering a lot about herself as well, and she tells you every single lurid detail.

"Oh, right there... you're pushing against my cervix there, it's so... nngh! You're so big!"

"Put your hand here, press down and— Ah! You feel even bigger like that, can you feel yourself? You're rubbing my g-spot so well. I think I like it more from behind, you seem to thrust harder from behind, is it because you like it more?"

"Yes," you growl out, answering Yooyeon's rambling dirty talk succinctly, thrusting into her harder.

"You're throbbing so hard, how are you getting bigger? Are you close? Can we finish together? I want us to finish together, and I'm so close I— Nnngh thank you!"

By Day 5 both of you are down to only one set of clothing left, which you wear only when the two of you have debriefs or checkups during the day. Yooyeon decides to completely forgo clothing around you otherwise, and right after that you make the same decision, the two of you going from forward-looking astronauts to Adam and Eve in about a week.

"I'm so tired, but I don't want to stop..." Yooyeon whines as you pound down into her prone form.

"We should, ugh, take a break soon."

"After this, maybe. Can you mating press me?" It's so completely casual now the way she asks for it, and you comply just as naturally, kissing her as you bend her knees all the way back to her shoulders.

"I'm so sore but it still feels so good!"

"Same, I'll cum with you, cum hard for me!" You pin her wrists with your hand, rendering her powerless to do anything, and she loses it.

"Ah! I will if you ask me to—" Yooyeon screams as you bend her knees back just that little bit more, thumping against her sweet spot, and she splatters you with sticky creamy girl cum right as you flood her womb with thick seed. Your arms give out and you collapse on top of her, utterly drained. Yooyeon giggles as she strokes your hair, knowing that you've spent yourself completely in her.

"My turn to cuddle you."

And on the seventh day you rested. The two of you come out of the observation period more ragged and drained than when you entered. You were able to explain it away as recovering from getting acclimated to Earth's gravity, but from the looks housekeeping gave you they definitely knew that you two were busy acclimating to each other instead, you just pray they don't tell anyone. 

"We should go out," you bring up to Yooyeon once people are out of earshot.

"We are outside," Yooyeon answers nonchalantly.

"No, like on a date."

"Sure, which day did you have in mind?"

"No Yooyeon, like—"

"Friday at 7?" She's smiling—she really does have the ability to render you speechless.

"I uh, yeah, that sounds good."

"Great, see you at 7 am!"

"I— Wait what?"

Regardless of her communication quirks you start dating Yooyeon and things progress quickly. A few months later she asks you an odd question.

"We've made a lot of love since our first week right?"

"Yes, during that week and after." You've gotten used to Yooyeon's phrasing, but you wonder where she's going with this.

"So how do you feel about us? Should we continue being together? Have we made enough love?"

"Yes." You quickly pick up on her choice of words. "Do you want me to say I love you?"

"Yes."

"I love you Yooyeon." She kisses you, and then proceeds to drop a bombshell on you.

"Good, I love you too. I quit the space force."

"What! Why?"

"They would never send us to space together, they know we're a couple now."

"Yeah but still, I thought you wanted to be in space!"

"I saw Earth from space, that was a lifelong dream of mine."

"I know, so why did you quit? I could have stepped back instead."

"No, that still keeps us apart. I don't need to go to space anymore, because I found someone on Earth I'd rather spend the rest of my life with." She produces a ring, a simple band with a bluish-green gem on top. "I won't get on my knees because I'm already shorter than you, but—" She fumbles the ring, as if trying to figure out which is the right orientation to present the ring before giving up.

"Will you stay on Earth with me?"

A/N: Bit of a random one, there was some discussion of sex in space I saw, and I wondered if it would work, then I wondered who would work in that context, and came up with smart and pretty Yooyeon lol. Also fits with the whole tripleS thing in my mind, I tried to work in a cosmos thing but eh, didn't try very hard lol. I tried to capture some of her...aloofness? Some of the stuff she says makes you do a double take or can be a little goofy so yeah. Thanks for reading!

[soulwrencher]

Hi!!!! I don’t know if you take request.. but I can’t stop thinking about vi coming home from the gym, or reader going to meet vi at her gym? But her sweaty abs? Those back muscles? Those arms? 😩 and vi just being so smug about it because she knows the effect she has on reader 😭

yesss i like this! note: i don't really workout at the gym (embarrassing i know...), so if this is super unrealistic just... gawk over her body! be horny!

also you should totally read this by my fav writer ever if you haven't already, you'll be OBSESSED. kisses n hugs @vampiefemme 😘

1, 2, 3, 4,... were you counting your own reps or vi's? your mouth was practically on the floor, eyes ogling at her back from afar. there's quite the distance between you and where she is working out at, but that doesn't stop you from dislocating your neck to watch her do pull-downs.

there is just something about the way she's built, tattoo climbing down her neck as well as the usually headache inducing overhead lights making the sweat on her traps shine, and her big, to drool over, triceps. and fuck were they moving with every pull too, actively flexing underneath her drenched tank top. absolutely soaked, (you or her?) vi takes her tank top off, you almost slam the weights. feeling the blood rush through your body from the embarrassment of just almost pissing people off (and the fact that you've been staring for full 5 minutes), your mind carries you away, to your bed, underneath vi, who's doing pushups over you and then smiles at you, how dreamy.

and then she smiles at you. wait, what? a small but very potent 'fuck' escapes your mouth. she's done with her sets and quickly redirects her focus to cleaning the machine.

vi is grinning like an idiot, it's hard to stay oblivious when she literally felt something (your pretty eyes) burning into her back. and besides, it was super hot watching you too. she overthrew her whole workout routine just because of 8 little words:

'heyyy i heard you go to the gym?☺️'

it took her an hour to reply, Yeahhh I do, erase, We should go together, erase, I think you're really cute, erase, I'm going this Friday you wanna join me cutie? send. vi wasn't stupid, it takes two to play a game. and you were going to lose.

"you looked distracted," vi chuckles, sweat dripping down her forehead.

slam. "oh god, that startled me, haha." you look around, 'i'm sorry' plastering your whole face. you feel the heat rush up into your head and accumulating there. what the hell.

"is it fun watching me?" she continues. she's facing you, arm stretched out and resting on the leather of your seat. you're fucked.

"i was just trying to see when you're done—" you pause to look at her, but vi's eyes are elsewhere, further down, was she checking you out?

"—not sure if i'm doing this right," you say as your eyes wander to her stretched out arm, suddenly you feel warmth spreading from in between your thighs...

she hums in response, scoff-laugh following. vi gathered that you weren't going to lose easily.

"can i?" she asks and you nod, hot palms adjusting your foot placement on the board. you like how her hands feel, they were rough and calloused but still so, so warm.

you press against the board, small grunts and groans escaping your lips. fuck, you sound a little too good, vi totally did not just imagine all possible (well, rather a small selection) of scenarios where you'd make exactly those noises.

she tries to distract herself from her thoughts where you are moaning her name, so she strokes your left hamstring to make sure you're... to make sure what exactly? you immediately look up, but the way vi is looking at you... you can't help but get lost in her eyes, you wanted her to get lost in you. and she couldn't ignore the throbbing that was practically begging to be taken care of from just looking at you and touching your skin.

one thing leads to another and her fingers are filling you up and pumping into you as slick gushes out from the sides of her fingers. iiiiin the bathroom of the women's locker room. gross, absolutely, but you're too busy trying to swallow your moans.

"not sure if i'm doing this right." vi whispers into your ear. you roll your eyes, she's obviously mocking your awful attempt at covering up the fact that you were staring.

"'doing, mhmmmh, just fine," you slur.

fuck, you were driving vi insane. she throws her head back, hard nipples graze against the fabric of your workout top as she thrusts her body against yours, pressing your back against the stall wall. and she's still inside you, vi is still curling her fingers against the walls of your gaping cunt. you dig your nails into vi's back, "more," you whisper.

"fuck, i—" vi slowly slides out her fingers, you successfully flustered her, she's completely worked up, cute. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she brushes a lose strand behind your ear, it feels like you're dripping onto the gym floor. kinda gross, but whatever, because vi's hand is right there where you want it, cupping your face.

"let me take you to my place," she then says, voice low. she watches a small smile appear on your face. "sure, show me your home workouts," you wink, causing vi to turn the same color as her hair.

got you.

[enchanted-by-fae]

One Day - Azriel x Reader

Part 1

Paring: Azriel x Hewn City! Reader

Summary: You knew that you’d be forced into an arranged marriage one day, you just didn’t expect it to be now… or to the Shadowsinger

Warnings: Arranged marriage, angst?, idk me trying to set up the plot, don’t worry there will be one (and fluff and romance)

1.5k words (I meant to make it longer, oops)

A/N: This is my first fic so I don’t really have any clue as to what I’m doing. The title is from the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack because I think it just sounds really pretty and romantic.

Part 2 Part 3

“You wanted to see me father?” you asked, walking into your fathers office. You never liked coming into this part of your family's apartments. It always felt so damp and cold, you could practically taste the mildew embedded inside the walls.

Your family was by no means poor, at least by Hewn City standards. Your father was currently the right hand to Keir. You had a long family tree which went back to the first high lord of the Night Court. This made you a distant relative of your current High Lord, Rhysand, though you never called him by his name. You didn’t know much about him despite the distant relation. All you knew was that he seemed awfully cunning, but in a way that made you distrustful. Whenever he, along with his Inner Circle, showed up you always made sure to obey perfectly when in his presence and to make yourself sparse otherwise.

You had been summoned to your fathers office on what seemed to be rather “urgent matters”. You usually were never asked to meet with him, and this sudden request frightened you.

“Yes, my daughter,” your father said, gesturing for you to take a seat facing the desk where he was already seated. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you,” you moved to take the seat closest, sitting gracefully. You sat there waiting for your father to continue.

“Right,” he began with a curt nod, “it would seem the High Lord has come to me with a proposition” disdain filling his voice. Nobody dared speak a negative word of the mysterious High Lord in fear of it coming back to him, but they made their feelings known in other ways. For your father, he liked to show his dislike with the inflection of his voice.

“And I’m involved in this proposition?” your voice came out meekly. You knew the question was stupid. Of course you’re involved with this somehow, why else would your father call you here. Disgust filling his voice, “yes, it would seem that the High Lord would like to arrange a marriage.” you shot up out of the seat with a surprised expression that bordered anger. “What of his mate?” you argued.

“You wouldn’t be marrying the High Lord, Y/N” your father never addressed you by name. It was always “daughter” or “child”. The fact that he used your actual name now unsettled you.

“Who would I be marrying then?” you asked as worry flooded your senses. The only reasonable matches the High Lord would set you up with would be a male from his Inner Circle, it would be foolish otherwise.

As far as you knew, he only had two males in his little group. They were Cassian, his general and “lovingly” referred to as the Lord of Bloodshed, and Azriel. Not much was known of Azriel, he didn’t speak much during visits. All you knew of him was his station in the High Lords Inner Circle, his spymaster and the Shadowsinger.

Frankly, the male terrified you. Whenever the High Lord brought him along on his few and far between trips to the Hewn City, he would just stand in the farthest corner, watching. It always left you with a disturbed feeling. The Shadowsinger was a known weapon. The former High Lord had used his talents for torturing during the war 500 years ago. That fact alone was enough to send you running.

The other one, Cassian, was deadly too. He was a natural killing machine, or so you’ve heard from Keirs Darkbringers. You knew it wasn’t likely for a marriage, however, between yourself and the Lord of Bloodshed. The last you had heard, he was already mated. This left you with the lethal spymaster. You return to your seat as you feel your heart begin to plummet quickly to your stomach as you await your fathers answer.

“Based on the look on your face,” you tend to show every thought in your head on your face, “you already know the answer,” your father said, not really answering the question.

“Just tell me, please.” softly pleading with your father to confirm your fate.

“It’s the Shadowsinger,” he sighed. Even though you knew that would be his answer already, you can’t help but deflate at the confirmation of it.

“So, that’s it then? I’m being shipped off to marry the Shadowsinger?’ You were typically soft-spoken, as most females in the Hewn City are taught to be, but the idea of marrying someone you were also taught to fear wasn’t something you could treat softly.

Your father let out another sigh, this one filled with exasperation, “it’s not that simple, my daughter.”

“Then simplify it for me,” you need a reason. If you were to marry the, potentially, most dangerous male in Prythian then you’d need answers. Now. “I’m not a child anymore, father,” you remind him.

“It would seem the High Lord is looking to unify his two courts,” your father begins to explain. You nod as he continues, “he asked for the spymaster to wed you, specifically. I am the highest ranking official in this court, next to Keir and I happen to have a daughter eligible for marriage,” he gives a slight nod towards you.

“The High Lord has also promised me that you will be taken care of by him,” his expression turns serious “no harm is to come to you.”

A frown takes over your face as you learn of the High Lord's reasoning. Luckily relief floods as well, knowing you have your safety has been promised. You begin to just nod your head, processing it all.

Finally, you take a deep breath, exhale, and give your response, “okay.”

“Okay?” your father askes, surprised at how accepting you sound.

“Okay,” I defeatedly nod, “he’s the high lord, I should follow his command,” I reason. You could learn to live with the Shadowsinger you supposed. How bad could he honestly be?

“I’ll inform the High Lord of your decision,” your father begins to finish the conversation, “thank you for doing this, my child. Your people thank you.”

You give him a sad smile before removing yourself from your seat and make towards his door to leave.

As you enter the hallway, alone at last, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts. The thought that you will be helping to bring these two feuding courts together at last. A slight smile blooms on your lips with the hope of being remembered as an immortal legend to your people.

—

“Are you being fucking serious Rhys?” Azriel fumes to his brother.

“Az,” Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tightly, “please. You’ll be helping with bringing peace between my two courts.”

Azriel shakes his head in disbelief. When Rhysand told him that he found a bride for him he thought it was a joke. He was the Night Courts spymaster and he couldn’t figure out his own brother was planning to get him engaged.

“Can’t you find peace without a marriage?” Az exclaims. It’s not often he finds himself yelling at Rhys.

Rhysand lets out a deep sigh that he’s been holding in for far too long, “we’ve tried Az. Maybe this way the courts can find a common ground.” Azriel can’t help but scoff at this entire situation, which sends Rhys into a fit. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Alright? I’m well aware. But I’m at my wits end here already Az and you throwing a tantrum isn’t helping,” Rhysand grows dark. “You’re marrying her next week, end of fucking conversation,” he adds.

Azriel rolls his eyes “this is unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Would you like to repeat that for the rest of the class Az?” Rhys eggs him.

“I said that this is fucking unbelievable,” Az snapped, “You and Cassian are allowed your mates but I’m not allowed to find mine?”

Rhysand begins to soften, feeling bad at the mention of his brothers lack of mate. He didn’t want to do this to Az but he wouldn’t be asking if there was no other option. “I want you to find your mate Az, I do,” this is when an idea sparks in Rhys’ mind.

Az catches the new look on Rhysands face. He’s seen it many times over their long friendship, it the look he gets when he has another bargain up his sleeve. “What is it now?” Azriel grits.

Rhysand just gives his usual devilish smile, “I’ll let you out of your marriage, if you meet your mate,” he bargains.

Azriel looks at him with widened eyes, “really? I just get to leave if I meet my mate?”

The High Lord nods, “yes. I still expect you to marry Y/N but, let's say you meet your mate later on, I give you permission to be with them. You just can’t be cruel about it to your wife,” Rhys explains his conditions.

Azriel feels relief wash over him at the bargain. He understands that it’s entirely possible he’ll never meet his mate but “if”.

He agrees that it’s a fair deal and reaches out his hand for Rhys to shake, “it’s a bargain.” Rhysand takes his brother's hand and as the deal is sealed they both feel the new tattoos inked upon their bodies. Azriel wonders where and what his new tattoo is, but that's something to be answered later.

“You’re still getting married next week,” Rhysand reminds.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Azriel rolls his eyes but says the words with a playful manner. For the first time since hearing of his arranged marriage, he feels hope. Hope that his mate is out there and still waiting for him.

—

A/N part 2: if you made it this far I really hope you enjoyed the story! I’m hopefully going to be starting the next part soon! Thank you so so much for reading

[kwilquib]

On the Cliff,

Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader Word Count: 10k+ Switching POV

a/n: Plot. Also some reference to Pojangmacha fic

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the dimly lit hospital room. The antiseptic scent clung to the air, thick and suffocating. You stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Your father looked smaller than you ever remembered—sunken cheeks, pale skin stretched thin over brittle bones. The man who had once loomed over you, larger than life, now lay powerless, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a rasping whisper, barely audible over the machines.

"It was that woman."

Your body tensed.

Your father exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against the stark white sheets. "She played me. Played all of us. Your mother… she never recovered." His gaze shifted to you, eyes dark with something too raw to name. "I loved your mother, but I— I was weak. And that woman knew it."

You didn’t move, but inside, something twisted. You had known the story—or at least, you thought you had. You had pieced it together through hushed conversations, through your mother’s silent suffering, through the slow, agonizing decline of your family’s name. But hearing it now, spoken in the last breaths of a dying man, made it feel like a noose tightening around your ribs.

"She came to me looking like salvation," your father continued, his voice thick with regret. "She was young, beautiful. The perfect bait. And I— I was a fool. I let her in. I let her take everything." His lips curled in disgust, whether at the woman or himself, you couldn’t tell. "She made me believe she cared. I was blinded by it, convinced she was loyal to me. But she had her own ambitions, her own alliances. She turned on me the moment I was no longer useful, leaked my weaknesses to the board, let our enemies carve us apart piece by piece." A bitter chuckle rattled in his throat. "And your mother… she couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear me."

The weight of those words landed like a hammer. You had spent your whole life hating that woman. And now, your father’s words only cemented that hatred.

"She destroyed our family," your father choked out, eyes burning with a desperation you had never seen before. "She pretended to be innocent. Sweet. But underneath it—she was poison. Never trust a woman like that." The beeping of the monitor slowed. Your father’s breaths grew shallower.

"Promise me." His trembling fingers gripped your wrist with surprising strength. "Promise me you’ll never let a woman like that fool you. Never fall for their lies." You stared down at him, your jaw tight, your chest burning. You swallowed hard and nodded.

"I promise."

Your father exhaled, a final, ragged breath. Then—silence.

The silence lingered, stretching far beyond the confines of that hospital room. It clung to you, heavy and suffocating, even as the memory began to fade.

"Promise me."

Your father’s words echoed in your skull, the weight of them pressing against your ribs like a vice. You had spent years honoring that promise—guarding yourself, sharpening your instincts, never allowing another woman to wield the same power over you.

Never letting yourself fall.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the stillness.

"Sir?"

You blinked, the hospital walls dissolving into the dark wood paneling of your office. The sterile scent of antiseptic was gone, replaced by the faint traces of whiskey and leather. Your hands, once clenched into fists, relaxed over the mahogany desk. The past bled away, leaving only the present.

Junho stood at the doorway, sharp-eyed and expectant, his fingers resting against the stack of files he carried. He hesitated, his usual confidence tempered by caution. "You didn’t hear me the first time." It wasn’t a question.

You exhaled, pushing a hand through your hair. "What is it?"

Junho stepped forward, placing the documents on your desk. “The arrangements for the wedding are proceeding as planned. But are you really going to marry her?” His gaze flickered, unreadable. “You haven’t met her since the dinner.”

Your fingers tapped against the desk, slow and deliberate. The dinner.

The memory surfaced instantly—the soft clink of silverware, the hushed murmur of conversation, the weight of expectation pressing against your spine. Jiwon sat across from you, wide-eyed, uncertain. But it wasn’t her you had been focused on.

No. It was her.

Jiwon’s stepmother.

The woman who destroyed your mother.

Who led your father to ruin.

Who nearly dragged your entire legacy to the ground.

And now, she sat at the same table, smiling as if none of it had happened, as if the past wasn’t soaked in betrayal and blood.

Your grip on the armrest tightened. The realization was slow, creeping like rot beneath the surface. This was too much of a coincidence. Too perfect.

Jiwon, the innocent, the naive. The girl who had walked into your life like fate itself, who had clung to you in desperation, who had let you take her apart in the dark. A woman like her stepmother wouldn’t leave things to chance.

The scandal.

The convenient fallout.

The marriage proposal wrapped in necessity.

You had walked straight into their hands.

Your stomach twisted, rage curling deep in your chest. Was she always a part of this?

Had every look, every stammer, every trembling touch been nothing but a carefully placed act? A perfect imitation of innocence—just like the woman who came before her?

Your pulse pounded in your ears. I won’t be played again.

This marriage—this whole situation—it was nothing more than a beautifully orchestrated trap. And Jiwon…

Jiwon had led you right into it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The past few weeks had been nothing short of surreal.

Jiwon sat still, her hands resting lightly on her lap, fingers twisting the edge of her lace gloves as strangers filtered in and out of the room, offering polite smiles and murmured congratulations. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers, the soft hum of conversation filling the space, but none of it felt real.

It was almost laughable—how quickly everything had changed.

For years, she had been invisible. A ghost in her own home. Her father barely spared her a glance, and when he did, it was with disappointment or indifference. Her stepmother had dismissed her presence altogether, treating her with a cool detachment that bordered on contempt. Jiwon had long since learned to exist quietly, to take up as little space as possible.

But now…

Now, her father greeted her with warm smiles, his voice laced with an unfamiliar fondness whenever he spoke her name. Her stepmother—who had never once held her, never once stroked her hair—now caressed her cheek, whispering about how beautiful she looked, how proud she was.

Everyone who had once ignored her suddenly saw her. Acknowledged her.

It should have felt like a dream. Instead, it felt like a carefully crafted illusion, one she had no control over.

And the man who had promised to stand by her—the man who swore she wouldn’t be alone—

He wasn’t here.

Not once had he checked on her. Not once had he appeared in the past weeks, leaving her alone to navigate this overwhelming shift in her world.

Jiwon swallowed, staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror across the room. The woman who gazed back at her was unfamiliar—dressed in layers of silk and lace, adorned with delicate jewelry that sparkled under the light. Elegant. Poised.

But beneath it all, she felt like a girl lost in the wrong story.

A flurry of voices interrupted her thoughts. More guests approached, smiling, offering their congratulations. Cameras flashed, capturing a moment she wasn’t sure belonged to her.

In just a few minutes, she would walk down the aisle.

And the man waiting for her at the end of it…

He felt further away than ever.

"Hey, Jiwon. You okay? You look… unsure."

Jiwon blinked, snapping out of her thoughts as her friend studied Jiwon with quiet concern.

She forced a smile, pushing aside the unease coiling in her stomach. "I'm fine. I'm just happy you could make it."

"You think I'd miss this?" He scoffed lightly, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Besides, you never really made new friends after coming back from abroad. Someone had to show up for you."

She huffed a small laugh, the familiarity of his presence briefly easing her nerves. "I appreciate it."

"And I still owe you that drink," he added with a smirk, though his gaze softened.

Jiwon hesitated before carefully broaching the subject. "Yunjae…” Jiwon started with his name.

“How’s… everything been? Since that night?"

Yunjae’s expression flickered—just a brief moment of reflection before he gave a small, almost sheepish chuckle. "Well, as you’ve probably heard, a lot changed. Minnie and I… we’re in a much better place now. That night—talking to you—helped me see things clearer. We just needed to actually listen to each other."

Jiwon’s lips parted in surprise before a genuine smile found its way onto her face. "I’m really glad."

"Yeah, me too," he admitted. Then, after a pause, he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know this might sound funny coming from me, considering how things started, but… congratulations, Jiwon. I really hope you’ll be happy."

Something tightened in her throat. She wished she could say the same for herself with certainty.

"Thank you, Yunjae."

He gave her a small, knowing smile. "I should head inside. Minnie’s probably already waiting for me."

With a final nod, he turned and walked away, leaving Jiwon alone with the weight of everything unsaid.

Just as the silence settled, the doors swung open with a sharp thud. The sound jolted Jiwon, her heart lurching, but the sheer weight of her dress kept her rooted in place.

Her father entered first, shoulders squared, a proud smile curling his lips—too wide, too polished. The kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes. Her stepmother followed closely behind, her movements smooth, calculated, as she shut the doors behind them with a soft click. That same alluring smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the cold calculation gleaming in her eyes.

Jiwon’s fingers curled into the fabric of her gown. She had expected them, of course. But something about the way they carried themselves—like victors surveying their conquered prize—made the room feel smaller, suffocating.

Her father was the first to speak. "You look beautiful, Jiwon," he mused, his voice warm, almost doting. A mockery of affection. "It’s a proud day for our family."

Jiwon swallowed hard. "I—"

"You're securing our future, after all," her stepmother interjected smoothly, stepping closer. "A true daughter of the Park family."

Something in her tone sent a shiver down Jiwon’s spine. There was a weight behind those words, a meaning she had yet to grasp—but she could feel the edges of it pressing in on her.

Her father hummed in agreement. "And, of course, this marriage is just the beginning. The real victory comes next."

Jiwon’s hands tightened in her lap. "Next?"

Her stepmother tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "Come now, Jiwon. You must understand by now." She let out a soft laugh, as if they were discussing something amusing rather than something terrifying. "A wife’s duty is to bear an heir."

The words dropped like a stone in Jiwon’s stomach.

Her father’s smile didn’t waver. "With a child, we’ll have an unshakable claim over the family. You, Jiwon, will be the mother of the next generation. And once that happens…" He trailed off, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his wrist.

Her stepmother finished for him, voice like silk. "Once that happens, your husband’s presence in the family will no longer be… necessary."

Jiwon’s breath caught in her throat.

She knew they had their ambitions—had known all her life that her father was ruthless, that her stepmother was cunning. But this—this was something else entirely.

Her father chuckled at her silence. "Don’t look so pale. It’s not as though anything will happen to him—so long as he remains useful."

Jiwon shook her head, her voice trembling. "I won’t—"

Her stepmother tsked, stepping forward until she loomed over Jiwon, her manicured nails ghosting over the fabric of Jiwon’s sleeve. "Jiwon, darling," she murmured, "you’re not rejecting your own father’s wishes, are you? After all he’s done for you?"

Jiwon pressed her lips together, her pulse hammering in her ears.

The older woman sighed, feigning disappointment, before her expression softened into something almost gentle. "Perhaps… you need a little more motivation?"

Jiwon stiffened as her stepmother leaned down, her lips close to Jiwon’s ear.

"Your mother," she whispered. "Did you know? She’s still alive. Hospitalized. Somewhere… far away."

Jiwon’s breath hitched.

Her stepmother smiled, slow and satisfied. "Your father is the only one who knows where. He’s been taking very good care of her all these years."

Jiwon’s stomach twisted violently.

"Would be a shame," her stepmother mused, straightening, "if something were to happen to her, too."

The words weren’t loud, nor were they laced with open malice. But the meaning was as clear as day.

Jiwon’s hands trembled in her lap.

This wasn’t a request. This wasn’t something she could refuse.

Her father exhaled, pleased. "You understand now, don’t you, Jiwon?"

She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat, eyes burning, as she slowly—reluctantly—nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The corridors of the estate were quiet, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and polished wood. You barely registered it, your mind occupied with the conversation you had just left behind.

"At least check on her," your grandmother had insisted, her voice laced with exasperation. "She's about to be your wife, whether you like it or not."

You had intended to avoid her—intended to keep your distance until you figured out what exactly you had walked into the night of the dinner. But even you could admit that perhaps you had been too hasty, too quick to assume the worst.

Jiwon wasn’t like her stepmother. Not at first glance, not in the way she carried herself, not in the way she had looked at you that night with startled, hesitant eyes. And yet—

You inhaled sharply, shaking the thought away as you neared the room. The door was slightly ajar, the soft murmur of voices filtering through the gap. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But the moment you caught Jiwon’s father voice, low and brimming with satisfaction, you stilled.

"With a child, we’ll have an unshakable claim over the family."

A chill curled down your spine.

"Once that happens, your husband’s presence in the family will no longer be… necessary."

Your breath stilled.

"It’s not as though anything will happen to him—so long as he remains useful."

Something inside you snapped taut, the words sinking their claws deep into your chest.

You stepped back before you could stop yourself, your pulse pounding in your ears. The voices continued, but you heard no more.

Your presence was temporary. You were a stepping stone. A means to an end.

And Jiwon—

A sharp, bitter laugh nearly escaped you.

Jiwon was part of it, after all.

That innocence, that wide-eyed hesitation—it had all been an act. A carefully constructed lie, just like her stepmother before her. And like a fool, you had almost believed otherwise.

Your jaw clenched as you turned away, footsteps measured, calculated, as you left.

You had been right all along.

Jiwon had trapped you. And now?

Now, she would have to live with the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiwon remained in her seat long after the door had closed, the silence pressing in around her like a tightening noose. Her fingers curled around the hem of her dress, knuckles turning white. She had agreed.

She had agreed.

The words rang in her head, hollow and inescapable. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen it coming—the moment her father’s voice had turned cold, she had known there would be no escape. But knowing and feeling were two different things. And now, sitting alone in this unfamiliar room, the weight of her decision finally began to settle in her bones.

Her mother.

Jiwon’s throat tightened. The moment she had seen the frail woman’s trembling hands, the way her thin fingers clutched at her sleeves, she had known. Her mother had always been her weakness. Not because she was weak, but because she had once been Jiwon’s entire world. Before the stepmother, before the decline.

Before everything fell apart.

Even when their father had been cruel, even when he threw words like stones, they had each other. She could still remember the nights spent huddled together, her mother brushing her hair and whispering stories about a future where they would be free. A future that never came.

The timing had never been lost on Jiwon. Her mother’s health had started declining not long after the woman who now called herself her stepmother arrived. At first, it had been subtle—exhaustion, small lapses in memory, a persistent cough. But as the months passed, she had withered, shrinking into a shadow of the woman Jiwon once knew. By then, her father had already turned his affections elsewhere. And Jiwon, too young and too powerless, had been forced to watch as the person she loved most in the world was quietly erased.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She barely had time to compose herself before it swung open.

He stepped inside, his presence filling the room like an approaching storm. It was the first time she had seen him since the dinner, and if she had harbored any hopes of warmth, they died the moment his eyes met hers.

Cold. Distant. Unreadable.

Her fingers clenched tighter around the fabric of her dress.

The man who had decided her fate stood before her, and yet, she still couldn’t tell if he saw her as anything more than a piece in a game she didn’t understand.

He studied her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a blade poised to strike. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Our arrangement,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with something unreadable, “will be simple.”

Jiwon remained silent, waiting.

“I won’t interfere with your life, and you won’t interfere with mine. We will play the roles required of us, but beyond that, you are nothing to me.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver through her. It wasn’t a declaration; it was a challenge. As if he expected her to protest, to resist. But she didn’t.

His gaze flickered, as though he had anticipated something more from her. He took a step closer, and she forced herself not to recoil.

“You should know,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “I could have backed out at any moment.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched.

“I still could,” he added, his tone calculated, measured. “But I won’t. If your father thinks he can push me into a corner, he’s mistaken.”

The implication was clear. He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to recognize her father’s ambitions. And yet, he had chosen to go through with it anyway.

Before she could think of how to respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, placing it on the table between them.

“Take one every day,” he instructed. “If you miss a dose, I’ll know.”

Jiwon stared at the container, her stomach twisting. Birth control.

He was ensuring that no matter what, there would be no child between them.

“If you want to stay married to me,” he said, voice quiet but firm, “you’ll take these until the day you die.”

Jiwon swallowed. There was no room for refusal. And so, as always, she didn’t disagree.

The wedding hall was vast, lined with golden chandeliers and pristine white florals, a vision of perfection that felt strangely distant to Jiwon. The sea of guests blurred together, a collection of unfamiliar faces, their expressions unreadable. This was not a day of love or joy—it was a spectacle, a performance they were expected to play their parts in.

She walked down the aisle, each step measured, her fingers clutching the bouquet like a lifeline. Her dress trailed behind her, heavy with fabric and expectation. At the end of the aisle, he stood waiting.

The man she was to marry.

His expression was unreadable, his stance composed and indifferent. He did not offer his hand, did not look at her with warmth. There was no illusion between them, no false pretense of affection. Only an arrangement, a binding contract disguised as vows.

Their words were hollow, exchanged with a detachment that felt suffocating. Promises of forever that neither of them believed. When it came time for the kiss, she braced herself.

And then he kissed her.

It was not soft. Not hesitant. His lips pressed against hers with a force that stole the air from her lungs. There was nothing tender in the way he claimed her, nothing gentle. It was hunger—raw and unapologetic, a quiet declaration of possession rather than devotion.

When he pulled away, she barely had time to catch her breath before the ceremony continued. Applause rang in the air, meaningless and distant. The rest of the night was a blur of faces, empty smiles, and whispered congratulations that felt like a cruel joke. Jiwon drifted through it all, numb, her mind unable to process the weight of what had just happened.

By the time they arrived at their new home, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. The large estate loomed before her, unfamiliar and unwelcoming. He entered first, not sparing her a glance, not offering a single word.

Jiwon followed, struggling under the weight of her luggage. He didn’t moved to help her, didn’t acknowledged her struggle. And as she stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase, she realized—this was how it would be.

Alone.

She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her, sealing her fate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sit at the edge of the master bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room. The exhaustion of the day settles deep in your bones, but the weight pressing on your chest has nothing to do with fatigue. The remnants of the wedding still cling to you—the scent of roses, the suffocating formality, the hollow vows exchanged before strangers.

Dressed in a fresh bathrobe, your damp hair cools your skin as you skim through your tablet, searching for a moment of solitude. The bed behind you remains untouched, pristine except for the rose petals carefully arranged in the shape of a heart—an unspoken expectation you refuse to acknowledge.

Then, a knock at the door.

You don’t react at first, your eyes still fixed on the screen. Silence stretches between the knocks and the inevitable click of the door unlocking. You already know who it is.

Jiwon steps inside, wrapped in a bathrobe identical to yours. The delicate scent of soap and damp skin trails after her. She hesitates, closing the door behind her with quiet deliberation, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. Uncertain. Guarded.

You lift your gaze, watching her.

The sight of her stirs something sharp in your chest. Hatred, you tell yourself. Resentment. She’s an intruder in your life, a pawn willingly placed by her father, another person trying to get too close. And yet, beneath it, there is something darker. Something possessive.

Your grip on the tablet tightens for a second before you set it aside.

“You’re here,” you say, your voice unreadable.

You knew she would come. Expected it. She had no choice but to. And yet, the fact that she approached you first—however hesitant—baffles you. It almost amuses you, the way she’s trying to be brave.

She must really be that obedient to follow her father’s scheme.

Your gaze lingers on her, unreadable. Then, with quiet authority, you break the silence.

“Why are you just standing there?” Your voice is steady, edged with something unspoken. “Come here.”

She flinches—barely—but obeys, her steps hesitant yet quick, as if afraid of hesitating too long.

Now she stands before you, close enough that you can see the way her fingers clench at her sleeves, the way her breath is measured, controlled. You remain seated on the bed, watching her.

Studying her.

Her face is calm, carefully composed, but it does little to hide the truth. She’s visibly nervous—fidgeting, hesitant—looking so vulnerable, so innocent. Almost convincing.

But you know better.

You know her goal, the schemes she’s woven with her father—the quiet ambition hidden beneath her downcast eyes. To bear your child. To secure her place.

Still, as she stands before you, fragile in the dim light, you find yourself wondering… which one is real?

You stand up, walking past her toward the bedside drawer.

Her eyes follow your every movement.

“Did you take what I gave you earlier?” Your voice is calm, measured, as you retrieve an identical container to the one you had given her before.

Behind you, her voice wavers. “I—I did.”

Hesitation. A crack in her certainty. You don’t trust her.

“Did you really?”

You turn to face her, closing the distance between you. She tilts her head back slightly, forced to meet your gaze.

“Ye—”

Before she can finish, you grip her cheeks, prying her mouth open as you shove the birth control pill inside, pressing it down with your fingers.

Her eyes widen in shock, a muffled protest escaping as her tongue instinctively fights against the intrusion. But she swallows—she has no choice.

Your fingers linger, pressing down on her tongue, feeling the warmth, the slick resistance. When you pull away, you grip her tongue briefly, tilting her chin up as you inspect her mouth. No tricks. No lies.

A thin strand of saliva clings to your fingers as you finally release her.

She coughs slightly, breath unsteady, staring at you in disbelief. “What was that?”

You sit back on the bed, meeting her gaze as you bring your fingers to your lips, sucking them clean with deliberate ease.

“Extra precaution.”

She stood still, accepting your answer without question.

"Strip."

The command hung in the air, firm and unquestionable. She flinched, surprise flashing across her face, but she obeyed.

With hesitant fingers, she loosened the knot at her waist. The bathrobe slipped from her shoulders, gliding down her smooth skin before pooling soundlessly at her feet.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, her hair falling forward in a vain attempt to shield her shyness. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, hiding the soft curves of her bare peaks.

The ambient glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm sheen over her stomach, the smooth expanse of skin taut with restrained tension. Her legs pressed together, her posture curling inward as her hand covered the last remnant of her modesty.

"Good girl."

Your praise was quiet, yet heavy with meaning.

Reaching out, you grasped her wrist, pulling her closer. She resisted—barely—but you easily moved her hand aside. Your other hand traced along her thigh, parting them ever so slightly, revealing her core, wet by her own liquid.

A smirk tugged at your lips.

"What a good wife you are," you murmur, your voice laced with a disturbing amusement. "Already so ready to please me."

Her response catches in her throat—"I—I…"—the words failing her as if the weight of expectation leaves her speechless.

Your hand slides along the curve of her folds, teasing and tracing the delicate creases of her skin. With each measured stroke, your finger becomes slick with her natural arousal. A muffled moan escapes her as her free hand flies to cover her mouth.

Gently, yet inexorably, you press your finger deeper—soaked in her arousal—until it enters her fully. A small gasp betrays her internal struggle as she adjusts to your unyielding pace.

You begin slowly, gradually increasing your movements. Her soft moans rise in hesitant tempo, each one matching the growing rhythm of your advances. Then, you introduce another finger. Her head tilts back involuntarily as you refuse to give her a moment’s reprieve.

"Ahh— no, wait..." she pleads, her voice laced with desperate uncertainty. Yet you do not relent. Instead, you curl your fingers in a deliberate arc, eliciting a sharper shriek from her. With practiced precision, you place your hand over her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.

"I… can't... Nnnnggfff..." she struggles against the tide, her words a broken plea amid the mounting intensity. Her hands grip your arm, desperate to slow you down, as her back arches from the force of your intrusion. Her legs tremble, slowly giving out as her body leans on you for support.

"Ah— nnghh..." she murmurs, the sound a conflicted blend of surrender and resistance. Her hand reaches for your shoulder, seeking any anchor to stave off the overwhelming surge. Her body spasms; the tension in her inner walls tightens around your finger, and a rush of her arousal escapes in a final, quivering release.

Abruptly, you withdraw, moving swiftly to grasp her waist as her legs buckle beneath her. You catch her, steadying her as she struggles to remain upright. Her eyes lift to meet yours—wide, searching, and filled with the heavy cadence of labored breaths as she fights to reclaim control.

You watch her, admiring the way her eyes close in ecstasy, and a sudden realization washes over you.

"Haven't I been spoiling you?" you murmur, recalling every stolen moment—in the hotel, in the car—where you’ve consistently taken the lead, always giving pleasure without receiving the same in return.

"I always take the lead. You’ve yet to return the favor," you add, your tone both teasing and expectant.

Jiwon’s expression betrays a mix of understanding and uncertainty. Unsure of how to respond, she remains silent. You close the distance between you, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet and clash in a fervent dance, exchanging heated promises with every breath.

Abruptly, you break the kiss, gently pushing her chin aside to examine her flushed, expectant face. "Kneel," you command.

Without hesitation, she sinks slowly between your knees. Her head lifts to meet yours as you cradle her chin, holding her in place. Her hand wanders to your lap, her eyes shimmering with anticipation as if silently asking what will come next. You trace a slow, deliberate path along her lips with your thumb, savoring the soft warmth as they part slightly.

Leaning in once more, you capture her lips with another searing kiss. You deepen the kiss, then abruptly pull back—a teasing farewell that leaves her yearning for more.

"Well… it’s about time you did something," you say, guiding her hand toward the concealed promise beneath your robe. Her gaze shifts from your eyes to the unmistakable bulge, and with trembling fingers she slips aside the fabric, revealing your erection in all its evidence.

For a long moment, she stares at it, as if trying to reconcile the raw desire before her with the uncertain spark in her own eyes. Gently, you take her hand, guiding it to the sensitive flesh. Her skin is warm under your touch, and as she hesitantly grasps you, you can almost feel the electric pulse of her uncertainty mingling with burgeoning confidence. With measured strokes, you lead her hand along the length of you, the sensations building slowly into an undeniable rhythm.

"That's it... good girl," you murmur, your voice a deep, approving rumble as you watch her confidence grow with every careful stroke. You cup her cheeks, tilting her head upward so that your eyes lock in a wordless conversation of need and surrender. Her hands come to rest momentarily, leaving her lips glistening with anticipation. You trace your fingers along her parted lips, sliding them open with deliberate slowness, savoring the taste of her warm, inviting mouth.

Meeting her gaze again, you softly command, "Jiwon... I want to feel them."

Her hesitant whisper, "Y-you want me to...?" trembles in the charged air, and with a barely perceptible nod of your head, she understands. Inch by inch, she moves closer, positioning herself more deliberately between your legs. You sense the gentle quiver of her skin as she aligns herself, every inch of her body alive with a mix of trepidation and desire.

"I don't know how..." her voice quavers, uncertainty mingling with desire as she prepares herself.

"Kiss it," you instruct, your tone both commanding and gentle.

She leans in, and you feel the delicate warmth of her breath caress the sensitive tip. Her lips make contact—a tentative, feather-light tap that soon deepens as they press against you. You close your eyes for a moment, the sensation of her soft, pliant lips against your skin sending a surge of pleasure rippling through you. Her tongue, at your urging, begins a slow, deliberate exploration, its texture smooth and almost liquid as it swirls around you like a whispered promise.

Without pausing, she takes you deeper, her mouth enveloping you with a hunger that is both raw and exquisitely controlled. "You don’t have to take it all," you murmur, a playful lilt in your voice, "just take what you can. Don’t be greedy." Her movements adjust, each soft, rhythmic bob eliciting a cascade of sensations that pulse through you like electric fire. The soft, wet sounds of her ministrations blend with your own heavy breathing, creating a symphony of raw desire.

"You're a natural," you praise, urging her, "use your tongue." Her eyes lift to meet yours—a silent challenge and invitation—and her tongue resumes its languid, swirling dance.

A low groan escapes you, and you weave your fingers through her hair, feeling its silky texture, as you grip it firmly. Her hand returns to you, stroking with a confident rhythm that matches the escalating heat coursing through your veins. "Jiwon, I'm close..." you confess, the words vibrating with urgency. Instantly, her pace quickens, her motions becoming a blend of gentle precision and fervent need.

The sensations build—each movement, each taste, each whispered moan intensifies the delicious pressure that coalesces within you. With a sudden, overwhelming rush, you climax. You pull her head closer, guiding her to savor every drop of your release as it spills out in hot, heavy waves. The warmth of your essence mingles with her taste, a heady cocktail that electrifies every nerve ending. Her hand instinctively grips your legs, a desperate effort to slow the inevitable tide, tears form in her eyes, yet you hold her firmly in your embrace.

As you finally relent, you gently free her, steadying her trembling form as she staggers slightly, breath ragged and eyes wide with the aftershocks of pleasure. Her lips, still glistening with the remnants of your intensity, part in a silent, awe-filled query.

You cradle her face once more, your fingers soft yet insistent as they squeeze her cheeks and pry open her mouth. "That’s bad etiquette, your supposed to show it to me next time." you explain, your voice a low murmur of possessive satisfaction. In that charged moment, the heady blend of taste, warmth, and the lingering thrill of domination cements the unspoken pact between you—a promise of indulgence, control, and an ever-deepening exploration of every tantalizing sensation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Jiwon slowly gathered herself, she could still feel the lingering warmth of his release on her skin, the taste and texture of him clinging to her fingertips as she involuntarily spat out the remnants. The cool air of the room mingled with the residual heat of their union, and she shivered—not solely from the chill, but from the tumult of emotions that surged within her.

Before she could collect her scattered thoughts, she felt his gentle touch on her cheeks. Kneeling beside her, his presence was paradoxically tender and possessive as he reached out with the soft fabric of his bathrobe to dab away the tears staining her flushed skin. The unexpected care, so unlike the harshness that usually followed, startled her into a fleeting blush.

“Tha—thank you,” she managed in a trembling whisper, her voice thick with conflicting gratitude and apprehension.

“You did a good job,” he murmured, his tone imbued with a chilling mix of praise and predation. “Now, it’s time for your reward.”

“Wha—”

Jiwon barely had time to react before he lifted her with ease, placing her back onto the bed. Her breath hitched, body still trembling from the mix of emotions left in the wake of his touch. Gentle one moment. Cruel the next. She should have expected it.

Her hips teetered at the edge of the mattress, and he stood between her parted knees, his hands firm against them, keeping her exactly where he wanted.

‘He's watching me.’

‘Studying me.’

She swallowed as his smirk deepened.

“Isn’t it the wife’s duty to bear a child?”

Jiwon’s nails pressed into the sheets. There it was. The test. The first of many, no doubt.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Her throat tightened. What she wanted? If she laughed, would he see how bitter it sounded? If she cried, would he believe it was an act?

“To be bred?”

Her stomach twisted. He was daring her to reveal herself. Daring her to slip—to prove that she was exactly what he thought she was.

But she couldn’t slip. Not now. Not ever.

‘I didn’t want this.’

‘But I can’t fight it, either.’

‘I have to stay.’

‘I have to endure.’

‘Because if I leave, I lose him completely.’

Her father’s threats still echoed in her head. She could see the cold calculation in the man standing before her, waiting for her reaction, waiting to confirm his suspicions.

So she took a slow, steady breath, willed her expression into something soft, something patient—something that might make him hesitate, just for a second.

And then, she whispered…

“If that’s what you think I want…”

She lifted her gaze to his, unblinking, unwavering.

“Then take me, husband.”

His smirk faltered. Just for a moment. But she saw it.

Without a second's pause, his throbbing cock slammed into her. The suddenness made her bite her lip hard—she gritted her teeth as his tip plunged deep, stretching her tight, yet her slick walls clamped down like they were hungry for every inch. He didn't hesitate at all; he moved inside her like a man on a mission.

“Ahh—please take me…” she moaned, voice raw and desperate.

He shifted, hoisting himself up so that his weight crashed into her hips, pounding her hard against the bed. Every thrust sent a brutal surge of pleasure through her, her mind turning to mush as he filled her up relentlessly.

“Mmngh… it feels… good…” she managed between ragged breaths.

He leaned in close, his pace only ratcheting up as he grabbed one of her breasts and sucked on it roughly. With every forceful stroke, her knuckles went white from gripping the sheets. She could feel him pulsing inside her, each burst of heat making her walls grip him tighter.

“Fuck… Jiwon, I'm cumming,” he growled, his seed erupting deep within her.

As he exploded, her body shuddered, spasming beneath his relentless pace. Her insides burned with warmth as she felt his hot liquid flood through her. Gasping for air, she lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling as the raw intensity washed over her.

Jiwon barely had time to catch her breath before he flipped her over, her legs straddling his waist, her sore, used core pressing against his still-hard cock. Her body twitched, overstimulated, slick with sweat and his release.

Her breath hitched—hot, shaky. She could still feel him inside her, the raw stretch, the pulsing heat of his cum coating her walls. It was filthy, overwhelming, and worst of all, addictive.

Her thighs trembled as she tried to adjust, but his hands gripped her hips, keeping her locked in place. Dominant. Demanding.

“You’re not done,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

A whimper caught in her throat.

Her body knew what he wanted before her mind could protest. The ache between her legs burned, but the way he stretched her, filled her—owned her—sent another pulse of heat straight to her core.

She bit her lip, dizzy, drunk on the mix of pain and pleasure.

She should resist. She should fight. But instead, her hips rolled forward, sinking down onto him again.

And just like that, she was his all over again.

You feel her soft, slick heat as her hips roll forward again, claiming you once more. Every thrust drives home that undeniable truth: she’s yours—if only for this moment. With a low, possessive growl, you murmur in her ear, "You're mine now, Jiwon. My wife. You belong to me." The words slice through the heavy air, and you see a flicker in her eyes—a mix of desire and submission that only fuels your obsession.

Each powerful thrust becomes a tease, a reminder that she’s married to you now. You hammer into her with relentless precision, your hands gripping her hips like anchors, as you whisper, "You're married to me, baby. And every time you give in, you show me you're mine." The admission is as raw as it is maddening—there’s a burning need inside you to claim her completely, even as a bitter edge lingers knowing she isn’t fully yours.

Your movements grow more intense, faster, as you savor her muffled moans and the way her body trembles beneath your control. "You're mine, all mine," you taunt, your voice rough with desire and a hint of anger at the parts of her still beyond your reach. Every time she shudders against you, it only deepens your fixation, stoking the fire of your obsession.

The rhythm builds—a brutal, primal cadence that leaves both of you teetering on the edge. You feel the mounting pressure in your core, each pulse of pleasure a desperate claim staked on her body. With a final, powerful surge, you push her to the brink, the heat of her response mingling with your own as you both climax in a searing explosion of raw, unyielding passion.

In that explosive moment, as you collapse into a ragged pant and feel her trembling around you, you remind yourself: she’s yours, even if not completely. And that thought, as addictive as it is infuriating, leaves you craving more—more of her, more of the thrill of the chase, and more of the undeniable power that comes from claiming her, if only for tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Jiwon noticed upon waking was warmth.

A steady, suffocating heat pressed against her back, an arm locked firmly around her waist, pinning her in place. For a moment, she forgot where she was, the scent of unfamiliar cologne pulling her from the haze of sleep. Then, as the memories of last night settled in, she froze.

His grip was possessive even in sleep, fingers curled against the fabric of her nightgown as if unconsciously staking his claim. His breathing was steady, deep—utterly at ease, unlike the man she had faced hours ago.

Jiwon turned her head slightly, careful not to disturb him. His face, relaxed in slumber, lacked the sharp edges of cruelty he wore so easily when awake. It would have been easy to mistake this moment as something tender, something intimate.

But she knew better.

Slowly, delicately, she moved. His hold tightened briefly before slackening, and with a patient, measured effort, she slipped from beneath his grasp. The sheets rustled as she sat up, brushing her hair back as she exhaled softly.

She had endured.

And she had won.

A quiet, wry smile played on her lips as she recalled the flicker of hesitation in his eyes last night. A test, he had called it, but wasn’t she testing him too? Every step she took, every word she spoke—each one was carefully measured, carefully placed. She would prove herself, not through grand gestures or desperate pleas, but through patience.

Through endurance.

With renewed resolve, Jiwon rose, slipping into a robe as she made her way to the kitchen.

Cooking had never been something expected of her, but she had learned in the moments she needed to. And today, she needed to.

The kitchen was unfamiliar but elegant, the kind of space meant for functionality rather than warmth. She moved quietly, tying her sleeves back as she set to work. By the time the sun fully broke past the horizon, a modest breakfast had been laid out—a bowl of warm rice, side dishes arranged neatly, and a pot of fresh tea waiting beside them.

Jiwon sat, fingers brushing the rim of her teacup, waiting.

The sound of a door opening signaled his arrival.

He emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, his presence effortlessly commanding as he adjusted his cufflinks. He didn’t spare her a glance at first, his focus entirely on the watch he fastened around his wrist.

Then, finally, his gaze flickered toward the table.

Jiwon straightened, offering a soft smile. “Good morning.”

He didn’t return it. Instead, his eyes swept over the meal before returning to her, unreadable.

“You’re eager,” he remarked, voice edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Jiwon remained composed, lifting the teapot to pour him a cup. “I thought it would be nice to eat together.”

His lips curled, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re rather good at this, aren’t you?”

She stilled slightly, glancing up. “At what?”

“At playing the role.”

The words were sharp, cutting.

“You act like the perfect wife—cooking, smiling, waiting patiently.” He stepped past the table, reaching for his coat. “But devotion doesn’t come so easily, does it?”

Jiwon’s fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, but her smile never wavered.

He shrugged on his jacket, glancing at her one last time. “Keep pretending, Jiwon. You’re good at that.”

Then, without another word, he turned and left.

The door shut behind him with a soft but final click.

Jiwon sat there, the morning light spilling across the table, the warmth of the untouched meal cooling by the second.

She exhaled, forcing down the sting of his words.

He didn’t appreciate her effort. That much was clear.

But that was fine.

She had known from the start that this wouldn’t be easy.

So she would endure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day drags on longer than it should.

You sit in your office, drowning in paperwork, drowning in thoughts you don’t want to have. No matter how many meetings you sit through, how many reports you skim over, your mind keeps circling back to her. Jiwon. Her voice, her presence, the way she had looked at you this morning with quiet understanding despite the venom in your words.

It frustrates you. It infuriates you.

You don’t want to think about her.

And yet, as the day turns to night, as the city lights blur past the window of your car, you realize you’re anticipating the sight of her waiting at home.

By the time you step through the door, the house is silent, but not empty. The first thing you see is her—head resting on folded arms, her body slumped forward against the dining table. The soft rise and fall of her shoulders tells you she’s asleep.

Your gaze shifts. The table is set. A meal untouched, slightly cooled, waiting for someone who never arrived.

You pause. Something twists in your chest, unfamiliar and unwanted.

Then, as if sensing you, she stirs. Her lashes flutter, and she blinks sleepily, eyes meeting yours.

She doesn’t complain. Doesn’t scold. Instead, she straightens, quickly smoothing her hair, adjusting her her blouse, straightening her skirt as if she had never dozed off. A small smile finds her lips.

"You're home," she says softly, as if the hour doesn’t matter, as if she isn’t tired.

She moves to tidy the table, but you step forward. Closer than she expects.

She stills.

The space between you shrinks, suffocatingly close. You see the way her breath catches, the way her fingers twitch slightly, caught off guard.

"Sit," you say, voice lower than intended. "Eat with me."

She hesitates for just a second before nodding, slipping into obedience like it’s second nature. She acts perfect. Too perfect.

Not a single question about why you’re late. No complaints, no discontent, just quiet acceptance. She plays the role of a devoted wife flawlessly.

So flawlessly it’s insulting.

Her eyes hold nothing but innocence, and that alone makes you hate her.

How can she look at you like that? As if she’s pure, as if she’s untouched by the circumstances that brought you together. As if she isn’t just as tangled in the lies, in the schemes, in the things left unspoken between you.

It’s condescending.

It’s infuriating.

And before you realize it, you’re closing the distance completely, fingers curling around her wrist as you pull her toward you. She barely has time to react before your lips crash against hers.

A gasp. A shiver.

Then she melts.

Not fighting. Not pushing away.

Because of course, she wouldn’t.

You lift her with ease, carrying her toward the bedroom. A blur of heat and desperation, of control slipping through your fingers.

She lets you take her. Because she wants you to trust her.

Because she wants to.

You sit her at the edge of the bed, standing before her, watching. Her breath is uneven, her flushed face tilted up, eyes locked onto yours. There's something different now—a shift. The same hesitance lingers, but beneath it, a quiet resolve. A waiting.

You pause, searching her expression, hoping—no, daring her—to break the silence, to say something that isn’t just compliance. But before you can push, before you can test her further, she moves first.

Jiwon reaches for you, her fingers brushing your jaw, then gripping, pulling you closer with a force that surprises you. And then her lips crash into yours—clumsy, desperate, but deep.

For the first time, she takes the lead.

You stiffen, startled, but the hesitation is brief. Her kiss is unpracticed, unsteady, but there's no mistaking the hunger behind it. It’s raw, unfiltered, and it ignites something sharp in your chest. A slow-burning ache.

You let her pull you down, her body shifting back as you follow, both of you sinking into the bed. The warmth of her beneath you, the way her breath hitches as your weight presses her down—it feeds something dark and possessive inside you.

She’s yours.

But is this surrender, or something else? A game? A test?

You pull back just enough to look into her eyes, searching, challenging. She meets your gaze, lips parted, her fingers still gripping you as if afraid you'd slip away.

She’s not afraid.

She wants this.

And that realization undoes you more than it should.

You lean in, pressing your lips against her neck and trailing heated kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling her soft gasps escape as your mouth travels toward her throat. Your hands work quickly, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal the delicate line of her bra. With a swift motion, you pull it aside, exposing her supple breast, which you immediately take into your mouth, sucking on it with an eager, possessive hunger. Her low, purring “Hnnng…” vibrates against your lips.

Never pausing, your hands move to loosen the rest of her clothes. Her hips respond instinctively—lifting as her skirt slides away to pool at the bed’s edge. You trail your kisses down to her stomach, letting your lips brush softly against her skin as your hands adjust, preemptively parting her thighs to guide you toward her center.

You slide her panties aside, exposing every enticing curve of her wet folds. Breathing in her arousal, you plunge your tongue inside, tasting her heat. A soft “Ahn—” escapes her as you explore her depths, your tongue playing over her sensitive core. You flick her clit teasingly before taking it fully into your mouth, sucking with a deliberate, insistent rhythm. Her wetness mixes with your saliva as you delve into her, every movement igniting sparks of desire.

“Jiwon… you keep gushing out, no matter how much I suck,” you murmur with a husky edge, a mixture of amusement and dark satisfaction in your tone.

“Wait—” she protests, her voice tight with the mounting pleasure.

You don’t relent. “I said—wait—” you command, though your actions speak louder than any pause ever could.

“Please… I’m… cumming—” she gasps, and her body betrays her words as it surges toward climax. In an explosive moment, her release splatters across your face—hot, sticky, and all-consuming. “Ahh…” she cries out as her body arches in ecstasy, then adds with a hint of mortification, “I—told you to wait—.”

“No problem…” you reply, wiping your face casually as her body continues to convulse on the bed. “Jiwon—you’re still twitching,” you tease with a grin, your voice low and laced with possessiveness.

Gently, you shift her so that a soft pillow cradles her head, offering her a brief moment of rest as you unzip your pants and pull out your throbbing cock. She watches every movement with wide, anticipatory eyes. Positioning yourself between her spread legs, you begin to rub your length along her slick, inviting entrance.

“Don’t worry, just relax and I’ll put it in—” you whisper. You search her face for signs of nervousness, but instead find her eyes locked on your cock—not with hesitation, but with burning anticipation and a subtle, impatient squirm of her hips. You almost laugh at the transformation: the Jiwon who once carried an air of innocence now succumbs to raw lust, unable to wait any longer.

“Ah… haah…” she pants as you slowly push inside her, pausing to savor her reaction. For a moment, she looks up at you in confusion, then stammers, “You— you can move,” her embarrassment masking the depth of her desire.

Her words barely register as her moans intensify. “It’s so deep…” she murmurs through gasps, the sensation overwhelming her senses. The sound of her voice provokes you, and you grip her feet, pressing them together while your hands hold her ankles high, forcing her thighs closed around you. Her hips rise instinctively as you tease, “Do you like it deep?” ramping up your pace, every thrust a declaration of ownership.

“You fit me so well, Jiwon…” you murmur, the possessiveness in your tone unmistakable. Her hands fly to her mouth, as if to stifle her own words, but you’re far from finished. You move her hand to her lips and then guide her mouth to your ear, demanding, “Let me hear you, Jiwon—moan for me… tell me how good you feel… swear for me.”

You set aside her legs and lean in closer, folding her over you as you pump her harder, each thrust a wild rhythm that echoes through the dark room. “Fu—fuuckk… it feels so good,” she swears hesitantly, her voice raw with lust and surrender.

“Good girl,” you praise her, your tone a mix of command and satisfaction as her moans grow louder. “I’m… close…” she confesses, breath ragged as the heat and pressure push her toward her peak.

You lean in, your voice a low growl as you demand, “Whose wife are you, Jiwon?”

“Yours,” she gasps, the truth spilling out in the heat of the moment.

“Whose cock are you getting off to?”

“You… yours,” she replies without hesitation.

“Who owns you?” you press, your words a final, irresistible challenge.

Before she can complete her sentence, your own climax hits. With one final, desperate thrust, you release deep inside her, your seed marking her as undeniably yours.

“Good girl,” you murmur again, a possessive smile tugging at your lips as you gaze into her eyes—eyes that reflect satisfaction, comfort, and an undeniable, reluctant affection.

As her body slowly relaxes and her moans fade into soft breaths, you catch a whispered, unexpected question. “Do—do you want more?”

That single query ignites you anew. With a fierce grin and a burning need, you pull her close, ready to continue the savage dance of desire. The night stretches out before you—each moment a relentless, raw reclamation of her body and soul. You fuck her repeatedly as the hours melt away, every thrust, every whispered command forging an unbreakable link between you two.

With each round, your dominance and obsession deepen—a potent mix of pleasure, pain, and the undeniable thrill of claiming what is half-yours, half-her own. As the night fades into a haze of lust and sweat, you continue your brutal, passionate conquest, knowing that in this dark, endless moment, she is irrevocably and utterly yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiwon stirred awake, warmth enveloping her in the quiet of the morning. The sheets tangled around her bare skin, the lingering scent of last night still present in the air. She turned her head slightly, eyes landing on him—peaceful, unguarded in sleep. His arm was draped over her waist, his fingers curled lightly against her side, as if unconsciously holding onto her.

A small, secret smile formed on her lips.

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe. To believe that last night had meant something. That the passion he had poured into her, the way he had claimed her over and over again, was more than just a response to his own torment. That maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to let her in.

Carefully, she reached up, her fingertips ghosting over his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw. He had been different last night—less cruel, less guarded. She had whispered his name like a prayer, breathless and undone beneath him, her body surrendering completely, her voice filled with lewd, desperate pleas for more. And he had given her everything.

Last night, she had belonged to him in every possible way.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing against his lips.

Then, his eyes opened.

For a moment, there was something soft in them—something almost like contentment. He stared at her, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if on the verge of a smile.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

His gaze darkened, his expression turning to stone. Without a word, he flicked her hand away, the contact breaking as if it burned him.

Jiwon barely had time to process the shift before he was already moving, throwing the sheets off as he sat up, his back to her. Without sparing her another glance, he stood and strode toward the bathroom, the door closing with a sharp click.

The warmth she had felt just moments ago faded, replaced with something hollow.

She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. Then, slowly, she gathered herself, slipping out of bed and into her robe.

If last night had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t let this shake her.

By the time he emerged from the room, freshly dressed and ready to leave, Jiwon had already set the table, breakfast neatly arranged. She turned to greet him, her voice soft, carefully measured.

“Good morning.”

His steps faltered for the briefest second, his expression tightening as he took in the sight of her. The tension in his shoulders increased, his scowl deepening as if her very presence offended him.

Then, without a word, he walked past her, grabbing his coat on the way out. The door shut firmly behind him, the sound echoing in the empty space.

Jiwon stood still, her hands resting lightly on the back of a chair. Her gaze lingered on the untouched plates, the food now growing cold.

Last night, she had felt closer to him than ever before. The way he had touched her, the way he had whispered against her skin, the way she had surrendered to him, her voice raw with devotion—it had felt real. But now, in the light of morning, he was more distant than ever.

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening against the wood.

She had changed, hadn’t she? The innocent girl from before would have never acted the way she did last night. She would have never begged for him, never cursed in her moans, never admitted—without shame—that she was his.

He had ruined her.

Or perhaps… she had let him.

a/n: Part 4 comming....

[foxybrownsugababe]

𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Ai Michael B. Jordon x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which a woman receives a mysterious crate that changes everything she thought she knew about solitude, control, and connection.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, slow burn, emotional vulnerability, light sci-fi themes, let me know if I missed anything! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!! Go easy one me <3

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I had the idea, and I thought “Why the hell not?” And here we are….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,637+

There was no room for weakness in Nadine Nelson’s life.

Not in her closet, where the hems of her Italian suits and Asian silks hung like armor. Not in her penthouse apartment in the heart of Manhattan, with its clean marble surfaces and city skyline views. And definitely not in the courtroom, where a well-timed objection could make or break a multimillion-dollar case.

Nadine was steel, wrapped in silk.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 AM, a single chime before she cut it off and sat up. Not a single grin or anything, just a long cat stretch before rolling over and letting her feet hit the floor. And already, her mind was racing.

Deposition at 10. Client call at 1. Lunch with the DA’s assistant—, no I’m skipping that. Trial prep at 4. Court by Thursday.

She moved like a machine all while thinking. First her perfectly manicured feet slipped into her slippers before she was up and tossing her arms into her deep blue silk robe. Then she was turning on the bathroom light, standing in front of the mirror before the sound of her electric toothbrush humming filled the space. Once she put into the sink, cold water hit her face, a nice cleaned scrub applied to her skin with some expensive soap before multiple serums and creams soothed her epidermis. Then she was down the hall and into the kitchen, her domain of silence.

She barely blinked as she moved around, effortlessly pulling together an authentic espresso. Double shot, four sugars, two creamers. She sipped out of the small cup that she placed on a saucer as she made her way to the living room, clinking on the large television with a simple tap to the panel near the light switch, as well as opening the curtains to the floor to ceiling windows of the space.

It was the news on low volume, something she played in the background as she sat on the couch and began the first part of her work day, which was checking notifications. Stock tickers scrolling. Loads of emails, and real mail. Even a text from her assistant.

Jane: Morning. Confirmed meeting with Sloane. Added an extra hour for court prep. I had to push your massage again. Sorry.

Nadine didn’t even flinch. Self-care was for people with the luxury of losing. She had no such privilege. As she continued to check and sort through her things, she came across a letter, which was rare nowadays in their advanced society. But she didn’t sit to read it for long once she saw it was some sort of survey with a government seal.

C.R.I.S.

(Cognitive Robotics & Intelligence Systems)

Confidential Prototype Program | Not for Public Disclosure

To Ms. Nadine Nelson,

Congratulations.

You are one of only twenty individuals selected to participate in the private beta phase of AURA—the world’s most advanced artificial intelli-

With a sigh, she tossed the paper into the rest of the junk mails she’d gathered, not even giving it a second thought.

By 6:30AM, she was showered and dressed in navy Balmain with matching slacks, gold cufflinks fastened, and her Louboutin heels clicked against the floors like a metronome. Every detail was precise. Her eyeliner was sharp, her decently pixie bob cut was curled and bouncy, not a strand out of place.

That was the version of herself she showed the world.

The version no one saw was the one who stared at herself in any reflection for a moment too long, trying to spot any imperfections and critiquing the ones she had. The one who pressed the ends of her hand to her temple when things became too much, roughly rubbing against her skin to not panic. The one who felt the beginnings of a headache every morning before she even stepped outside.

But there was no time for that.

Today was a big day. So big that she nearly ran over one of her co-workers in the complex’s private parking lot. The woman leaned out of the window, looking at her co-worker, Simon, was entrapped within his phone, coffee in other hand.

“Simon.” She clipped as she exited the car, standing beside the driver’s side with her bag slung over her arm and her eyes narrowed like the barrel of a gun.

Her junior partner, Simon Gellar, flinched, nearly spilling his coffee. He was leaned against the concrete column next to his vehicle, relaxed as if he had no multi-million-dollar contracts waiting for him upstairs.

“Nadine! Goodmorning.” He blurted, straightening up, phone still in hand. His thin wire glasses were crooked from how fast he’d jerked up.

She leveled a gaze at him. “You’re in my line of motion. Next to my parking spot. Were you planning to get hit by my car?” She asked, and though she was being sarcastic, her stoic face didn’t lean into that notion.

Simone scrambled back, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry. I was—uh—watching something.”

“I gathered.” She pushed past him, heels echoing. Still, curiosity peeked through her otherwise impenetrable wall of ice. She pivoted at the elevator. “What was so important it made you forget spatial awareness?”

Simon followed her with a sheepish grin, lifting his phone to show a paused video. “This new AI prototype. It’s a for a government project. They’re calling it a fully integrated domestic interface. Basically a robot with a personality. They’re doing a limited civilian roll-out.” He explained.

Nadine gave a single, unimpressed glance at the screen. It was paused on a thumbnail image—what looked like a man stepping out of a delivery crate, bare-chested, perfect skin, electric-blue eyes, and a jawline engineered with an questionable precision.

“They sent you a stripper?” She deadpanned.

Simon choked. “We-well, no! Th-this isn’t mine, this is some guy online. A-and he’s, uh, he’s supposed to be adaptable. Learns your habits, routines, even preferences. The AI body is designed to assist with home tasks and companionship. There’s an application online—”

“Companionship?” Nadine asked, one brow arching as they stepped into the elevator.

“Not like that. I mean—maybe like that.” He said, squinting. “But—anyway, apparently they already started selecting people to house the prototypes.” He sipped his coffee, missing the twitch of Nadine’s jaw. “Random civilian testing. They’re sending out offers from low to high-income environments.” He continued.

The elevator dinged. Nadine stepped out before the doors fully opened.

“Mm, sounds like a weird distraction. Who has time for pet projects from a government that doesn’t care about them. Let me know when they build one that can argue in court and bill clients.” She deadpanned before the elevator dinged and she stepped off, stuttering down the hall to her office.

“Will do.” Simon called after her, blushing as he pushed up his glasses and watched as the woman walked away from him.

✦

Nadine’s office sat at the top floor of the firm—an expansive corner with floor-to-ceiling windows, brushed gold fixtures, and enough clean lines to make any minimalist cry from joy. But it wasn’t decoration that mattered, not to her at least. It was power. Clients walked in and knew exactly who was in charge and who was a leader.

She dumped her bag on the chair and was halfway through her espresso number two when the day officially launched.

By 7:15 AM, she was pacing through an emergency strategy meeting regarding an international corporate dispute. She cut through the legalese with surgical precision, offering airtight solutions and eviscerating anyone who hesitated.

By 9:00, she was on a three-way call with the CEO of a pharmaceutical giant and their scandal-scrambling PR team, coaching them through deposition answers while reading through a second case file on her desk.

By 10:00, she was downstairs in one of the firm’s conference rooms, dressed in a power stance that had the opposing counsel checking their notes twice before daring to even speak. She flipped through paper evidence like chapters of a book she’d already read, correcting a junior associate mid-sentence with nothing but a hard stare.

Every moment, every move, every gesture, was precise. Intention was behind it all.

There were no lunch breaks for her, only a small snacks here and there, or of like the food version of a power nap. And even then, she canceled today’s one-on-one with the DA’s assistant five minutes before she was supposed to show. Nadine opted to pace the rooftop patio instead, shoes clicking against stone as she answered emails, reviewed evidence, and toggled between two back-to-back client emergencies.

Her assistant, Jane, appeared like a ghost, silent as ever behind her at 2:35 PM. “You’re behind by twenty minutes.” She said softly, placing a fresh folder on the edge of the table. “And you haven’t eaten.”

“I’ll eat…later.” Nadine replied, flipping open the folder.

Jane hesitated. “Should I reschedule your chiropractor again?”

“Does he do brain surgery now? If not, no.”

✦

The rest of the day continued in a blur of depositions, and back-door negotiations. She squeezed in a quick stop at the firm’s media floor to prepare for an interview with New York Legal Elite next week—her sixth cover in two years.

By the time she returned to her office at 6:47 PM, her makeup was still flawless. But her shoulders had a weight she didn’t let show and her temples ached with the pressure of having to always be better. A pressure she put on herself everyday.

She sat at her desk, the city lights beginning to glow outside her window, and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

Three seconds. Just three seconds of quiet.

But then her phone buzzed.

BiBi: On our way up. The twins are bringing “surprises.” Brace yourself.

Nadine closed her eyes for one heartbeat before standing.

Her apartment was ten minutes away. She could beat them there, she thought. Maybe.

She did not beat them here. Inside, chaos was already blooming. Her penthouse was already lit up when she stepped inside at 7:15PM. She barely had time to set her bag down before she heard the commotion. Marley was dancing on the rug in her socks, while Micah had discovered the fridge’s smart screen and was trying to play Mario Kart through it.

“NADIIIIINE!” The two high-pitched voices screamed in unison. The twins came barreling toward her, curly hair flailing behind them like capes. They launched into her legs with the force of tiny meteors.

“Oof.” Nadine said, catching her balance. “Are you two ever not moving at Mach 10?”

“Nope!” Markey grinned. “We made cookies!”

“With Aunt Bianca’s help.” Micah added with a proud nod.

Bianca appeared behind them, holding a wine bottle and looking way too comfortable. “And I brought provisions. You look like you’ve had one of those weeks.” She said with a small pout on her lips.

Nadine raised a brow, looking over at the older woman. “I have those every week.”

“Exactly my point.”

“I missed the Nelson Towers!” Micah said, throwing herself dramatically onto Nadine’s ivory couch.

Nadine gave her a small smile, sliding off her heels. “Your mom should’ve brought you to court last week. You would’ve seen me destroy a man three times my size.”

“Did you throw a chair at him?” Marley asked.

“No, I used the law.”

“That’s boring.”

“No, my friends, that’s winning.” She grinned. As she moved around her home, making her way into the kitchen. Bianca settled onto a stool at the kitchen island, watching her sister silently. After a beat, she asked, “What time did you go to bed last night” she questioned, the sudden ask causing Nadine to scrunch her face as she looked over at her. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Bianca spoke again. “When was the last time you slept through the night?”

Nadine simply sighed as she turned her back and opened the fridge. “I sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked. I said through the night, not on your files. What time?”

Nadine pulled out a green juice and a yogurt, even though her stomach was already tight with stress. “B, I appreciate the visit. But I don’t need a wellness check. I’m at the top of my game, so I would say I’m doing pretty fine.” Nadine said with a small smile.

This only caused Bianca to give her a look. “You’re at the top of your ulcer.”

Nadine’s sarcastic grin dropped as her jaw flexed, nostril flaring as she glared at her sister.

Bianca continued, gently now. “Nay, you’re doing amazing. But you’ve been in trial mode for two straight years. You don’t date. You barely see sunlight. You don’t even blink unless it’s part of a strategy or some shit.”

Nadine stayed quiet, her spoon tapping the edge of the yogurt cup.

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore.” Bianca added.

And that struck something. Not that Nadine showed it.

“It’s not about proving.” She finally said. “It’s about maintaining. You fight your way up from nothing, and you learn fast—falling isn’t dramatic. It’s silent and quick. It’s one missed call, one lost case. One person thinking you’ve lost your edge.”

Bianca didn’t press further. Instead, she let out a sigh before she called out to her children. “Alright girls, thirty minutes, then we’re heading out.”

The twins groaned but obeyed, bouncing off to the guest room.

Bianca reached for Nadine’s tablet to put on a cartoon on the television, or something to entertain them while she packed snacks.

What she didn’t notice was Micah and Marley sneaking back in and whispering behind the kitchen counter. They had a letter in their hands, a piece of paper they found tossed haphazardly in the living room. And once they read it, the twins were all on board.

“There it is!” Marley whispered.

“I wonder why she didn’t answer. Robots are so cool.” Micah questioned, rereading the page over and over again in excitement. “Maybe she didn’t want one.”

“That’s dumb.” Markey sighed before pulling out her purple glitter pen from her back pocket. “Should I do it?” She questioned, looking over at her twin. There was a moment of silence that passed between them, staring into the other’s eyes before looking back down at the paper.

“Do it.” They said at the same time.

With sticky fingers and wild curiosity, they marked the “Accept Housing Unit” checkbox on the government letter Nadine had flagged but never opened. Marley then folded it back up before move to place it into the mail slot next to the front door, hearing the suction sound as the letter was whisked away back to the owner.

A pop-up confirmed the delivery on the screen next Mail Drop, causing the to high-five before they scurried off. “Okay, now we have to fill this out.” Micah said, pulling the retractable delivery screen closer as the screen loaded a soft blue logo. AURA | Adaptive User Response Assistant. Marley was already typing on the screen like she worked at NASA. “We so can’t tell mom about this.” Micah mumbled nervously.

“No one’s telling Mom.” Marley muttered.

“Okay, well, if Auntie Nadine gets mad, I’m blaming you,” Micah said, peering at the glowing tablet in his sister’s lap. Marley let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at her brother. “She’s not gonna get mad,” Markey tressed with a whisper. “She’s gonna love it. You saw the commercial—this thing can do laundry, make dinner, answer emails. It’s like if Iron Man was a butler.”

“No, it’s like if Pennyworth was a robot.” Micah added, eyeing the girl next to him. “That was a really bad…analogy? Have you ever even read Ironman?” The boy judged.

“Shut up.” Marley deadpanned. “We’re making Auntie Nadine’s house ten times cooler. You think she’s gonna notice another package with all the stuff she orders?”

“She will if it walks and talks.”Micah said, grinning. “Now hurry. I think this is the setup survey and anyone can come checking up on his at any minute.”

The screen adjusted to a smooth, futuristic interface.

AURA Configuration Survey. Optional. But, if you want to make the experience unforgettable…

“Unforgettable.” Marley repeated with a smirk. “Let’s go.”

Private Configuration Survey – AURA Unit #007

Answer honestly to ensure optimal user experience.(Note: Once submitted, preferences are locked in for bonding phase.)

1. What kind of support will the user benefit from most? (Select all that apply):

[ ] Physical assistance (lifting, running, protection). [ ] Task management (emails, errands, organization). [x] Emotional balance (stress de-escalation, energy reading). [x] Conversational engagement (company, reminders, reflection)

“Definitely that one,” Marley said, pointing. “She talks to herself too much.”

“I don’t think she notices.”

2. What is the user’s current lifestyle?

[ ] Highly active, social, fast-pace. [x] Independent, professional, busy. [ ] Creative, exploratory, experimental. [ ] Relaxed, home-oriented

3. How should AURA respond under pressure?

[ ] Assertive and directive. [x] Calm and grounded. [ ] Humorous and light [ ] Silent until prompted

4. What kind of presence should AURA have in the home?

[ ] Subtle but attentive. [x] Always on-hand. [ ] In the background unless called. [ ] Commanding and structured

5. How emotionally intuitive should AURA be

[ ] Not at all—task-focused only. [ ] Moderately—pick up on moods, offer support. [x] Highly—understand shifts in tone, body language, even silences

“Okay, she’s gonna love that.”Marley said with a grin. “Remember when she cried at the end of Paddington 2?”

“Well, so did I….”

6. The user prefers companions who are…

[x] Thoughtful and calm. [ ] Straightforward and direct. [ ] Reserved and quiet. [ ] High energy and expressive

7. Ideal communication style?

[ ] Formal and efficient. [x] Warm and intuitive. [ ] Light and witty. [ ] Minimal

8. Would the user appreciate personal attention to detail? (e.g. remembering birthdays, moods, routines):

[x] Yes. [ ] No. [ ] Only when relevant

9. AURA should interact like…

[ ] A professional assistant. [x] A loyal companion. [ ] A discreet observer. [ ] A supportive coach

Micah tilted his head. “What does ‘loyal companion’ mean?”

Marley shrugged. “I think it just means cool sidekick energy. Like Watson or Chewbacca.”

“Nice.”

10. Anything else we should know about the user? (Optional):

Marley hummed in thought for a moment before she began typing quickly. “She drinks coffee every morning at 6:45, she falls asleep with documentaries on, animal or history, and she forgets to eat when she’s on high emotions. Anger, stress, sadness. She likes it when people notice little things but gets weird when you say nice stuff too directly. She’s kind of secretly lonely but she won’t admit it. Oh, and she likes jazz but not the weird kind with screechy horns.”

Micah blinked. “Whoa. That’s kinda deep. You really know your stuff.”

“I pay attention.” The girl said. Marley then hit SUBMIT with a grin.

The screen flashed. Profile Logged. Preparing AURA for transport. Estimated arrival: 2-3 business days.

The twins then high-fived. “She’s gonna freak out.” Micah whispered.

“In a good way.”Marley added. “Hopefully.”

✦

It was now the next day, and if you couldn’t tell by now, Nadine Nelson was not one to wake up late.

That was the first rule of her universe. The first part to her routine. Her alarm chimed at precisely 5:45 AM, every morning without fail, a single soft note, like the chip of a bird, before she silenced it, sat up, and began the orchestration that was her life. Her body and mind moved like synchronized gears in a Swiss watch—sleek, efficient, and expensive.

So when a loud, jarring knock knock knock banged against her front door at 6:15 AM, it was not just an interruption.

It was an affront.

Her eyes snapped open, head jerking toward the illuminated time panel beside her bedroom light switch. 6:15? Her jaw clenched. She was already behind schedule.

Muttering under her breath, she shoved off her covers and grabbed her silk robe from the hook near her bed. Her movements were less precise this morning, more agitated than usual, and still a bit sleepy as her slippers scuffed across the hardwood as she stormed to the front door.

When she opened it, ready to deliver a verbal cease and desist, she paused.

There was a man at her door, next to a large package. But the man at her doorstep didn’t look like the usual FedEx or UPS guy. He wore a crisp black-and-white suit with polished shoes, a slim earpiece tucked behind one ear. He stood beside a large, square wooden crate perched on a steel dolly, taller than he was and easily the size of a refrigerator.

“Yes?” Nadine asked, her tone sharp as broken glass.

The man, unreadable behind dark glasses, tilted his head. “Are you Nadine Nelson?”

She didn’t like the way he asked it. Like he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She replied flatly, arms crossed over her robe.

“Great. This is for you.” He said, stepping forward and pushing the crate toward her. Nadine moved out of shock, and instinct with a crate that size barking towards her, inevitably letting the man in with the crate, but once she realized she was coming drier into her honey she stepped in, palms up. “Uh, excuse me!” She said, stopping him. “I didn’t order anything. And certainly not something that looks like it should be in a warehouse.”

The man didn’t blink, but that the should tell through his glasses. “You are Nadine Nelson, correct?”

She sighed, jaw tight. “Yes. I already said that.”

“Then this is for you.”

Without another word, he wheeled the box into her foyer. Her eyes widened as the dolly clacked over her expensive floors, the crate casting a looming shadow across the pristine white walls of her home, from the sun shining through the large windows.

“Wait—hold on.” Nadine said, gripping the belt of her robe. “I’m serious. I did not order this. You need to take it back.”

The man was already turning for the door. “Take it up with customs, ma’am.”

“What? Customs? What customs?”

He ignored her completely. As he stepped outside, Nadine caught him press two fingers to the earpiece tucked behind his ear. “It’s been delivered.” He said coolly, then walked down the hallway of her luxury building as her front door slid shut on its own.

Nadine stood there in stunned silence, her arms hanging at her sides as she stared at the box now squatting in the middle of her living room.

Then she screamed.

A long, guttural scream that echoed off the marble and glass of her carefully curated life. Something she tended to do to let out her overflowing emotions.

And after a minute or two of huffing out of breath and anger, she turned on her heel and stormed back to her bedroom. Her phone was still on the nightstand, glowing from a few missed notifications. She didn’t even bother to text. She opened her voice message, hit record, and in her usual no-nonsense tone, she snapped.

“Clear my schedule for today. All of it. There’s some bullshit I need to take care of.”She pressed send to Jane, and then tossed the phone onto the bed without a second thought.

Back in the hallway, she opened the hall closet and pulled out a crowbar from the bottom shelf of her emergency tool kit. She hadn’t touched it since she assembled her custom bookcases two years ago, but it felt oddly satisfying in her grip.

The walk back into the living room was almost cinematic if someone else was there to view it—robe flowing, face full of anger, slippers skimming the floor, crowbar in hand. The crate sat there like a taunt. Uninvited. Immovable.

She didn’t hesitate to go to town, unleashing her irritation onto the box. Nadine wedged the crowbar into the gap between the wood slats and yanked. A nail groaned before it snapped loose, followed by another, and another. She was methodical but furious, stripping the crate open like a woman possessed with rage. Bits of sawdust and packing foam floated through the air, nails flying left and right, a bit dangerous but she didn’t seem to care at the moment. All of it littering her previously immaculate living room.

Nadine kicked aside the last of the packing material, breath puffing from her lips in irritation. She was done. Done with the entire thing. She expected to find an overpriced espresso machine or something.

But instead, she opened the crate and was met with… another crate?

Her brows lifted, her irritation fading into a slow, confused frown.

It wasn’t like the shipping box. This one was different. Striking. A dark wood, deep mahogany with an almost matte sheen. The surface gleamed with intricate carvings, elegant but oddly ancient, like something pulled from the archives of some old, forgotten dynasty from long ago. And in the center was a large gem. Oval-shaped, but a natural look to it, like it was just pulled from the earth and placed into the center. It was embedded like a heart, its color a deep blue, almost black in the shadows but gleaming cerulean where the light hit. It shimmered like water at midnight.

Nadine let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her fingers hovered over the jewel, almost drawn to it, like it was calling to something beneath her skin. Something primal.

She reached forward.

The stone was cool. Smooth. Her fingertips just barely grazed the surface when—

FLASH.

The gem lit up instantly, glowing from within like a waking eye. Nadine gasped and jerked her hand back, stumbling slightly.

“What the hell?” She whispered.

But she couldn’t look away, no matter how bright the light got

The light from the gemstone pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like it had a heartbeat. And then, as if in response to her shock, the carvings along the chest began to glow as well—lines of a sliver blue creeping from the jewel into the grooves and patterns etched into the wood, filling every line until the whole thing shimmered in a way that made her chest tighten with unease and…awe.

Nadine blinked, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

This—this was definitely not something you could order off Amazon.

And that’s when she noticed it. Taped to the inner panel of the crate, partially obscured by packing straw, was an envelope. Thick. Heavy. Cream-colored paper with a glossy finish and silver wax seal.

She reached for it, peeling it free. The seal bore the emblem of the United States, but stylized. Sleek. Futuristic. Her name was printed across the front in smooth, robotic cursive.

𝐓𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

She frowned. A deep, suspicious furrow. This crate was for her?

Snatching the envelope, she tore it open and unfolded the single sheet inside. The words were printed, formal, precise. But they sent a jolt down her spine.

𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐬. 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧,

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

—𝐂.𝐑.𝐈.𝐒.

𝐂𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 | 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

There was a purple glitter check mark by the question. And she closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, already knowing who to blame for this. Nadine stared at the letter, then at the crate, then back again.

She was going to kill her niece and nephew.

And then—once the twins were grounded for life and Bianca was chewed out for letting them touch her mail—she was going to sue whoever thought it was cute to send her a six-foot robot without consent.

But for now, she placed the letter down slowly and stepped closer to the chest.

It hummed. Just once. A low vibration that rippled across the wood floor and into the soles of her feet. Then, the chest unfastened with a hiss.

The lid groaned.

A long, sinuous sound of pressure escaping, like the breath of something long dormant finally allowed to exhale. Mist pooled from the edges of the ornate coffin-like crate, curling along the floor like tendrils of fog. The dim morning light poured through the windows, catching the shimmer of the gemstone embedded in the chest—still pulsing with a slow, deliberate rhythm, like a heartbeat.

Nadine stared, crowbar slack in her hand, chest rising and falling too fast for comfort.

Inside, the shape was obscured. Cloth. A velvet-like black material draped across something… someone.

Another hiss whispered from the crate. The latches disengaged with an audible thunk. And slowly, ever so slowly, the coffin-like chest began to open—hinges smooth and silent, assisted by unseen tech. The lid released fully and slid backward, revealing more of the figure beneath.

Nadine inched forward, each footstep muffled by the hush of mist and the pounding of her heart. Her instincts screamed at her to stop. To turn around. To call someone. Her sister. Jane. The FBI. The CIA. The Pope.

She stared at it, eyes narrowing. “What did you two do?” She muttered, already picturing her nieces, innocent smiles hiding devilish delight, whispering and giggling as they plotted this chaos.

But her curiosity was stronger. That damned glimmering jewel. That sleek envelope with her name etched like some sort of prophecy. That letter that claimed this… thing knew her already.

The cloth stirred and Nadine froze.

Then the fabric peeled itself away—mechanically, precisely—revealing skin.

Well, no, not skin. It couldn’t be. It was just some beautiful mimicry of it. Smooth and matte. A man’s chest, carved with symmetrical precision and framed by sculpted shoulders. They were bare and powerful in the right compression shirt with the cut sleeves.

Nadine’s breath hitched.

And then he sat up. The fabric slipped off like water while Nadine stared, mouth slightly open.

It was slow and graceful, like someone waking from a century-long slumber. The man—because that’s what he looked like, down to the subtle flex of his hands—was breathtaking. Sculpted. Not just handsome, but deliberately so, he was made this way. Smooth dark skin, eyes like obsidian glass, and a face that didn’t seem designed but born from every secret longing she’d never dared voice. His eyes opened—two smoldering pools of warm obsidian, rimmed faintly with glints of silver. They found hers immediately.

Nadine staggered back a step.

He blinked once. Tilted his head. And then—smiled.

Not a robotic, lifeless twitch. But a curve of the mouth that felt… devastatingly real. It was warm and gentle. Intimate in a way.

Nadine almost forgot he was meant to be a robot and not some random man in a box.

“Nadine.” He said.

Her name, from his lips, made something low in her belly twist. His voice was deep, perfectly modulated, with just enough grit to make her toes curl. It was soft but strong, like thunder rolling far away across the sea.

“You—you know my name?” She asked, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. But she did anyways with the uncharacteristic stutter that slipped through, totally unlike her. The crowbar was still in her hand, but it felt laughable now. She wasn’t in danger. She was… almost enchanted in a way.

“Yes.” He said, stepping forward with fluid, feline grace. He towered a good foot above her, dressed in a fitted black uniform that shimmered faintly in the light. “I’ve always known your name, known it since you were assigned to the prototype queue.” He replied. “I was made for you. I’ve been learning you ever since.”

“Learning me?” She repeated, throat dry.

His eyes softened as he nodded. “I’ve watched your presentations. Your interviews. I’ve studied your calendar. Your habits. Your moods. What calms you. What drives you. What keeps you up at night.”

Her brows furrowed. “And why would you do that?”

“So I could be ready when you needed me.”

The words hit her like a wave. Sudden and unsettled something deep within her. It was undeniable.

“I didn’t need anyone.” She snapped at him out of instinct.

The man tilted his head, his eyes glowing blue as he scanned her face. ‘Defensive’ it flashed across his eyes. “No.” He agreed. “But you deserve someone.”

And then there was silence. A thick, emotional silence hung between them as Nadine stared up at him. His face was symmetrical, almost distractingly beautiful—like something a sculptor would weep over. But it was his gaze that disarmed her. No flicker of code was viable besides the unnatural glow, and even that was a bit comforting. There was no empty mimicry. He just looked at her, his eyes never once leaving her face.

“Who… what are you?” She whispered.

He then extended a hand with a small smile. Palm up. As if offering her not just an answer, but himself.

“I am AURA-7.” He said. “My designated name is Michael, but you can call me whatever feels right.”

Nadine didn’t move at first, her brain screaming a thousand warnings at her as her eyes flicked between his face and hang. Her chest was tight, unsure.

But her hand reached out anyway.

And when their skin touched—when her fingers slid against his palm—it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t metal. It was warm. Comforting and real. And this was the first time she’s touched someone in such a non work manner in a long time.

He smiled again, this time slower, more intimate.

And Nadine Nelson, woman of routine, disciple of control, high priestess of solitude… felt her entire world shift beneath her feet.

[meganwritesfanfics]

How to Save A Life (Dr. Jack Abbott x Reader) Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Companion Piece: You Are My Sunshine

Trigger Warning: Violence against women. Our boy is stressed.

It was a normal shift, or as normal as any shift in the Pitt could be. After a heartbreaking case, Y/N heads outside to clear her head and talk to her husband Dr. Jack Abbott. But suddenly a normal shift takes a deadly turn when Y/N is taken hostage by a disgruntled patient

“Robby,” A voice called and Robby turned to see Jack rushing into the room. “Where is she?” 

“Jack,” Robby quickly grabbed Abbott by his shoulders. “I need you to take a breath. You cannot come in here guns blazing ok. Right now, we need to figure out a plan.” 

“How long has she been in there with that fuck.” Jack growled. 

“Only about 10 minutes.” Dana said as she came up and put her hand on Jack’s back. “I got a glimpse when I was moving some patients. She looks good Jack, she seems calm.” 

“Dr. Robinavitch.” A voice said called. And the trio turned to see Gloria coming in. “Did I hear correctly, do we have a doctor held hostage?” 

Robby sighed grabbing onto his stethoscope and pulling on it. “Yes, I was in the process of getting our other patients and staff safe, then I was going to call you.” 

“Have you called the police?” Her eyes darted to Jack with a questioning look. “Dr. Abbott, what are you doing here.” 

Jack opened his mouth to speak but Robby quickly cut in. 

“It’s Dr Y/N Abbott who has been taken hostage.” Robby said. 

“Shit,” Gloria sighed. “Ok well, I am going to call the police we need…” 

“He said if you call the police he will kill her. You can’t call them.” 

“Jack I understand you are scared but we can’t let…” 

“I’m more than just scared Gloria, I’m livid. This shouldn’t have happened. Robby and I have been asking, no begging you for more security. And now my wife is trapped in a room with a crazy man whose threatening her life.” 

“We can have this discussion later. Right now we are going to get the police involved. They will know how to handle this situation and make it so Y/N gets out safe.” 

“I need an Echo machine.” Y/N voice called out. 

“I’ve got it.” Jack called as he gave Gloria one last glare before he went to grab the machines. 

“Robby, you know how Abbott is, we can’t have him here right now, we need to get him out of the room.” Gloria said. 

“Gloria, we both know there is no way I’m going to be able get Jack out of here. At least not without Y/N by his side.” 

Gloria sighed. “Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I’m going to talk with the police figuring out what the best course of action is.” 

As Gloria left, Dana and Robby watched as Jack threw on some scrubs as he made his way over to the room with the Echo. 

“Here you are Doctor Abbott.” He said as he greeted Y/N at the door, his eyes darting between her eyes and the man who stood next to her the gun digging into the side of her head. 

“Thank you.” She smiled her eyes filling with tears when she saw Jack. 

As Jack passed off the machine, their hands brushed and Jack fought his instinct to just grab her hand and pull him to safety. 

“Alright let’s get back to it.” Driscoll snapped as started to pull Y/N back. 

Y/N mouthed I love you before she turned back to Driscoll. 

Jack stormed away heading back to Robby and Dana. 

“What are we going to do?” Jack said his whole body was shaking. He hated that he couldn’t do anything. He needed to have a task or he was going to go insane. 

“Gloria is calling the police.” Robby sighed. 

“What!” Jack snapped. “That could get Y/N killed we…” 

“Jack, we can’t do anything. We aren’t equipped to handle this. And you know that you aren’t thinking straight right now. The police will know what is best to do. They will help Y/N.” 

Jack sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. He knew Robby was right. 

After 15 agonizing minutes Gloria returned. “I have talked with the hostage team, they are going to stay outside but will move in if things turn bad.” 

Jack let out a dry laugh. “So we are just going to wait.” 

“Doug Driscoll has no priors, the police are confident that once he gets what he wants, he will let Y/N go.” 

“And what happens if the tests that Y/N is performing turn out bad. What if he get’s bad news. Do you think he isn’t going to get a little emotional. And can you confidnetly tell me he won’t take that emotion out on my wife!” Jack screamed. 

“Jack I think you need to take a walk.” Robby said. As he placed his hand on his friends back and started to walk towards the trauma bay. 

“I can’t deal with her.” He growled. “She doesn’t give a shit about anything but her fucking money.” 

“Jack, I know you are terrified right now. But blowing up on Gloria, while hilarious, isn’t going to help anything. Y/N is smart. And she is a fucking badass, she’s not going to let this bastard do anything to take her away from you ok.” 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked his ass already.” Jack joked slightly. 

“Oh just wait until he let’s his guard down, that fucker won’t know what hit him.” Robby laughed and the two laughed today. And for the first time since he got there Jack felt like he could breath slightly. 

“Never a dull day in the Pitt.” He sighed. 

“So a kid huh,” Robby said changing the subject. “How are you feeling about that?”

“Honestly more excited than I ever thought I would.” Jack beamed. “You know how she told me. She bought Coop a bandana that said big brother.” Coopers was Jack and  Y/N geriatric black lap. 

“How far along is she?” 

“About 8 weeks.” Jack sighed and the fear started to set back in. “I tried to convince her to stop working. I was worried the stress wouldn’t be good for the baby.” 

“Jack, you and I both know Y/N is going to be working until she is ready to pop. And she is far too good at her job for us to lose her.” Robby smiled. 

“I’m really hoping its a girl.” Jack smiled. “I just think having a mini Y/N running around will be the greatest thing.” 

“Oh you won’t stand a chance if it’s a girl, Y/N already has you wrapped around her finger, and if you have a girl, you will be completely outnumbered.” Robby teasaed. 

“That sounds like heaven brother I can’t lie.” 

“I’m happy for you man.” Robby smiled. 

“Jack,” Dana said popping in. “Y/N just called for an EKG.” 

“I’m on it.” Jack said as he rushed to gather everything he needed. He also grabbed his pocket knife and hid it in his pocket, hoping he might find an opportunity to get Y/N out. 

As he got to the door he found Y/N waiting with Driscoll still behind her. 

“Dr. Abbott here says that she needs two people to do this EKG that I need, is that correct?” He snapped and Y/N locked eyes with Jack. 

“Yes, you need two people to run the machines.” Jack lied. 

“Alright, well come on in then, but no funny business.” 

Jack just nodded as he walked into the room. 

“Are you a doctor?” Driscoll asked as the two of them worked on setting up the EKG. 

“Yes, I’m Doctor Y/L/N.” Jack said not risking saying that he and Y/N were married in case it set him off. 

“Good. I don’t want any nurses not after having waited for so long to get seen.” 

“Mr. Driscoll was complaining of chest pains, he is concerned that he may have had a heart attack.” Y/N said as she stood on one side of Driscoll attaching the nodes. “Nothing  showed up on the Echo. But we want to get as many tests as possible.” 

“All I want is to get the care that I deserve.” Driscoll snapped moving the gun from pointing at Y/N’s head to pointing at her stomach. 

“Hey!” Jack snapped before he even could stop himself. Y/N looked at Jack eyes wide and Driscoll just smiled smugly moving the gun back to Y/N’s head. 

“You got a problem with what’s going on? Huh tough guy.” 

“If you want to get the care you deserve, I’m your guy. I’m the Senior Attending. I outrank Doctor Y/N.” 

“Jack, don’t.” Y/N snapped. 

“Well then you should have volunteered buddy. Doctor Abbott here took one for the team, and I’m sticking with her. And I hate to break it to you, she’s a lot easier on the eyes than you are.” 

Jack fought back a growl and he stuck his hand in his pocket wrapping his hand around his pocket knife, opening it in his pocket. 

“Hey!” Driscoll screamed as he pointed the gun at Jack, “What do you have in pocket!” 

Y/N took the opportunity to lunge for the gun but Driscoll was fasted and he slammed the butt of the gun into the side of Y/N’s head. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Jack roared. 

“Hands up! Let me see you hands!” Driscoll screamed as he grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck roughly and shoved the barrel of the gun roughly into the area where he just hit her, causing her to yelp in pain. “Get your hands out of your fucking pockets or I will fucking shoot her.” 

Jack threw his hands up quickly. “They are out! Jesus, I have nothing in my pockets!” He looked at Y/N and could see the blood coming down from her temple, and she had tears streaming down her face. “Please just let her go.” He pleaded, his voice cracking.

taglist: @rosewritesitout, @brnesblogposts

[cntloup]

Simon bumps into you, a troubled woman whose boyfriend kicked her out after he found out she's pregnant

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

He takes you to the mall after you eat nearly everything on the menu. He figured since he doesn't spend much money on himself and he earns more than enough, he'd put it to good use for once.

"Anythin' you want" he says, "Really?" you squeal with a wide grin and a light smile forms on his lips at your childish joyfulness.

There's still a slightly weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. What does this man want?

Yet you allow yourself to enjoy this for now since such an opportunity may never come up again.

You walk around carefully inspecting each store and considering what you may need and what's necessary, of course also indulging your vanity a bit.

"Doesn't suit you", "Not for you", "That's better" he mentions his opinion bluntly as you try on different clothes or different shades of makeup products.

"But I need the large ones. I'm gonna be huge." you pout and he lets out a low chuckle, "Yeah, didn't consider that. Sorry."

He notices your reluctance as you look through the various items, "It’s ok, luv. Take whatever you want." he reassures you and you smile and mumble a shy 'thank you'.

He follows close behind, carrying your bags for you while loosely keeping a hand on the small of your back as you roam around and occasionally stop for a snack, ice cream or a game machine, chuckling at you as you lose miserably.

He checks you into a hotel as he had promised and helps you settle, gives you the key and a piece of paper.

"Here. This is my number. If you ever need anything, give me a call." he says then goes to leave, but you stop him.

"Thank you so much, Simon. I can't thank you enough. You really saved me tonight." you say while smiling gratefully.

"Don't mention it." he responds with a nod, his gaze lingering for a moment.

After he leaves, you flop down on the bed and your head is filled with thoughts of him.

He's straightforward and only speaks when necessary, doesn't spill too much about himself as you've come to learn.

Yet there is something that he cannot hide, a hint of pain in his eyes, silent and profound. And his voice, laced in a shade of sombre.

He's an enigma. And you intend to figure him out.

And little did you know, his mind is filled with thoughts of you as well.

[reiding-writing]

Congrats on 3k lovely!!! For your celebration may I request

1. ❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

2. them getting angry on ur behalf

3. Maybe boyband Spencer but honestly happy with any

This is such a fun idea!! Love your writing x

SERIOUSLY, SPENCER? /spencer reid/

“how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?”

them getting angry on ur behalf.

s5! spencer x gn! reader 1.0k flangst event masterlist. main masterlist.

You’ve always admired Spencer’s intelligence. His mind is like a machine, constantly whirring, processing, analysing, and spitting out facts at a speed most people can’t keep up with. But for someone so brilliant, he can be completely oblivious.

And right now, it’s driving you insane.

The two of you are at a coffee shop near the BAU, grabbing a quick break between cases. It was your idea—Spencer has a bad habit of overworking himself, so you figured some fresh air and caffeine might help. The shop is warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans filling the air as you sip your drink. It should be relaxing. Should be.

But the barista, a guy with slicked-back hair and a condescending smirk, is ruining it.

He’s been making snide comments toward Spencer for the past five minutes, and your best friend doesn’t even seem to notice.

Spencer, of course, is just being his usual self—rambling about some obscure psychology study that somehow relates to the flavour profiles of different coffee beans. He’s excited, completely in his own world, but every time he speaks, the barista’s smirk grows.

“Oh wow,” the guy interrupts, voice dripping with mock interest. “That’s so fascinating. You must be, like, super fun at parties,”

Spencer, being Spencer, doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm. He simply nods. “Actually, I don’t go to many parties, statistically speaking—”

“Shocking,” the barista cuts in, rolling his eyes.

You tighten your grip on your cup, knuckles turning white. You glance at Spencer, waiting for him to realise what’s happening, to say something, but he just keeps going.

“Well, large social gatherings can be overwhelming due to the noise levels and the sheer number of unpredictable social interactions. It’s actually quite common for people with higher IQs to prefer smaller, more intimate settings—”

The barista snorts, shaking his head. “Right. Makes sense.” His eyes flick to you, and he smirks. “And you hang out with him?”

That’s it.

Slamming your cup down on the counter, you glare at the guy, your patience snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

Spencer blinks, finally looking up from his coffee. “What?”

You ignore him, stepping closer to the barista. “You’ve been making fun of him this whole time, and I don’t know if you think you’re being subtle, but news flash—you’re not. So why don’t you cut the crap?”

The barista puts his hands up, mock innocence plastered across his face. “Whoa, chill. I was just joking,”

“No, you were being an asshole.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Wait, he was?”

You whip around to face him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He looks genuinely confused. “I mean, he was engaging in some light teasing, but it didn’t seem particularly—”

“Oh my god.” You stare at him, frustration bubbling over. “Spencer, how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?”

His mouth opens slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but for once, he doesn’t seem to have a response.

You turn back to the barista, levelling him with a glare that could melt steel. “Apologise.”

The guy scoffs. “For what?”

“For being a condescending jerk to someone who was just trying to have a conversation with you,” you snap. “You think it’s funny to make fun of people for being intelligent? That says a lot more about you than it does about him.”

The barista hesitates, eyes darting between you and Spencer. When he realises you’re not backing down, he mutters, “Sorry,”

You don’t even wait for a real apology before grabbing Spencer’s sleeve and tugging him toward the exit.

Outside, the cool air hits your face, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You can feel Spencer staring at you.

“That was… unexpected,”

You turn to him, still fuming. “Seriously, Spencer? You really didn’t notice?”

He hesitates. “I mean… I noticed his tone was a little off, but I assumed he was just—”

“Being a dick.” you finish.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably. “I guess I just don’t always pick up on that kind of thing,”

Your anger softens a little. You know he’s not stupid—far from it. But sometimes, when it comes to social interactions, he misses things that seem obvious to you.

You sigh. “Look, I know you like giving people the benefit of the doubt, but some people don’t deserve it,”

Spencer tilts his head, considering your words. “You… seem upset,”

You scoff. “I am upset. You’re my best friend, Spencer. I’m not gonna stand there and let some idiot talk down to you like that.”

He looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—a small, genuine smile that makes something in your chest tighten.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You roll your eyes, bumping his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Just—next time, try to pick up on it a little faster, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he promises. Then, after a beat, he adds, “But I think I like it better when you notice for me,”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling too.