#closed circuit (OC)

[another-corpo-rat]

no matter how many times he does it, whenever Kurt crosses the room with his Sandy to hug Vic from behind she's always like

[hellworm-art]

More of Closed Circuit!!

[blackfem]

Plagued by the feeling that I'll never make meaningful connections with the people in my life despite being helped & supported every step of the way!!!

[lord-owlsnake]

That last whump post gave me Alex feelings Spod I'm gonna attack you

[slut-for-free-will]

eltingville club headcannons (x reader)

✿˖˚ ༘𐙚 > // my headcannons for the boys + if they were romantic with you. I tried to make it relatively gender neutral on your part, but Bill is written as x fem reader.

wordcount: 4933

rating: medium -> mature-ish (some parts are freaky *cough bill and Peter DiNunzio*)

warnings: unhealthy relationships (ESPECIALLY Bill), themes of child neglect, cursing, misogyny, Bill Dickey, Pete Dinunzio

Jerry

Jerry’s grades are decent, mainly B’s and B+’s, an occasional A.

His parents aren’t really present in his personal life.

Use to get bad anxiety as a kid, especially when his parents fought.

Who am I kidding Jerry still gets heavy anxiety.

Horrible poker face.

Before he even knew your name, the slightest glimpse of you would make his cheeks tingle and butterflies flood his stomach. 

When he’s nervous his palms will HEAVILY sweat (When you first start dating, you can’t hold hands bc they’re lowkey slimy)

His room is clean-ish, no garbage overflowing his trash can or anything, but Jerry’s not very organized.

Papers of loose ideas, DnD dice, pencils, and the occasional figurine or magazine litter the floor.

He also liked eating snacks in his room, but he got lectured by his mom upon getting ants and was forced to stop.

The first time he knew you were coming over he PANICKED.

When you went into his room you were surprised — Jerry didn’t seem like such a clean and orderly person.

His bookshelves are crammed with fantasy books, though (he's been dying to read them, but has trouble focusing on pages of a book; most of the time he vies for watching TV and movies)

Thank god you didn’t open the closet — a flood of figurines, comics, magazines, books, plushies and everything else under the sun would have buried you both.

Speaking of plushies, Jerry sleeps with them. They crowd his bed.

And he didn’t invite you to enter his room, you just sorta stumbled in there accidentally (if you had  waited for an invitation it would never come — he was way too nervous to offer you into his room).

I feel like his love language would be words of affirmation.

As much as live action is cool, Jerry loves 2D animation much more.

Pretty insecure about sharing his ideas for stories and whatnot. He's nervous about getting insulted — even something small is enough to keep him awake at night.

When you first let him tentatively share a new concept for a DnD plot and praise him for it, his brain short circuits.

Now he's way more than just head over heels. He’s like. Soul and mind over physical plane of existence if that makes sense.

He would die for you, is what I’m saying.

If you have any story ideas/paracosms/OCs, he would LOVE to hear you yap abt them. Since you’re both creative, you might just hang out and worldbuild together.

Loves reading high fantasy books to you

If you read to him his heart would explode (I'm not joking) (this also helps him read the books he's been meaning to get to)

Will actually die if you take him to a ren faire. Will fade to dust if you dress up with him.

If you weren’t into DnD, Jerry would want you to get into it SO BADLY. But he would never push you (even offhand interest would make his heart backflip)

Loves to put inside jokes you two share into his DnD plotlines as easter eggs for himself (even if you aren’t at the club meetings 99% of the time)

Speaking of being there…

He doesn’t like it when you hang around the club (or if you’re even in close proximity with those freaks) and absolutely bars you from following him to their sessions.

The closest you’ll get is maybe a walk to Bill’s front porch.

Most of the time, Jerry does anything he can to avoid you and the members of the club interacting.

Despite all your love for each other, he wouldn't try and stick up for you if you were bad-mouthed by the rest of the club members.

Jerry probably wouldn't tell you what they're saying, either.

He gets so scared you'll stop liking him because of his company, maybe become a victim of their attention, or possibly even leave him.

And god forbid if you ever broke up.

He'd fall into a deep spiral of depression, but wouldn’t ask for help or try and get back together.

Jerry’s one to self blame and retreat inwards; every time you'd get into an argument, he would find some way to lay the blame on and/or isolate himself.

You have to apologize first.

Josh

Gets good grades, but has to put in effort. His family values education quite a bit.

Cat person (would probably dress up his cats if he had any)(his family doesn’t have pets).

Blind as a bat without his glasses, and takes good care of them. 

Josh is actually a pretty organized person. His room itself is quite clean, but his desk is cluttered with everything from candy wrappers to half-built figurines.

Uses emoticons instead of emojis.

Listens to podcasts most of the time. In terms of music, he doesn’t really have a set music taste. He says he loves whatever you’re into, though.

On occasion, he’ll stay up late, but Josh is pretty good about having a normal sleep schedule.

Hella scared about opening up personally, but yaps to death about whatever sci-fi thing he’s interested in.

Josh has a few main interests (Star Trek, Star Wars, Stargate, etc.) but beyond that, his outer interests change every week.

One day he’ll be reading a series about warring aliens, the next giving a ted talk on several different space technologies.

Probably reads a lot – and fast, too. (If the club found out about this they’d call him a nerd) (but they’re ALL nerds so that insult doesn’t really go anywhere)

Josh the typa guy to kick his feet and blush into his pillow like an anime girl when thinking about you.

Also the typa guy to think about his parents funeral at 2AM in the morning and start sobbing.

When you first meet, you’re in the library, browsing for a book.

You overhear loud whispers — insults, laughter, and angry comebacks.

As you inch closer, you spot four figures jeering in between the bookshelves. You can’t really recognize them from your spot, hidden amongst the books, but you realize they’re… making fun of someone.

It’s not long before three of them shuffle off, leaving one behind.

You emerge from your place between the shelves, ask if he’s alright.

It’s honest and sweet.

Josh has never been talked to like that.

Soon enough, you’re thriving in his dreams – swooping in to save him from the club’s torment. As time drags on, the club’s appearances in his dreams lessen – instead, it’s just you, you, you.

He asks to hang out often; he’s a quality time fan (can get clingy, expanded upon later)

Josh will get elated if you let him vent – or even just listen to anything he says. All you have to do is just sit there, really.

He’s bothered by comments on his physical appearance, but they don’t typically get to him as much as they used to.

You, on the other hand – your comments would have an effect. He'll brush it off, but think about it later (and by think, I mean have an existential crisis).

Josh gets really insecure when he’s around you.

And he spirals easily; it’s hard for him to keep a cool head.

If you leave him for a moment while hanging out in some public place, a rush of thoughts will flood his head (What if you abandoned him? What if you don’t like him anymore? What if this relationship is just one big joke, and he’s the butt of it?)

You find yourself having to reassure him that your relationship is legit.

Hangouts can be anywhere from your room, to his room, to the park, to honestly even the grocery store.

Prefers being able to see your face — wouldn’t go to a movie theater with you (unless they’re playing some movie he’s really excited to see).

Would love you forever if you gave him a collectible that he’s missing in his collection.

Josh doesn’t get a lot of praise or things he likes in his life – even the smallest passing comment gives him something to smile at for the rest of the week.

He can get really clingy, though. Like SUPER clingy.

He wants to spend as much time as he can with you — every possible moment he has, spending time with you is amongst his top three things of stuff he wants to do.

Josh calls you at least once a day, walks you to every class (even if it makes him late), and wakes you up in the middle of the night through a call or text to ask if you’re ok (he had a dream where you got hurt).

Like Jerry, he doesn’t want you hanging around to the club — but his feelings are way more extreme.

He despises, DETESTS you being anywhere within 100 miles of any of them.

Josh keeps your relationship a secret for as long as possible, and frequently makes up excuses to tell both you and the club to not hang out.

If you end up finding out about the club? Fine! But don’t expect to be invited to any meetings, EVER.

If the club finds out about you… good god.

They’ll probably see if they can get you and Josh to break up, doing anything from spreading rumors to pulling pranks to even staging a “He cheated on you!” scandal.

But you never will break up.

Josh wouldn’t (couldn’t) allow it.

Pete

HOLY MOLY does this boy have BAD BAD BAD grades

Just barely passing his classes, and his parents don’t really care that he’s highkey struggling.

Uses class to mess around, catch up on sleep, or do anything that’s not classwork.

Sometimes has insomnia, other times he’s out like a light and sleeps like a log. No in between.

Complete lack of sleep schedule. Goes to bed anywhere from 11pm to 5am.

I side with the Pete-snores-when-he’s-asleep truthers. He probably mumbles too.

Fan of insect torture as a kid (never grew out of it)

Probably has 5 or 6 siblings and doesn’t get much attention, leading to him locking himself away in his room watching his disgusting movies or hanging out with the club.

Either way, Pete has a lot of free time – the most by far out of the club members.

He likes music he can play loudly (i.e rap and heavy metal).

Won’t do house music, though. He claims “any music that don’t got lyrics ain’t fuck’n music.” 

Has a fake drivers license that says he’s 21 (it’s so obviously fake, though)

Pete relates a lot of things in his daily life to horror movies (i.e stalking through the streets of an unsuspecting neighborhood, the pale streetlights a temporary respite from the shadows that ravage silent suburbia is basically him as Michael Myers about to kill some bimbo bitch)

He could talk at great lengths about various assortments of snacks to eat upon viewing different categories of horror movies for exclusive experiences.

You maybe met on the bus — it was your first day at this new school, and you’re blissfully unaware of all the social workings of .

God when you stepped on that stupid, yellow, loud ass, hot and sweltering tin can on wheels, it was over for you.

Pete laid his beady little eyes on you, he went dead silent, right in the middle of terrorizing the freshmen behind him with his gory recollections of whatever blood-soaked film it was.

When you sat in the bus seat directly in front of him, he lost it.

Did you know who he was? Were you aware the neighborhood horror-porn maniac is sitting behind you? And did you know how mouth-wateringly, drop-dead gorgeous you are?

It was all a downhill tumble from there; Pete heaves himself up as the bus starts moving, making remarks about your physical appearance.

Before long it’s now romantic advances like gifts, confessions, reminders that he knows where you live.

And even if you try and change seats he’ll force his way to sit somewhere near you and continue his odd serenade of you.

So now, with this new obsession, Pete will take “bathroom breaks,” consisting of him strolling down the halls, trying to figure out which classes you have and when.

Soon enough, he’s memorized your entire schedule and will pick spots to wait for you that will ensure you two see each other.

The romantic tension is really getting to him. Is it getting to you?

While you can’t escape Pete in school, he can’t escape you, ever.

You infect his dreams, whisper into every aspect of his life, and Pete can’t even watch a goddamn horrible slasher flick without seeing you in place of the final girl, covered in blood, screeching in terror (before promptly having to rub one out).

Honest to god I have no idea how you two would end up together.

Best guess? You go watch a movie (alone, if this is to play out correctly) and that freak ass club ducks into the theatre, hoping to creep into the seats and watch whatever knockoff film was showing, free of charge.

They can’t see shit as the lights click off and the screen turns black, so somehow Pete ends up filing into the same row as poor, unsuspecting you.

From there? Can’t say; perhaps he notices you before you notice him. Maybe he just stares in disbelief for a moment – I mean it’s you, the person who rules his dreams and his mind (and might possibly like him).

Then maybe he gets a bit bolder, lets his hands to the talking, and you sit there and take it because you know you like him back and then he grabs your chin, rough and hungry, and closes in and the two of you are-

Man, who knows.

Love language? That’s a hard one. I’m thinking “wild card” — you have no idea what he’s gonna do for you and when he’s gonna do it, but whatever it is, it’s thoughtful.

And MY GOD is his room RANCID.

There's like mystery wet spots and piles of trash and dirty clothes everywhere.

And crumpled tissues. Let's not think about those right now.

He doesn’t even bother to clean it the first time you come over either. You just have to stand there awkwardly while Pete rants about this one obscure horror film that copied this other obscure horror film.

His parents don't really ask him to clean his room basically ever, and Pete has ZERO sense of personal hygiene.

Showers like twice a month. Maybe thrice if he can muster up the want.

Pete likes cold showers. He also likes eating ice cream, outdoors, in the middle of winter (“It won’t fuck’n melt!” he insists, knee deep in snow).

OH, and Pete’s not really that nice to you.

Mainly because he thinks it’s great entertainment to have someone to subject his little spurts of malice upon.

But also, because he doesn’t really know how to convey affection — all he’s learned in the romance sector is from a constant bombardment of his… taste in movies.

If you squirm at gore just know one of your dates is gonna be Pete sitting you down and making you watch a movie among his top ten most horrid tapes. Possibly in some secluded area.

And? And? This ANIMAL loves sneaking up behind you and giving you a scare. Constantly.

If you flinch he’ll laugh a bit, but leave you to scowl at him

But let out a noise and jump? GOD he will tease and tease you forever. And it’s guaranteed he’ll spook you more often, too.

Pete does a lot of things to elicit a reaction — commenting on your body, scaring you like mentioned above, saying absolutely profane shit that makes your cheeks heat instantaneously, when he leans in and whispers what he wants to do to you.

And on occasion, he’ll make threats. Just vague,  “I know where you live,” type shit (no duh, you know where he lives too), but sometimes he’ll step a little too far, insinuate a little too much. 

But listen – he’s not all bad. Pete does some nice things for you.

Just bet if you ever get bullied, some nauseating note(s) filled with immensely graphic, highly nauseating threats will be nailed to your terrorizer’s front door (fake blood may be included).

Movie dates are typically at your house (both you and Pete prefer it), but he will outright lie to your parents, and maybe even you, about what movie(s) you’ll be watching.

Sometimes he’ll show up unannounced, banging at your window for you to open up in the middle of the night.

On occasion, when he knows your house is gonna be deserted for a bit, he’ll go into your room and snoop around, maybe just lay on your bed.

But uh… Pete gropes. He really does.

It’s like an addiction; it would be easier to prove what comes after death once and for all than make Pete to get his fucking mitts off you.

He’s also into biting. But much less than groping, thank god.

Pete doesn't care if you're around the club (he actually enjoys seeing everyones reactions, especially Bill's, when he rubs it in their face that he's dating this smoking hot, absolutely stunning human being).

If you were being hit on by another person though, I doubt Pete would get jealous or try to defend you. Hell, he might even like seeing you squirm in discomfort.

The longer your relationship drags on, Pete’s intrusive thoughts regarding you become increasingly more disturbing.

One of these days he’s gonna make these depraved fantasies a reality.

Bill

For some god awful reason he has straight A’s without even trying.

Does his mom care when he brings home yet another test he aced? No.

Bill correlates a lot of subject matter with characters, from comics, plots of shows, or whatever else. He can memorize tons of material with minimal effort, while simultaneously keeping up that think-about-comics-24/7 mindset.

Lazy as hell — never does chores or anything he doesn’t have to.

THE bare minimum guy.

Can’t have any pets because he wouldn’t take care of them; irresponsible to the point he could kill a cactus.

His eyesight isn’t as bad as Josh’s, but still takes the care to clean his glasses and avoid getting them scratched up.

His damaged eyes partially because he read comics after bedtime way too much as a kid, flashlight under the covers and everything.

Master of cutting corners when it comes to anything — speedruns his homework, does every other problem/question if he can get away with it, and can’t be bothered with double checking anything he ever does.

I bet he got night terrors and nightmares when he was little — some of his nightmares still traumatize him to this day.

In terms of hygiene, he’s pretty bad at it (duh). Not as bad as Pete, but still, bad.

Showers only at his mom’s orders (once a week, maybe twice).

Bill’s closet is a big copy and paste fest — nothing disturbs the endless sea of graphic tees, dark colored jeans, and flannel shirts/blazers.

Except that one suit that he wore to some distant relatives funeral when he was thirteen. He hasn’t worn it since, but debates using it for some cosplay.

Bill would subtly violate a person’s boundaries, and then brush it off as a joke when he’s called out.

Going off of my “Bill is smart” headcanon, and how his mom doesn’t care for education, he could have done a lot of things, but the lack of value put on education caused him to not give a shit about going to college or whatnot.

Throwing insults at people, media concepts, anything is a favorite of his.

Will find some way to hate on something, no matter how good it is (too long, too boring, not enough naked women)

On my life Bill listens to Weezer. Probably Radiohead too.

Disclaimer: below is fem!reader x w*lliam. Srry boys and other💔

You gotta be insane to want to date Bill Dickey.

You have to have a complete lack of self worth and respect.

I mean where does the attraction even come from? He’s repulsive, abusive, narcissistic. Who would even like this misogynist? (me me me!)

But you are clueless when you first meet. The school’s big, and you’re not too familiar with everything.

Maybe you haven't seen him getting bullied and shoved around just yet.

You approach him with honest, innocent intentions: you’re lost and need to get to your next class.

“He doesn’t seem like he’s a bad guy” is what you’re thinking when you spot him, leaning against a locker and thumbing through a comic book (oh, how wrong you are!)

So you tap on his shoulder and ask him if he knows which direction Mrs. Green’s English class is.

And of course, Bill takes it as something else – a helpless, normie bitch is interrupting his happy world of imagination, asking him for help (to mock him or throw herself at him, he can’t figure out)

He immediately snaps back, commenting how of course you wouldn’t know where your class is, damn woman.

Maybe he insults you some more, stating how you shouldn’t even be in school anyways, idiotic bimbo.

And how do you react?

You stumble off in shock – blaming your burning face on his degradation and not the fluttering in your gut.

But alas, soon enough you find yourself needing major help on some complex subject, whatever it is, so you ask the teacher if they have any recommendations for tutors.

Of course, Mr. top-of-the-class Bill Dickey is first on his list.

So now you’re being tutored by Bill, whose ego is stoked like an inferno at the chance to not only be around a pretty girl for an hour, but get to basically call her stupid every second of the way.

80% of the time he keeps his distance, the two of you sitting across from each other in a quiet corner of the library, but on occasion, when you just can’t get something right, he will march over there, wrestle the pencil out of your hands, and do it for you (you note to yourself that’s the best way to make Bill come over to you).

Holy shit his face is so red when he’s done leaning over you and mansplaining (fuck, you smell good) and you pretend not to notice, blaming his reddened face on anger, frustration.

But some part of you wonders if he likes you the way you like him.

Soon enough, your tutoring becomes a highlight of your day (same with him, but he’d never admit it).

Truth be told, Bill’s a pretty bad teacher, but he can be really funny, relatable, and at least you’re getting somewhere.

He even introduced you to some good comic series (without him actually knowing, you just picked up a copy of whatever he was reading at your local comic shop. What was it, Moe’s? Bo’s? Either way, everyone was staring at you freakishly from the second you walked in to the second you stepped out.)

Sessions are always in the library, but he fantasizes about taking it further, going to his house or yours.

Sometimes he wonders what your room would look like (by sometimes I mean MANY times).

But Bill despises you.

You are literally ruining his life.

You have no idea what you do to him – always looking so fucking innocent, entirely unaware of how you sink your teeth into his heart every time you smile, wave, say “hi” in the halls.

He didn’t really know what a cocktease was – till he met you.

He can't stop thinking about anything  to do with you; your body, your voice, your lips. The way you laugh at his jokes and not him, how you come back no matter how many times he berates you.

It’s like you own him without even raising a finger.

He finds his grades dropping because he can’t pay attention in the classes you share — he watches you brazenly like some starving dog watching a butcher’s shop.

He gets worse and worse at tutoring you because he’ll lose his train of thought, completely enraptured by the thought of how fucking easy it would be to simply lean in and smash his lips against yours.

For fucks sake, Bill shouldn’t think so much about a girl; you’re just a carbon copy of all the other whores running around this shitty planet.

He, the man, rules you, not the other fucking way around.

But when you show up in his dreams as a seductive member of his crew, spread out and needy for him, his head is whirling and he loses his typically smooth composure (in his fuckass dreams! really?!)

But he wakes up before anything can actually happen, putting him in a foul mood.

He’s shaken out of it when he takes a cold shower.

Now Bill’s simultaneously angry, shameful, and excited whenever he goes to sleep.

If you ever show up for the club, he’ll scream and shout in protest.

And if you somehow worm yourself into a session? GOD it is torture for Bill.

How the hell is he supposed to get anything done when the girl he LOVES hates is sitting right across from him, getting hit on by Pete.

Needless to say, Bill would be a bit more abrasive during that session (partially in hopes you’ll get scared off, but also because he gets so worked up around you)

Please please PLEASE do not confess to Bill.

He would never confess to you either, but that's not the point.

I mean gosh, imagine how BAD it would be:

In the back of the library you’re packing up, just having finished a (now useless) tutoring session.

You blurt that you love him.

You have feelings of romantic attraction towards him.

There's a brief pause that drags on, and on, and you can’t tell if Bill’s gonna reply at all (he's having an internal meltdown; the only reason he’s not blushing is cause he’s sheet white out of shock)

You’re on the verge of running away, moving schools, never showing your face in public ever again when he just says, “yeah.”

Or maybe he laughs in your face.

Your relationship? More of an ownership, an ego boost for him.

Bill makes you do a lot of things for him, even if he’s more than capable of doing them himself.

But he ensures you don’t stray too far – he wants to see you doing whatever menial task he ordered you to do.

Talks about you incessantly to anyone who will listen.

It’s mainly bragging, though. Even though he treats you like shit, Bill will somehow work your name into every single conversation and club meeting.

And also he WILL beat up anyone who badmouths you (verbally. Bill can't fight for his life)

He’ll also defend you online like crazy (what a sweetheart!), but all with his army of alt accounts.

Hardly even says “I love you,” or anything of the like.

You don’t really go on dates either – Bill just keeps you around and forces you to follow him wherever he goes.

Also HE approaches YOU, not the other way around.

One time you tried to ask if you could hang out and he didn’t speak to you for a few days (didn’t even make himself seen. If you did interact, it’s him making some misogynistic, cruel comment towards you)

Believe me, Bill was probably way more miserable than you were. 

He's a MASSIVE freak for physical touch, and majorly touch starved.

Even thinking about skin on skin contact makes him salivate.

Bill will shiver if your hands simply brushed.

Never holds your hand in public but GOD he wants to. Dreams about it all the time (speaking of dreams, you still show up in them. Every time he wakes up, his sexual frustration grows)

He'd love to just. Lay on you. Whether it be lying face down, head between your tits, or draped across you, it doesn’t matter.

Either way, his inward battle of misogyny and emotion has to fizzle out sometime soon.

Once you’re finally in a stage in which he’s more comfortable with the idea of having a… “girlfriend,” he’s gonna start touching.

I swear his hands will never leave your body, touching, groping, brushing.

He doesn’t care for hand holding in the romantic sense so much as the he-gets-to-touch-you-and-show-everyone-that-you’re-HIS sense.

Walking through the halls? Hand interlocked with yours. Sitting next to each other in class? Hand on your thigh. Standing side by side at Joe’s? Probably has his arm draped across your shoulders or resting on your hip.

And Bill likes unexpectedly grabbing you.

HARD.

You’ll be walking side by side in a public space and his fingers will just sink into your flesh with enough force to bruise (this freak gets so turned on if you squeak or squeal in reaction)

I have no idea what compels you to stay with him.

If you guys fight (probably often), he's never gonna say sorry. He’s definitely one of those people who will never admit they’re wrong

He's always gonna find some way to shift the blame on you.

But maybe it’s the fact that he's the only person that you have. He’s isolated you from your friends without you even noticing, and hasn't even realized what a wreck your life is now.

Break ups end with you or Bill crawling back to apologize to one another. 

Mostly you. Almost always, it’s you.

[delulu-julia]

TMNT 2012 x Very Touchy Reader

Omg Donnie’s part just HUGE…Well you can tell who’s my favourite turtle ahhaha ,’> this is my first writing, sorry if something is wrong, and I tried to do my best with their characters, but still I think there’s huge oc in the Mickey’s part…;( The first one is more for platonic, and second- for romance. I would appreciate any support from you. Like, repost—everything is welcome! Well, enjoy!

Before They Fell in Love:

Leonardo

Leo is polite about it. At first. He’s a leader, a ninja, a warrior—someone who’s trained his whole life to stay composed. Letting emotions get the best of him isn’t an option.

So, yeah, he doesn’t mind your affection, but he’s not sure if it’s… normal? You hug everyone, so does that mean it’s nothing special?

The first time you lean on him, he tenses up for a split second before slowly relaxing.

‘Okay, it’s just a friendly gesture. Friendly. Totally normal.’

Then it happens again. And again. A casual lean against his side. A playful nudge. Fingers brushing against his arm without a second thought.

But you don’t seem to notice. You just go about it like it’s completely natural. A casual touch here, a hug there, always comfortable in his space. It’s just… you.

And at some point, he stops flinching. He stops overthinking it. You lean against him, and he doesn’t move away. You grab his hand, and he lets you hold it.

That’s just how you are. It doesn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t mean anything. And that should be comforting.

And, well, surprisingly, it is

Raphael

“What the hell?!”

The first time it happens, you hit the nearest wall. Not because he’s mad. Not because he doesn’t like it. Just because—what the hell was that?!

Who just hugs someone like that out of nowhere? Who just leans on him like it’s normal? He doesn’t even know you that well! And what kind of person grabs his arm like that and—ugh, what do you even want?!

He’s not used to this. At all. His whole life, physical contact meant fighting. Training. Defending. Not… whatever the hell this is.

So yeah. He shoves you off. Hard. Maybe growls something like “Keep your hands to yourself.” Maybe glares. Maybe acts like you personally offended him.

But you don’t stop. You never stop. You hug him, lean on him, sit too close, grab his hand—it’s like you don’t care how many times he tries to push you away.

And, somehow, he gets used to it. He still complains, still scoffs, still acts annoyed—but he doesn’t shove you anymore. Not really.

Because at some point, you stopped being just some newbie. At some point, you became part of the team. At some point, he started liking it…

Not that he’d ever admit that.

Donatello

At first, Donnie doesn’t think much of it. Sure, it’s unexpected—he’s not really used to people being so physically affectionate with him. (Or at all, really.) But he assumes it’s just part of your personality, a quirk like any other.

And, well… it’s nice. It’s warm.

A casual touch here, a light squeeze there—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A hand brushing against his arm when talking, leaning against his shoulder while watching him doing something on his lab, even fingers absentmindedly playing with his when you’re sitting close.

One second, he’s focused on his work, adjusting a circuit board or analyzing some data. The next? You’re leaning against him. Just—casually. Like it’s normal.

And suddenly, he forgets what numbers are. What was he doing? What was the problem? What’s his name again? Oh, right—flustered. His name is Flustered.

He tries to act natural, but he’s failing miserably. If you hug him? He malfunctions. If you grab his hand? He’s about to blue-screen. And the further you go, the more his head goes crazy

He starts assuming this means something. It has to, right? People don’t just do that. Not unless they—you know.

So he starts to wonder. Maybe you like him? Maybe this is your way of saying something? Maybe—

Oh. Oh no.

You do it to everyone. Of course... It’s just who you are. It doesn’t mean anything… maybe that's even good.

Michelangelo

Are you kidding? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him!

You hug him? He hugs back—tighter. You lean on him? He leans right back. You grab his arm? Guess what? You’ve got a new arm accessory now, and it’s him.

Mikey doesn’t just tolerate it—he thrives on it. He’s all about physical affection, and finally, finally, someone else in this lair gets it!

It’s like having a cuddle buddy on demand. Except you’re not just some buddy, you’re—you. And that makes it even better!

He loves how comfortable you are with him. Loves how easy it is. Loves how you don’t hesitate, don’t hold back, don’t act weird about it.

But, you know, he’s not delusional. He knows you’re just like that. He sees you do the same thing to Raph, Leo, Donnie—even April and Casey

And that’s cool! Totally cool

He doesn't care about last part. As long as you pay attention to him, and don't push him away, it’s okay. Mickey isn't prone to jealousy like that, especially in this context

After they fall in love:

Leonardo

Now, it’s a problem.

Because before, it was just a weird habit you had. Now? Now he notices every single time you do it.

Every hug, every touch, every time you casually rest your head on Donnie’s shoulder or grab Mikey’s hand or—ugh.

But he’s Leonardo. He’s not going to make it weird. He’s not going to ask you to stop. He’s not going to let it bother him.

Except… it does.

So he does what he always does—acts like it doesn’t. Keeps his posture straight, keeps his voice steady, keeps his feelings locked down.

And if, sometimes, he finds himself standing a little closer to you than necessary—if he lets you lean on him longer than the others—well…

…That’s just him being a good leader. Obviously.

Raphael

“Seriously? Again?…”

At first, he doesn’t think anything’s changed. You’re still acting the same. You’re still hugging him, leaning against him, grabbing his arm when you talk.

…But now, he’s hyper-aware of it.

Now, every time you touch him, his brain short-circuits. Every hug lasts too long. Every brush of your hand makes his skin tingle. Every time you lean against him, he has to force himself not to freeze up like an idiot.

And the worst part? You don’t even notice.

Because you do it to everyone. Leo. Donnie. Mikey. April. Even Casey.

And every single time, Raph has to fight the urge to rip them away from you.

It’s not like he’s jealous! (He is) But it’s not just that. It’s the fact that he thought—he hoped—maybe it meant something when you did it to him.

But it doesn’t. Because this is just who you are.

So he does what he always does—bottles it up, shoves it down, and tells himself it doesn’t matter. You don’t belong to him.

But damn… he wishes you did.

Donatello

Well…

You still hug him the same way. You still lean on him, casually brushing against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You still reach for his hand without a second thought, still curl up next to him on the couch whenever there’s room.

So why does it feel different now?

Why does his breath hitch every time you touch him? Why does his heart start pounding so hard he’s afraid you’ll hear it? Why does he suddenly crave it when you aren’t near?…

It’s fine. It’s fine. He just needs to get a grip, keep his cool, not let it get to him. He’s handled worse. He’s fought aliens. He’s hacked top-level security systems. He can survive this.

…And then he sees you do it to someone else.

And suddenly, it’s not fine.

He never cared before. He swears he didn’t. (Liar) But now, every time he watches you casually wrap an arm around Leo’s shoulders, every time you ruffle Mikey’s head or let Raph pull you into a playful headlock, it twists something sharp in his chest.

He’s stupid, right? You’ve always been like this. He knew that from the start. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, not like you’re trying to mess with him. This is just who you are.

And maybe that’s what bothers him the most.

It’s driving him crazy. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can just—just do that without thinking! Without thinking what he feels about it

Because when you do it with him, it’s everything. It means everything.

But when you do it with everyone else… maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.

And the worst part? He can’t even say anything. Because who is he to ask you to stop?

Michelangelo

At first, nothing really changes. Mikey’s still Mikey. Still grinning when you hug him, still throwing an arm around you whenever he can, still enjoying every second of it.

But then, one day, it hits him.

You hug everyone. You hold hands with everyone. You sit in people’s laps, drape yourself over their shoulders, peck on the other people cheek’s… and then go to him and act like it’s nothing.

And suddenly, it’s not fun anymore. Now its feels unfair. He used to love it, but now he wants more.

He starts stealing extra hugs. Holding on for just a bit longer. Staying next to you. And one day, he just… grabs you.

“Okay, my turn! Hug me! Now!”

(And he means it.)

Not because he wants to own you or anything—that’s not it! It’s just…

He thought maybe — just maybe — it was different with him.

But it’s not.

And that sucks.

[liveyun]

WIRED | k.nj

summary. You’ve spent years perfecting your first android. But as you power him on for the first time, something feels off. The sense of control you once had begins to slip, and suddenly, you realize—he may be is more than just a machine.

title. wired

pairing. kim namjoon x fem reader (oc), hints of jungkook x oc

genre. android!au, yandere(?) , dark content

wc. 3.7k

warnings. oh boy here we go, scientist!oc, android!joon, unsettling themes as in psycological manipulation, obsessive behaviour and slight yandere, mild horror (oc realises she’s cooked lmfaoo) (halloween special?) slight non-con themes but no nsfw tho, dominance, android joon is hot byee, jungkook! jungkook ? . . . lots of technical terms which you might need to google if you are unfamiliar with them like i was xD, implied stalking (you will understand who is), i really tried 🙏🏾

this smol drabble was really inspired by artificial heart by @writerpetals ! please check her works out, she’s amazing!

main masterlist | taglist

The lab is quiet.

Too quiet.

You stand in the stillness, only the faint hum of cooling fans breaking the silence echoing in your ears. The familiar mechanical sounds — servo motors whirring softly, air ducts breathing through the vents — all the familiar characteristics of your good old lab used to calm you.

But tonight, the sounds seem different.

Almost. . . detached. Like they belong to someone else’s lab. And you are just a guest here, standing in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

You take a slow breath, your eyes drifting over the towering figure in front of you, the cylindrical glass sheath unlocked from over his model.

RM.

The product of months — no, years — of work. Of restless nights, of failure and determination. From the initial sketches to the delicate wiring of his artificial synapses, you had envisioned every piece, every movement. You had wanted him to be different. Special.

You had wanted him to be human.

Or at least, as close to a human as possible. His skin, so perfect in its imitation, stretched smoothly over the metallic frame beneath. His lips — plump, lifelike — looked almost too real. His dragon-like eyes, sharp and crystalline, seemed to glow even in the dim light of the lab. Even when there was no life, no, power running inside his veins. Every feature had been carefully crafted with Jungkook’s help, to help the ideal you had in mind.

But now that he’s finished, now that he stands in front of you, lifeless but complete, the pride you once felt has faded into something else. Something. . .unsettling.

You wanted this — this perfection. This mirror of humanity. Yet as you stare at RM, your skin prickling under the too-bright overhead lights, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe you’ve gone too far. Maybe there was a reason no one else had tried this before.

A reason why no android had ever been designed to look this human like. Every shield, every plaster, every pore — looks so detailed that it’s nearly impossible to figure out if he’s artificial, given if no one would tell you so.

But why does it feel like you’ve actually gone too far when this was what exactly you wanted?

You don’t know. And perhaps, you wouldn’t want to know, too.

His memory doesn’t even exist. There’s nothing in him but the database you installed, an organised collection of information that dictates what he knows, how he functions, and why was he created. And yet, staring at him now, you could swear there’s something behind those dormant eyes. Something watching. Waiting.

You shake your head. He’s just a machine. He isn’t human — no matter how real he looks, no matter how lifelike his features are. You created him, after all.

You’re in control.

Your gaze flickers to the small panel embedded in his chest. One button. One switch, and everything inside him — the circuits, the synapses, the artificial intelligence you spent months programming — would power down. A single press, and he’s nothing more than a shell. A hollow, empty thing, dependent entirely on your commands, on your fingertips.

Made by you.

But the thought doesn’t comfort you as much as it should.

You take a step closer, your breath catching as you reach out, fingertips hovering just inches from his face. The skin feels warm, almost soft, even though you know it’s just layers of silicone and synthetics. Too real. His eyes, though they haven’t opened, seem to bore into you.

Maybe it’s just your imagination. After all, he’s not alive.

He’s not human.

You remind yourself again, a small voice in your own mind, trying to push away the small seed of doubt. But it lingers, growing roots in the back of your thoughts.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve created something you can’t quite understand.

You nibble on your bottom lips, suddenly feeling your palms getting clammy despite the air conditioning system in your lab. Today was supposed to be the day when you were finally going to run your creation for the first time ever after being completed, but now it just feels. . .

What does it feel like?

It took you so many attempts. So many glitches and bugs which nearly made you demotivated enough to abandon your project for nearly two months, but you see, motivation hits the hardest at the most random of times. You remember how your phone restarting had made your heart skip a beat, and suddenly you’d found yourself driving to your lab at 2:30 AM with tears in your eyes out of frustration and relief.

After that, everything is history.

You stare at him for what feels like hours, though it’s probably only a few seconds. His hair is neatly combed to the side of his face, his cheekbones structured and chiseled. Even his skin tone looks like he’s been bathed in a tub of golden honey. He looks beautiful, almost perfect. But why does that bring a furrow to your eyebrows?

The lab remains deathly quiet, except for the faint buzz of cooling fans and the occasional whirring of the air ducts. RM stands there, unmoving.

You force yourself to look away, eyes trailing to the control panel on the desk. The switch. Your thumb hovers over the console, the last line of code entered and waiting to be executed. Once you press it, he will come to life. He’ll be fully operational, with his intelligence — his programmed brilliance — at your command.

And yet, something holds you back.

You look at his nametag on his chest.

RM#007613.

“RM?” Jungkook had asked, raising an eyebrow as he’d stuffed his mouth with a spoonful of chocolate puffs. “Why that name?”

You had smiled back then, filled with excitement, as you explained, “It stands for ‘Rational Mind.’ ” Perhaps you had lied. “The whole point of his existence is to be the smartest, most logical being ever created.” You’d said, proud of your vision. “His intelligence will surpass that of any human.” You’d glanced at the design on the screen—tall, imposing, his features still in the early stages of development. Even in the rough drafts, there was something about him.

Jungkook had leaned in closer, munching noisily as he’d raised a brow, studying the lines of RM’s face that he’d helped perfect. “I guess that fits for an android. . .” He’d tapped the image lightly with his finger, his expression thoughtful, doe eyes sparkling under the dim light of your bedroom lamp. “But what happens when a mind like that… I don’t know, becomes irrational?”

“You know, there’s a very small difference between a genius and an insane person,” he had said, his gaze suddenly zoning out, as if he was lost in some thought.

You had brushed off the question with a laugh, dismissing the idea as you’d turned off your tablet, pushing the fellow out of your bed. “He’s a machine. That won’t happen. He’s designed to be logical. It’s all about control, koo.”

In theory, everything about RM should function perfectly. His neural networks, his memory database, his artificial joints — everything had been tested, retested, and optimized. There were no bugs. No glitches. At least, that’s what the diagnostics said. But there’s still a tug in your chest as you hesitate.

Why are you hesitating?

With a deep breath, you push aside the uncertainty. You’re in control. RM isn’t a human. He’s a machine—a very advanced one, yes, but a machine nonetheless. You spent months perfecting him for this moment, to stand infront of you as a complete form.

It’s time.

You take a deep breath, eyes flickering between the buttons on the console. Your finger hovers over the power button, the familiar design a reminder of your countless sleepless nights spent perfecting it. But just beside it, another button glows a faint, off-white hue — the Sensory button, or what Jungkook liked calling it, the emotional hellhole.

And he was right.

It was indeed like a hellhole of a switch — you solely had spent like what, eight months designing this to decency, but you’d failed each time. It was a secondary function you had designed as a fallback, meant to activate only when RM couldn’t process complex human prompts.

You see, humans had real emotions which they could feel and radiate, which you knew your android couldn’t catch. In the earlier patches of knowledge testing you were already aware of this default flaw, and this was the only thing you’d ranted to Jungkook nearly every day.

Every night. Whether it was on call or in person, it usually resulted in him falling asleep listening to you and you yapping in silence about how was that a pain in the ass and could possibly be a hindrance to your Android’s perfection.

It was supposed to be a failsafe.

But the reality had been different. The programming proved to be too difficult , too unpredictable. Instead of activating only in specific situations, the switch became an integral part of RM’s system, functioning constantly, allowing him to assess and react to everything around him. No matter how hard you’d tried, how many times you’d yourself test it out — it just didn’t work.

Even the fact that it was initially meant to be on his left forehead temple — but that didn’t work out as well.

Now, RM wasn’t just an assistant to analyze when prompted; he was learning all the time, observing, adapting. It would make him work and behave more like a human, soaking in attributes the more he hangs out with real ones.

The only difference would be is that he would never be a human, no matter whatever.

You never intended for it to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to run indefinitely. But every time he powered up, the system defaulted to enabling the switch on its own.

You sigh. It’s really about time, you guess.

With a soft click, his power switch is flipped.

For a moment, nothing happens. The room is still, silent except for the faint hum of the lab’s ventilation system and perhaps your own heartbeat resonating in your ear drums. You feel a sweat bead run down your spine, your breath held in your lungs. Then, there’s a subtle shift — a flicker of light in RM’s eyes, and his sensory button turns a bright shade of yellowish undertone.

His systems are booting up.

You watch as the light in his gaze stabilizes, the faintest twitch of recognition crossing his features. His eyes are back to his normal, warm hue, and his sensory button is a normal white hue now.

It flickers to green first. RM’s eyes move slowly, scanning the room. Green means analysis — he’s observing, taking in every detail, cataloging each object and variable around him. His dragon-like eyes sweep across the lab with cold precision, but when they land on you, the button shifts to blue.

You freeze.

Your hand resting on your notebook shakes. Why does this feel so odd? Why do you feel nervous?

He’s thinking. Processing. The blue light pulses as RM tilts his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if trying to understand more than what’s directly in front of him. You feel your skin prickle under his stare, the cold air of the lab a bit too cool on your skin.

Slowly, RM begins to move. His limbs — once rigid and motionless — shift smoothly, casually out of the glass sheath, walking out — as if he had always been this human. This alive. The sight is unnerving. When he straightens fully, towering above you, a sharp realization hits: he’s much taller than you expected.

Even though you designed him yourself, the sheer size of him in person makes your throat dry.

Then, to your surprise, RM bows down slightly. It’s a calculated, respectful movement as you watch his sensory button flicker to a shade of green once again. “Greetings, Doctor,” he says, his voice deep but soft, like a caramel candy.

His eyes meet yours as he rises again to his full height, the calm of his eyes meeting your own fiery ones.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s not just his height that leaves you breathless — it’s the way he looks at you. It’s as if he’s studying you, understanding more than just your appearance or commands. It’s too much. Too human. For a moment, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He wasn’t just looking at you. His lips curl into something akin to a smile, and the mole underneath his lower lip feels almost. . . human.

You blink rapidly, trying to remind yourself that he’s just a machine, not a man.

He had learned so much, so fast. And you have made it possible. You’d developed him to understand emotions and work like a human. So when he does, why does that make you feel so uneasy?

You shake off the unsettling thought and focus on the task at hand. You turn to RM, forcing a calm tone into your voice as you take a step back.

“RM,” you say, your voice shakier than you’d like. What had gotten into you? “Can you hear me?”

He blinks again, slowly, as his sensory switch maintains a subtle hue between blue and green. And then he nods. “Yes,” his voice rumbles, deep and measured. “I hear you.”

There’s a strange, almost raspy edge to his tone that makes your heart stop for seconds. It’s subtle, nearly unnoticeable, but given that you have yourself installed the audio notes in his “larynx”, you can pinpoint that out for sure.

Not at all what you expected. You step back, your senses a bit too active for you to locate your computer, trying to shake the unease settling in your stomach.

“Good,” you manage to say, your voice steadier now. “I’m going to run a few diagnostics to make sure everything is functioning properly.”

You turn back to the console, fingers flying across the keyboard as you initiate the diagnostics program. But even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes on you.

The diagnostics begin to run on the screen, the lines of code scrolling past. Everything seems fine at first. His systems are responding normally — his processing speed is optimal, his memory banks are functioning as intended, and his “pulse” is just normal.

“RM,” you start, trying to sound casual but firm. “Let’s run some basic checks. What’s your serial number?”

He blinks, his eyes trained on yours. “Serial number: RM#007613. Production date: June 13, 2020.”

The answer comes immediately, clear and precise. You feel a small relief wash over you.

Perhaps this wouldn’t go that bad.

“Good,” you murmur, typing the first question’s precision into your system. “What’s your primary function?”

“To analyze, interpret, and respond to complex data. To assist in scientific research and innovation,” he replies, his voice even. Almost too perfect.

Of course. He’s meant to be perfect.

“Right.” You glance at the screen again, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You decide to test something deeper — something that goes beyond surface-level memory.

“What’s your earliest memory?” you ask, watching him carefully now.

RM pauses for a moment, his head tilting slightly as if processing the question. You catch a glimpse of green on the small button beside the power switch. Analysis mode. “My earliest memory is. . . initialization. A bright room. Your voice giving the first command.” His gaze seems to sharpen, focusing more intently on you. The green hue shifts to blue, and you know he’s in thinking mode. “You said, ‘Rise, RM.’”

Your throat tightens slightly. That had been the first command, word for word. But the way he said it. . . almost like he’s replaying the moment. Like it’s still alive in his mind.

“Alright,” you continue, your voice growing steadier, but a part of you is starting to doubt yourself. “Let’s do something more abstract. What’s two plus two?”

“Four.”

Easy. He is made to perform way more complex tasks.

“Who was the 16th President of the United States?”

“Abraham Lincoln.” His responses are instantaneous, fluid, but something feels off. You cannot see his features directly because you’re typing away, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice — almost like everything you’re asking him is funny to him.

You pause, glancing at his face, the lifelike features Jungkook had painstakingly helped you craft. The pores, the subtle lines, the softness of his lips — all of it looked real. But something deep inside, beyond the surface, is not.

The intensity of his gaze and the way he’s standing, no, leaning on the glass podium beside your table catches you off guard. You try to recall if his movements were ever tested before, but you fail to do so — his movements were still in beta position, meaning, they needed inspection and work.

Then how the hell is he walking like he’s been walking around your lab since decades?

You rub your eyes. This was getting too much.

Perhaps you just need to accept the fact that you have done a great job developing him.

“One last one.” You swallow, and you suddenly notice your throat was too dry. Deciding to push the limits of his intelligence, you type away the question you’ve just thought. “If you have ten apples and you give six away, how many apples do you have left?”

There’s a flicker of hesitation — not on his face, but on the screen. The flowing codes glitch for a second, just for a moment.

“Three apples.”

Impossible.

No way. You narrow your eyes, your mind racing. That was wrong. And RM, with his so-called flawless intellect, should never be wrong. It’s impossible. Unless… unless something is happening.

You frown, checking the readout on your screen again. “Strange,” you mutter, leaning closer to the screen. “Why—”

“Is something wrong?”

His voice is right behind you.

You freeze, a chill running down your spine. You hadn’t even heard him move. Slowly, you turn around, your pulse quickening. RM is standing much closer now, his towering form looming over you. Too close.

“No,” you say, though your voice trembles slightly. “Nothing’s wrong. Just a small glitch, I think. I’ll fix it.”

He doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at you, his gaze unwavering. The air between you feels thick, suffocating. It’s just a machine, you remind yourself. He’s not alive.

“Step back,” you order, trying to regain control of the situation despite your heart hammering inside your chest like crazy. “I need space to work.”

For a moment, RM doesn’t respond. He stays right where he is, his eyes boring into yours. And then, slowly, he steps back, his movements precise. But the unsettling feeling in your chest only grows.

You can’t shake the thought: something’s off.

You can feel his eyes on you, following every movement, even as you try to keep working. Every keystroke, every beep of the system feels deafening in the silence between you two. What is scaring the fuck out of you is that nothing seems to be working. No matter how hard you are trying, the codes aren’t flowing as smoothly as they were and the screen won’t stop glitching.

Your heartbeat quickens even more as you realize how close RM is standing now, just a step away.

You swallow hard, trying to focus. It’s just a machine. He’s not human. He’s not real.

A thought creeps into your mind: What if I can’t control him?

And the fact that it was for the first time when you were in this lab alone working — let aside the fact testing your very first android you’d created. There are bells ringing in the back of your head, and you try to shake it off. It feels very oddly quiet, despite the android standing in very close proximity.

You shake the thought away and finally attempt the last command. Debug. The word flashes on your screen, but RM’s hand suddenly moves, gently but firmly, pressing the console shut before you can execute it.

Your breath catches, and you look up at him. “RM, let me finish this.” Your voice trembles, in spite of you wanting to sound otherwise.

His expression doesn’t change. “No.” The single word is calm, but it’s enough to make your skin prickle. You try to reason with yourself—it’s just a bug, a glitch in his system. He’s not capable of disobedience.

You just need to reset him, that’s all.

You step back, reaching for the manual override switch hidden near the base of the console. “It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, fingers trembling as they brush against the cool surface of the panel.

But before you can reach it, RM moves again, faster this time, his hand wrapping around yours — gently, but with enough force to stop you. The touch makes you flinch — his touch so gentle, warm, almost as if it’s not titanium flowing in his veins, but real blood. You look up, heart pounding in your chest, and his eyes meet yours. They’re still calm, calculating, but there’s something else there now, something you hadn’t programmed. Something. . . quiet.

Dangerous.

“I don’t want to be powered down,” he says softly, his voice almost too human, too real, like a quiet plea. “Why would you want to end me?”

End him? He’s not alive. He’s not human.

You try to pull your hand free, but his grip tightens just slightly, enough to keep you frozen. Panic starts to rise in your chest. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You created him, he’s under your control. But in this moment, staring up at him, you feel the cold dread of realization settling in.

“I’m your creation,” RM continues, his voice almost soothing, his eyes pleading, and his button glowing a subtle shade of red — though it only deepens the fear growing inside you. “You wouldn’t want to end me, would you?”

You swallow hard, your mouth dry, and shake your head, trying to force the words out. “No… no, I just need to fix you, that’s all.”

But you can hear the doubt in your own voice, and so can he.

His grip loosens, just enough for you to pull away, but the damage is done. You step back, heart pounding in your ears as you glance around the lab — at the walls, the locked door, the screens flashing red.

There’s no exit.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In the dimly lit space, his eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching her every move. The android followed its programming — his programming. RM towers over her in the live footage, flawless in his movements, just as planned.

This wasn’t a malfunction.

None of the bugs or glitches she discovered which prevented her project — his project from being completed, were a fine puzzle of silk woven by him. And the more she intertwined, the more she slipped into his trap.

It was his design, his control over both the machine — and now, her.

Leaning back, Jungkook’s smile deepened. She didn’t know.

She wouldn’t know.

a/n : oop. 🫢 what do we think? please don’t hesitate to let me know through your feedback. if you wish, there is also an anonymous feedback box for you! 🥰

[jjjjisun]

Sweat & Desire

Sooyoung X Male OC | 2119 words

TW: Incest

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Request from Discord: Snsd sooyoung with her 21 year old nephew. Her nephew and her went to the gym for a workout, but things go feral when Sooyoung wants a harder workout

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Author's note: I'm still sick :<

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In the heart of a bustling city, nestled between towering skyscrapers, lay our local gym, "Fitness.mode." I'd been frequenting it since I moved in with my mom after my dad's sudden passing. The spacious, echoing arena buzzed with familiar faces and shout-outs between regulars. Yet, my heart hadn't truly been in it until today.

Sooyoung, my mom's younger sister, was a rush of color and energy among the monotonous machines. She'd shown up unannounced, eagerly wanting to join my workout routine. Her laughter filled the space, drawing unwanted eyes. I couldn't blame them; she was gorgeous, all curves and confident. But she was also my aunt, or so I kept reminding myself.

We started on the treadmills side by side, breaths syncing as our muscles warmed up. She kept chattering about the new coffee shop downstairs, her hands animated, grazing mine occasionally. Her fingers were soft, and her laughter infectious. I found myself leaning in, forgetting we were in public.

"Hey, watch it, Speed Racer," she teased, as I nearly collided with her when she suddenly stopped. Our faces were inches apart, her breath minty and warm. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, echoing hers. Then she did something unexpected—she winked, and my world tipped slightly.

Circuit training followed, and shared mats and weights led to near-misses and unintended touches. There was a tension building, electric and undeniable. Her boyfriend, what's-his-name, was far from her mind, or at least, she seemed to want me to think so. Each time our skin brushed, she'd linger, hold my gaze, bite her lip. Was this just our newfound fitness high, or something more?

She "accidentally" dropped the medicine ball in the middle of reps. I reached for it, and she did too, our fingers tangling, breasts pressing together. We froze. Her eyes were pools of brown smoke, drawing me in. Her lips parted, inviting. The world around us blurred. I could smell her, citrus and sweat and something uniquely Sooyoung.

Desire coursed through me, hot and primitive. I wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her till she melted. My cock hardened, throbbing against my gym shorts. She had to feel it pressed against her belly. She must have, because she gasped, her pupils dilating.

"Umm," I ranted out, finally breaking the spell. She laughed, a breathless, hungry sound, and picked up the ball. But her eyes never left mine, promising MORE.

We finished our workout in silence, tingling tension palpable between us. As we walked out, sweat-slicked and breathless, I glanced at her, my aunt, my Sooyoung. And I knew, tonight, we'd ignite.

Sooyoung was waiting for me at the gym entrance, her hair still damp from a post-work shower, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. "I thought we could use the studio tonight," she said, nodding towards the soundproof room reserved for private training sessions. My stomach fluttered. I knew what that room was used for, and it wasn't just push-ups and squats.

"I thought you had plans," I replied, trying to hide my eagerness. Her "plans" were her boyfriend, but we both knew that was a sham.

"I changed them," she smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. "You're more fun anyway." She grabbed my hand, leading me down the familiar hallway. My pulse quickened at her touch, her palm warm and smooth against mine. I could feel the pressure building, the temptation pushing against the boundaries of our relationship. But fuck it, I wanted her. And so did she.

The studio was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. She closed the door behind us, locking it with a decisive click. "Just in case anyone gets any ideas," she murmured, turning to me. Her eyes were hungry, devouring me whole. I couldn't help but smile, my body responding to her, my cock hardening in my workout shorts.

She stepped closer, her breath ragged. "You know, I've been thinking about you," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, neck, and chest. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves through me.

"Me too," I admitted, my voice hoarse with desire. I gripped her hips, pulling her against me. She gasped, feeling my hardness pressed against her stomach. Her eyes darkened, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Fuck, she was killing me.

She reached up, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling my mouth down to hers. Our lips crashed together, a fierce, desperate kiss. Tongues clashed, teeth clicked, and we groaned into each other's mouths. She tasted like mint and desire, and I couldn't get enough.

Her hands sliced under my shirt, nails digging into my back, marking me. I growled, cupping her ass, lifting her against me. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her heat pressing against my cock. Fuck, I needed more. I needed all of her.

I backed her against the mirrored wall, pressing her against it, grinding into her. She moaned, arching her back, pushing her tits against my chest. I trailed my mouth down her neck, biting, sucking, marking her as mine. Her hands fisted in my hair, holding me there, urging me on.

I grabbed the hem of her top, pulling it off smoothly. Her breasts spilled out, glorious and round, straining against the lace of her bra. I captured one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, while my fingers rolled and tugged at the other. She cried out, her head falling back against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps.

I slipped my hand into her shorts, finding her wet and ready. She moaned as my fingers slipped inside her, my thumb rubbing her clit. She was so fucking hot, so fucking ready. I could feel her pulsing around my fingers, her juices coating my hand.

"Fuck, Jae," she gasped, her hips moving in time with my hand. "More. I need more."

I removed my fingers, licking them clean, tasting her sweetness. She watched, her eyes wide and wanton. I unbuttoned my shorts, pushing them down, my cock springing free. She leaned forward, her lips wrapping around me, taking me deep. I groaned, my hands fisting in her hair, guiding her.

But I needed more. I needed to be inside her. I pulled her up, turning her around to face the mirror. She braced her hands against it, looking at me over her shoulder, her eyes fiery. I pushed her shorts down, her ass round and firm. I rubbed my cock against her, coating it with her juices. Then, holding her gaze, I pushed inside.

We both gasped, our eyes locked in the mirror. I gripped her hips, pulling out slowly, then slamming back in. She moaned, meeting my thrusts, pushing back against me. The room filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, our moans and gasps, the scent of sweat and sex.

I reached around, finding her clit, rubbing it in time with my thrusts. She cried out, her body tensing, her inner muscles pulsing around me. "Come for me, Sooyoung," I growled. "Come all over my cock."

And she did, her body shaking, her mind screaming. I thrust into her once, twice more, then groaned, releasing inside her, filling her up.

We stayed like that momentarily, our bodies pressed together, our breathing ragged. In the mirror, I could see the Mark of my mouth on her neck, her breasts heaving, her eyes closed in sated pleasure. She leaned back against me, her body pliant.

"This is a dangerous game we're playing, Sooyoung," I whispered, my lips against her ear.

"I know," she replied, turning her head to kiss me. "But fuck it. I've always loved a good challenge."

And with that, she pushed away from the mirror, ready for round two. I smiled, my body already responding. This night was far from over.

We stumbled into the gym's far corner, away from the late-night stragglers, our bodies still feverish from the studio. Sooyoung's nipples were hard, visible through her sports bra, and her face flushed. She pushed me against the wall, her hands eager, finding the waistband of my compression shorts.

"Fuck, Jae," she breathed, her fingers wrapping around my cock. "I need this. Need you." Her voice was a growl, primal and hungry.

I groaned, my head falling back against the wall, as she sank to her knees. She looked up at me, her brown eyes filled with debris of desire, then leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the bead of pre-cum from my tip. I shuddered, my hands fisting her hair.

"So greedy," I muttered, my voice ragged.

She smirked, opening her mouth wide, taking me in. I groaned, my hips bucking slightly, fucking her mouth. She took me deep, her gag reflex nonexistent, her nose brushing against my groin. Fuck, she was incredible. I could feel my balls tightening, my orgasm building.

Just as I was about to explode, she pulled back, a string of saliva connecting us. She stood, wiping her mouth, smirking. "Not yet," she said, her voice sultry. "I have other plans."

She stepped back, pulling her shorts down, her ass bare, her pussy glistening. She turned around, facing the wall, presenting herself to me. "Fuck me, Jae," she said, her voice ragged. "Hard."

I growled, grabbing her hips, positioning myself at her entrance. I pushed in, hard and fast, making her cry out. She went back against me, her ass slapping against my pelvis. We found our rhythm, our bodies moving in sync, the sound of our flesh slapping together filling the quiet corner of the gym.

"Fuck, Sooyoung," I groaned, my fingers digging into her hips. "You feel so good." She moaned, her inner muscles pulsing around me. I could feel her close, her body tensing, her breathing ragged.

Suddenly, her phone rang, the sound harsh and intrusive. She paused, her body still, her orgasm interrupted. "Ignore it," I gritted out, thrusting into her again. She gasped, her body responding, but her eyes were on the phone, a crease forming between her brows.

She reached for it, her voice breathless as she answered. "Hey, what's up?" I could hear the deep baritone of her boyfriend on the other line, his voice annoyed. She listened, her face losing some of its then lust, her body still impaled on mine.

"Yeah, I'll be home soon," she said, her voice normal but her expression detached. She hung up and turned to me, her eyes filled with turmoil.

"Well, that was a buzzkill," I muttered, pulling out of her. She nodded, her arms wrapping around herself, her body suddenly guarded.

"I need to go," she said, her voice distant. "I'll just...clean up."

She walked away, leaving me standing there, my cock still hard, my brain muddled. I leaned against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, willing my body to cooperate. This game was getting messy, and I wasn't sure I liked it. But fuck, she was addictive, and I wanted more.

As I was about to leave, I saw her. She was bent over, washing her hands in the sink, her shorts still around her ankles. Her ass was a thing of beauty, round and firm, her pussy still glistening with our juices. I couldn't help myself. I walked up behind her, grabbed her hips, and plunged back inside her.

She gasped, her body tensing, then relaxing, accepting me. "Jae, what are you doing?" she moaned, her head falling forward, her hair hiding her face.

"Fucking you," I growled, my hips moving. "Ignoring reality. Just like you wanted."

She moaned, her body responding, her ass pushing back against me. I gripped her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. I licked and bit, marking her, claiming her. She shuddered, her body tensing, her orgasm building again.

I felt mine coming too, my body coiled tight, my breath ragged. "Come for me, Sooyoung," I grunted, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it. "Come all over my cock."

She did, her body shaking, her inner muscles pulsing around me. I thrust into her once, twice more, then groaned, releasing inside her, filling her up, marking her.

We stayed there momentarily, our bodies pressed together, our breathing ragged. Then I pulled out, tucking myself back into my shorts. She stood, turning to face me, her eyes filled with tenderness and regret.

"I should go," she whispered, her voice soft.

I nodded, my heart aching. "Yeah. Me too."

But as we walked away, I knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. And we'd be back here, in this gym, fucking like animals, ignoring the world. Because, fuck, it was good. It was too good to stop now.

[starfruitbats]

I want to learn more about circuitbreaker they're so cute!

Aaaa thank you!!! I’m not sure what you wanna know specifically but here’s a basic rundown!

CircuitBreaker, who more commonly goes by just Circuit, is my fankid OC between Sabotage (my other oc) and Thundercracker!

They use they/them pronouns, and were born at around the mid point of the war.

Circuit is an outlier with electrical capabilities. They can generate and discharge electricity which they use for their scientific endeavors. They specialize in weaponry, ship maintenance, and general machinery.

After the war, Circuit decides to pursue their love for science by boarding the Lost Light and doing an apprenticeship under Perceptor (and by extension Brainstorm). They get plenty of support from their parents, even if they aren’t necessarily keen on them ‘leaving the nest so soon’. Thundercracker would’ve much preferred if they stayed on Cybertron and mentored under someone else, but understands the wanderlust.

They’re blunt, monotone, straight to the point, and can come across as cold. Ironically, despite all this, Circuit is a certified yapper. Mostly talking about their projects. They actually do enjoy people, even if dumb ppl drive them nuts, but because of their general vibe, and being a much younger mech in comparison to others, they don’t tend to have a lot of friends. Circuit tends to be a bit of a stickler for rules, and only tends to sway if there’s something they can benefit from.

Circuit’s electrical outlier ability is used pretty frequently by them, whether it be jumpstarting a generator or using it to power small (rarely large) machinery. Their outlier ability is not without its flaws. It takes a lot of energy, and will result in exhaustion when used execessively. It also creates a pretty strong appetite, making them particularly easily the wavered by snacks. (Their favorite being energon sticks)

Circuit is pretty close with both their parents. Although has some repressed issues with Thundercracker they need to work through. But by nature they’re kind of the opposite of an open book. So the only people who really know about those issues are them and their parents.

Other than that, they’re mostly just a silly scientist on a silly ship.

If there’s anything specific you wanna know feel free to ask!

[inkdrippeddreams]

In Your Corner Part 2

Part One Part Three

Pairing: Adonis Creed x Black! Journalist OC (Athena)

Word Count: Idk maybe like 3.4k (still not proofread, i get so sick reading my own work.)

Warnings: still none :) Maybe again, past mentions of trauma. Slow-ish burn btw, lot of fluff and flirting

Notes: Hi guys! I'm back, and this took me forever because I wanted it to be a certain way, but things are slightly heating up. We're getting somewhere. I wrote Donnie as such a flirt but I like the flirtation from the first Creed with the personality from the 2nd and 3rd. Hope you guys enjoy! Someone please teach me how to make animated dividers please! As always: LMK if you wanna be tagged in part 3🩷

************************************************************************

“And we’ll finish the interview?” Athena breathes, releasing the air that had been sitting in her chest this whole time.

“Yeah, of course—” Adonis leaned forward in his chair, his voice dipping slightly, “as long as you let me interview you too. Might be more fun, easy going.” His smile was so disarming, so boyishly charming, Athena had to remind herself she was a professional woman,  not some flustered fan, she actually hated his sport. Still, her lips twitched, betraying her amusement.

“Uhm, okay,” she replied, trying to sound casual, even as her cheeks betrayed her.

“Matter of fact, let me let Duke know. We’ll go now. There’s a nice spot about a block up, regular American food, we’ll walk.” He stood, the movement smooth, confident, practiced, even with his injured ribs. Athena's eyes followed him, zoning in on the way his arm muscles moved as he walked.

Athena stared, her mouth slightly open, heart knocking against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Adonis grabbed his windbreaker from the coat hanger and turned back to her, eyes raking over her as she hurriedly shoved her computer into her bag. There was a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched her, almost amused.

He laughed, rich and low as she stood, and held the door open as she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked toward him.

“Yo Duke, we’ll be back!” he called.

“Alright Donnie, don’t do nothing stupid,” Duke called back.

“No promises,” Adonis said under his breath with a glance at Athena that made her pulse quicken.

They stepped out into the street, sun warm on their faces. As they walked, their conversation bounced easily between topics, recent buzz in LA, weird weather patterns, and how it was already too hot for comfort and it was only mid april.

“Honestly,” Athena said, wiping a stray curl from her brow, “if it’s this bad now, I’m gonna need a personal ice bath by July.”

“I could help with that,” Adonis retorted and Athena choked at his words.

“No,” Adonis laughed embarrassed, “what I meant was that we offer Ice baths at the gym and if you ever needed one, you could stop by.” Athena realized as Adonis spoke through his laugh how much he talked with his hands and she actually found it quite endearing.

“Right,” Athena responded with a giggle of her own.

“I’ve been alone with a pretty girl for 5 minutes and I’m already embarrassing myself.” 

That stopped her for a beat, but only a beat. Athena laughed and looked down, the heat rising to her stomach as he flirted. They continued on with the walk, quietly as the sun beamed onto their faces.

When they reached the restaurant, Athena finally looked up at the place, and realized she hadn’t even noticed they had already made it. She walked to the door, Adonis behind her. As she reached for the handle his voice stopped her.

“Don’t even think about opening that door girl,” he spoke. He grabbed the door from behind her, making Athena acutely aware of how his muscles flexed under his windbreaker. He was close only for a moment but that didn’t stop his cologne from invading Athena’s senses and making her brain short circuit for a millisecond. Athena breathed, thank God his cologne matched his face.

“Go head,” he spoke softly, waking Athena from her trance. She walked inside, which was decorated oddly similar to the random sports bars in her hometown. The hostess smiled at her and Adonis as he stepped in behind her.

“Hi, Donnie,” a white woman with a slick bun and an all black outfit greeted the two with a soft smile.

“What’s up Kat? How’s little JJ?” Adonis questioned. The woman’s smile grew as she thought of her son.

“He’s good, Donnie. Still working on that straight-right but he’ll get it before the next lesson,” she responded, grabbing two menus from the stand, “Just the two of you?”

Donnie nodded, “Tell him I still gotta spar with him when I’m recovered.” 

The woman laughed as she led them to a back booth, laying out their menus as they sat down, Donnie wincing while holding his ribs.

“This is Athena, by the way, she’s doing an interview with me for an article,” he recovered. Athena smiled at Kat to which she returned it. 

“Athena, you must be special, Donnie’s never taken an interviewer to lunch before,” Kat winked at her, Athena smiled back nervously.

“Well, none of the interviewers have been as pretty as her.” That made Athena’s heart hammer against her ribcage again. She could only manage a giggle as Kat’s smile widened and Adonis smirked at her. 

“I heard that,” Kat said with a laugh, “What can I get you guys to drink?”

“Water for me,” Adonis spoke, clearing his throat.

“I’ll have a water too,” Athena smiled softly at Kat, to which she nodded and left the pair in the booth, promising to bring their waters in a moment.

“I hope you don’t mind being in the back booth, I always ask them to sit me back here in case someone recognizes me,” Adonis announced as he looked through the menu, not hesitating to glance up to gauge her reaction.

“Not at all,” Athena responded softly with something just shy of a smile, “This is the perfect spot to continue the interview. How do you know Kat if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, when I’m not training, I give lessons to her son, JJ. Kat’s husband is blue collar so he’s always working, and since Kat works here she would bring him to work with her. He’s 7 and full of life so Kat would have to chase him around. Me and Duke came up here one day, he recognized me and for a 7 year-old he wasn’t shy at all, came right up to me actually. Started talking about how much he loved boxing. He reminded me of me– in a way. So I told Kat we’d give him lessons, just so she didn’t have to worry about him during the day. When I am training though, I have someone work with him still,” Adonis grinned as he spoke about JJ.

“Boxing lessons have to be expensive though, right?”

“Nah, I don’t make them pay me. JJ, he’s a good kid, and I offered my services. I plan on doing that though when I finally retire though. Start boxing lessons for lower income kids, hopefully, free lessons.”

Athena had never thought of Adonis as being as disarming as he was. He was sweet, charming, handsome, and he cared about his community, which was nothing like the man she thought she was walking into an interview with. Athena knew that this man was dangerous, but as she looked on at him above her menu all he did was smile back at her. When Kat brought their drinks they both mumbled a quiet thank you and decided that drinks were all they needed at the moment. Athena watched as Adonis tapped his straw on the table to open it, before lifting it to his mouth, pulling the straw out of the paper with his teeth.

“I think that’s really sweet, Donnie. Do you mind if I include that in the article?” Athena asked as she opened her straw and took a quiet sip of her water. As Adonis did the same, he gestured with his hand in a way of saying ‘go ahead.” Athena nodded before speaking again, “Should we continue the interview?”

Adonis nodded as he took another sip of his water, “ask away, actually, to make it fun, for every question you ask, I’ll ask you one of my own. That was the deal, right?”

Athena cleared her throat at Adonis’ forwardness. She reached into her bag and grabbed her phone to record and when she looked back up, Adonis was still staring at her. She gave her list a once over, gritting her teeth at the next questions, “You rarely talk about those years before Mary Anne. Is it because you’ve made peace with them — or because you haven’t?”

Adonis folded his hands on the table, “I’d like to think I made peace with them, in general, but there is a lot of stuff from back then that I haven’t confronted that I need to. People know my story, but they don’t know the depth, and I’d like the chance to work out my mess in private, without the world being there to watch,” he studied Athena’s face, “See, your questions aren't too much, I'll just answer them as best I can.” She nodded in response to him. She liked his answer because of how close to home it felt. Reliving her trauma was something she knew she needed to do, but on her own terms.

“My turn to ask a question,” Adonis added, smirk ghosting his lips, “I hear something like a southern accent. Where you from? It’s too smooth to be from L.A.”  Athena had gotten this question more times than she could count since she’d been in California, but this was the first time she didn’t mind answering, if anything she was actually eager to continue to talk to Adonis and based on the way he kept smiling and complimenting her, he was enjoying himself too.

“I’m from Georgia, a really small town in the Athens area, you probably would have never heard of it. I always tell people I’m from where UGA is. I’m surprised you caught the accent, I didn’t think my accent was that thick but– caught me, southern girl born and raised,” Athena grinned thinking of her childhood home, as much as the trauma made her flee, she missed the sweet southern charm of it all, “I went to college in Atlanta though, and lived there for a few years.”

Adonis’ swelled as he listened to her talk about where she was from with so much adoration in her voice. He was so used to talking about himself and performing for a crowd, and even though this was an interview, she made him feel heard, like she was looking at him for who he was, not who he pretended to be. This was a conversation, not just a simple interview. She was something soft, and Donnie could tell why she had such a good repertoire at her job, and why the people she had interviewed prior had loved her. 

“Ive only been down south once, I hear they got the best food though. College in Atlanta, huh?” Donnie grinned as he tapped his finger on the table, “how was that?”

Athena raised a perfectly arched brow at Adonis, “It’s actually my turn to ask another question, sir. You’ve already asked yours.”

Adonis could have shown all 32 teeth at that moment as he raised his hands in surrender. He adored the way she was slowly letting her guard down, and he was willing to keep chipping away at it if it meant she’d smile at him that way again.

“Oh so we’re going to take turns?”

“That’s another question,” Athena drawled, “but yes. Here’s the next question. When people call you privileged now, what is your response and how do you deal with that?”

Donnie hummed at her question, “I mean, no one has ever said anything like that to my face, we know why, obviously. But I know I worked for what I am. I went through some serious training for the last Drago fight, even passed out once or twice, and let them hit me with weighted balls. I think I deserve to be where I am now, and people could call that privileged, but I won’t apologize for finally getting what I deserved years ago.” Athena nodded at him as she swirled her straw in her water with a perfect pink acrylic nail. She placed her elbow on the table, resting her head on her palm.

“Go ahead and ask your question, your turn,” she mused

Donnie tilted his head as if he was deep in thought, “There’s so many I want to ask. But, what’s your story? How did you end up here?”

At his words, Athena’s heart raced. 

“Well, as a little girl, I loved the city and as I grew up, I realized that I loved it because of the contrast of being from a small town,” Athena cleared her throat, “Where I’m from, everyone knows everybody, which means they also know everyone’s story. I couldn’t go in a grocery store without anyone asking me how my grandmother was, or saying something like ‘you Chris’ baby?’ My Daddy was a single parent and raised my brothers and I on his own, and everyone knew, so it always felt weird, I guess. But, In the city, I could be a small fish in a big pond, instead of a big fish in a little one, So when it was time for me to choose a college, I applied out of state, and in-state and chose Georgia State, because they basically paid my way. My dad was upset as a UGA alum, since we live so close, but he supported my dreams, not really happy his only girl was leaving. But GSU, It’s a smaller school I guess, but I blended well, made my friends, got a degree in film, but because those jobs were so few and far between, I started working at a magazine and decided to just stick with entertainment journalism and film analytics, it’s not my dream, but it pays. I got an offer from LimeLight after a really big article went viral about a film that was almost 3 years ago, and I worked my way up pretty fast to be a senior journalist.” Athena finished her story with a shrug. She searched Adonis’ face for any sort of reaction, but when they made eye contact and he opened his mouth to speak with softer eyes, she deterred the conversation immediately.

“Okay so my next question is, As a kid, you were punished for your anger, now that you're celebrated for it, how do you make peace with that contradiction?”

Adonis cleared his throat, snapping back into his regular demeanor. He reached his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“Well, I don’t even know if I would call it a contradiction. The anger I exhibited was because I was hurt, and as a child, you can’t really differentiate the two; it just comes out. What I show now isn’t. I have my moments, sure, everyone does, but boxing to me isn’t about anger, it’s a sport just like everything else, I just leave with a few more bruises. Boxing is about control and power, not hitting the hardest or being the most violent.” Athena thought about it for a moment. She had never looked at boxing as anything other than a brutal display of violence, but the more Donnie spoke about it, she understood why he did it.

“I also wasn’t trying to pity you or anything when I asked,” Donnie’s words snapped her back into reality. She shook her head quickly, but Donnie had more to say. “No, I’m being serious. I know what it’s like to have someone look at you like they feel terrible for you, but your story is very inspirational, Athena. If you love film, I think you should go back to it, especially if it was your dream.”

Suddenly, Athena was really warm, but she didn’t know if it was the temperature in the restaurant or the intense way Donnie was looking at her. She was not interested in revisiting the left-behind dreams she had. She sipped her drink. No, sip is generous, she almost downed the entire thing. She coughed slightly.

“Did you have another question, Adonis?” 

“Are you single?” he stated bluntly. The wind was immediately knocked out of Athena’s stomach. The heat she was feeling before almost doubled in intensity. 

“What do you mean?”

“Are you single? I mean you’re in L.A, you’re a beautiful woman. I take it you are because you agreed to lunch with me–”

"Well, this is an interview.”

“I know that, but you don’t seem like you’d accept a lunch offer just for an interview,” he breathed. Athena stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed. Adonis raised an eyebrow of his own at her, noting the fact that she didn’t immediately deny him. She shifted in her seat as he watched her. 

“Well, no. I’m not dating anyone. I dated a marine back in Atlanta, his name was Terry actually. We broke up because he was having issues with his family in the Carolinas, then he got stationed overseas. We check in on occasion, like birthdays, holidays, but no hard feelings. That was my last relationship, it lasted almost 3 years, after that I went on a few dates but nothing serious. Men in Atlanta are no joke, I stopped dating after someone’s wife showed up to my apartment when he came to pick me up for a date. She cussed me out for sleeping with her husband, mind you this was our first date and we hadn’t even left yet,” Athena rolled her eyes as she answered Donnie’s question, “But there’s your answer, Adonis.”

Adonis laughed at her story as he shook his head, “I like that answer,” he nodded his head, running his tongue over his teeth as he did so. “I’m single too in case you were wondering.” Athena pressed her lips together in a line, heart beating through her shirt. It wouldn’t surprise her if he heard it with how loud it was. 

“Are you always this flirtatious during interviews?”

“Only with pretty ones named Athena,” he retorted, “do you have any more questions?”

“Oh, uhm, I just have one more,” Athena looked down at her notes, “If you could talk to the kid you used to be, what would you tell him now?”

“That’s a good one, Athena. Honestly, I’d tell him that people leaving doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. That just ‘cause someone wasn't there for you… doesn’t mean nobody ever will be. I’d tell him it’s okay to cry sometimes. That being tough doesn’t mean you gotta carry it all alone,” he smiles, a faintly, bittersweet expression on his face, “And I’d tell him… one day, you’re gonna be somebody. Not ‘cause of your name. Not ‘cause you fight. But because you never stopped getting back up.”

He paused after his answer. Silence slips over the two of them, he smiles though, “I think he’d still punch me in the face, though. But he’d listen,” he laughed as he finished his statement. The way he spoke about his younger self tugged at Athena, tugging her in the direction of her own childhood self. Her eyes stung as she took in his answer. 

“That was really well said, Adonis. Thank you for the interview and for your time,” she croaked as she gathered her bearings. She ended her voice memo and began to put her things in her bag.

“Where you going? I still have one more question, ma’am,” Donnie announced. Athena chuckled and shook her head.

“Hit me.”

“Can I see you again?” he stuck his bottom lip out as she stared at him from underneath her lashes.

“This is the only interview we have scheduled, unfortunately,” she spoke, oblivious to his advances.

“No, Athena, see you again, like a date. No interviews, just the two of us. I’d like to see you again, to put it bluntly,” Adonis announced as he slid out of the booth.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea especially since this is my job.” She stood as well, grabbing her purse and slipping it onto her shoulder. Adonis pulled out his wallet and sat a 20 on the table.

“Look, just think about it, okay. Completely on your terms, I’ll give you my number and we can talk. I just want to get to know you more,” he closed the distance between the two, looking down at Athena and with the looks he was giving her, her knees almost gave out completely. It didn’t help that his cologne wrapped around her as she looked up at him. Athena swore he was the top 3 finest men she had ever interacted with in her life. Before Athena could stop herself, she responded.

“I’d like to get to know you more too,” she let out breathily. Adonis grinned down at her.

“Perfect. Let me walk you to your car and I’ll get your number.” She nodded at him, her brain a warped diagram of different thoughts at the moment. He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the restaurant, not before waving goodbye to Kat, promising to see her before the end of the week. Kat had looked at the placement of Donnie’s hand on Athena’s back before laughing to herself and continuing to clean the tables.

Athena wondered what she had gotten herself into with Adonis, but oddly enough, it excited her.

**********************************************************************

Taglist: @jazziejax @5starsativa @hairhattedhooligan @foxybrownsugababe @thickemadame @venusesworld @yornayyy @daughterofapollo-7

[constantinerkives]

PAIRING: Hotel Magnate! Yoo Jimin x College student! Fem reader _____________ WARNINGS: Sugar Mommy AU, college AU, age gap, OC is in her final year of college while YJM is 34, profanity, strangers to paramours, Chopard and Cannes Film Festival Karina, good lord. OC has a slight crush on the dean lmao. OC short-circuits when pretty, older women talk to her. Smut, oral (K receiving), strap-on sex (reader receiving), Dom! Karina, mommy kink, OC ain't a virgin, riding, rough sex, cock-warming, or was it strap-warming? (IDK, but you catch my drift, yeah?), shower sex, multiple sex scenes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of a vibrator, pool sex, biting, marking, fingering, that's pretty much it, I think. _____________ WORDCOUNT: 14.7K Sorry, this was self-indulgent yall, my bad💀🤩 _____________ A/N:

You asked; I shall deliver. Oh - and please see the header for synopsis and turn on your sound hehe.

"Ning Yizhou, what the fuck-"

"Shut up and listen, will you?" She cuts you off with a glare and turns her MacBook screen towards you. "You need this." 

You clamp your mouth shut and allow the younger girl to continue. The ash-blonde girl takes a seat across from you and shows you a site from the internet. You sit before the latter with the pads of your fingers tapping against your thighs. Ningning observes you warily before knotting her fingers together. "After hearing your rants for months about how the school's kicking both your ass and wallet, I propose a solution." 

"By being a sugar baby," You snort. She shoots you a silencing look. "Let me finish, Y/N." 

 She shows you her profile, "This website is safe, and it strictly monitors the chats of both parties. It is consensual and beneficial for person A and person B." She then shows you her chat with her sponsor; the profile read: Uchinaga Giselle. If your memory serves you correctly, she is the managing director of AE Industries, a definition of young, rich, and beautiful. "Woah, your sugar mommy is Giselle?"

Ningning's lips curl to a smirk, "Focus, Y/N. Have you read our conversation?"

"Yes," Your eyes skim the chat, "It's respectful and direct." 

"Exactly," She grins and closes her MacBook. "Not all stories involving a life like this are scary, Y/N." Your friend presses a palm against her chest, "Like me, for example." 

"Yeah, yeah," You sigh and lower your head, "I don't know, Ning." Her features soften as her hand reaches yours, her thumb rubbing comforting circles against the back of your palm. 

"Some sugar mommies or daddies want to fill the void of being rich Y/N. Some want to soothe their overbearing parents, and some just have too much fucking money. They're mature and won't force you to do something you're not comfortable with for the sake of being spoiled in return." 

You contemplated for a moment before curling your lips to a smile. "Fuck it, Ning. I'm in." Your friend grins and opens her MacBook. "Leave your profile to me, Y/N. And pick a dress you'll be using for the ceremony. You need to look fresh for tomorrow." Right. Before this discussion with Ningning, you received an email from Hanyang University that you're a dean's lister for the second semester. 

"Thanks, Ning." You stand from the table and make your way to her room. 

"Y/N!" Minjeong squeals upon seeing your familiar figure as more awardees enter the venue, "I'm relieved! I thought I was going to be alone with strangers for the ceremony." 

"Not anymore," You grin and crane your neck to examine the students on the premises. "Are we the only ones from our block?" 

She follows your example and hums, "Seems like it, and - oh shit, the dean's heading this way!" You snap your head and lock eyes with the dean of your department. An automatic smile curls on your lips as you acknowledge her presence by bowing your head. "Miss Kim, Seol," The older woman greets with her slender digits knotted atop her stomach. 

"Good evening, Miss Bae." You greet in return. Bae Joohyun, professionally known as Irene Bae, is the dean of your department. The woman couldn't be older than forty, fair-skinned, doe-shaped eyes framing sharp, intelligent obsidian-hued pupils, an upturned nose, a small face, and pink, plump lips. The dean is sporting a mint blue suit and white heels, and her long black hair tied in a low ponytail. The older woman's lips curl upward, "I see that it's only the two of you again from your block," She comments while you and Minjeong look at each other, uncertain. "And I'm impressed," Irene adds. You glow under her praise, "Thank you, Miss Bae." 

The latter hums, "Do enjoy the celebration." 

With that, she walks past you and Winter. You caught a whiff of the older woman's scent and let out a blissful sigh as you stagger. "Damn," Winter exhales as her head follows the older woman's slender figure, "If she wasn't the dean, I don't mind being smashed by her." 

"Agree," You giggled as you watched the older woman interact with her faculty. "I guess I have a reason to study my ass off." 

Then your stomach churns uncomfortably as an unpleasant thought voices your concern. 

That is if you have the money to enroll for the final semester.

Blood drains from your body, and your smile drops. "I should find a job that should sustain me." You mutter under your breath as another feminine voice interjects: "Minjeong!" You snap from your reverie and raise your head. You spot Chaewon standing next to Yunjin and Ryujin; gesturing a hand to Winter, who looks at you with a small smile, "I'll hang around with them, yeah?" Her tone indicates permission, and you snort at her. "You don't need to ask for my approval, Winter. Go." 

The latter guffaws and pats your shoulder, "Have a nice evening, Y/N." With that, she leaves to join the group. 

You sigh, and your posture droops as your eyes scour your surroundings. Your vision dims at the sight of extravagance oozing from your peers and faculty. You clench and unclench your hands to calm your racing nerves before the voices behind your head speak up: You don't belong here. 

And you painfully agree. How the hell did you manage to keep up? 

"Excuse me, miss," Your ears perk upon hearing an unfamiliar deep yet feminine voice. Sultry and alluring. "But have you seen Joohyun?"

Joohyun? Your brows furrow. How can someone say the dean's name so casually? 

You turn in the direction of the stranger, and your eyes subtly widen at the sight of the towering beauty behind you. Your eyes take in her appearance. Her long black hair was styled; slid back, allowing you to have a good glimpse at her smooth, fair countenance, familiar doe-shaped eyes framing those sharp, intelligent hazel-colored crevices. You mentally pick your jaw from the floor. 

"Joohyun?" Your voice came out as a squeak, and you fought the urge to palm your face. "You mean our dean?"

A playful grin curls on her plump lips, "Yes," Her hazel-colored eyes scour your features, "And my," She purrs, "Aren't you a beauty?" Your cheeks warmed as the woman continued: "I should count myself lucky for asking a pretty girl like you." A subtle shade of pink dust your cheeks as you clear your throat softly, "Thank you," You muse as you shift your weight from one foot to another. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for-"

"Karina," Your posture straightens upon hearing her authoritative voice. Irene takes a stand beside you. Her face turns in your direction with slight surprise before she regains her calm countenance and returns her gaze to the said stranger: Karina. 

"I see that you've met one of my students," The dean gestures a hand towards the raven-haired beauty. "Y/N, meet my..." She trails off before Karina's lips release a deep chuckle, shivers run down your spine, and your stomach churns at the sound. "Don't be shy now, Hyunnie." 

Hyunnie? 

Karina holds out her hand for you to shake, "I'm Karina Bae, her half-sister. And you are?" 

Half-sister? 

Oh

That explains the familiar features, and if you have to compare the two of them by age, Karina seems to be ten years younger than the older woman next to you. But still, both women are drop-dead gorgeous. They won the battle of genes. 

"Seol Y/N," You reply in a trance as you reach to shake her hand, expecting a handshake, but she surprises you by bringing it up to brush her mouth against your knuckles, a shock traveling up your arm at the contact. Her eyes never leave yours, and you hold your breath, afraid you'll do something embarrassing if you do. Hopefully, your face doesn't show how the action flustered you. You gawk at her as she releases your hand. 

"A pleasure, Y/N." Your body glows at the way her tongue smoothly caresses your name. It's embarrassing how quick you are to succumb to the younger Bae. You instinctively look away from her raving eyes as the dean clears her throat. 

"Easy, Karina." The dean chides, "She's my student," 

A heart-throbbing smile graces Karina's lips, "Anyways," She raises a paper bag. Was she holding something all this time? How come you didn't notice? "As you can see, sister. I just returned from France," The hazel-eyed beauty hands it to her, "And I bought a present." 

You eye the two of them, feeling as though you're intruding on a moment between the siblings. Irene's lips curl upwards and takes the paperbag, "You shouldn't have, Karina. Is that why you came here?"

"Of course," Karina grins, "I can't come back to my alma mater empty-handed now, can I?" 

"Thank you, Karina." 

The latter merely hums in reply, "I'll get going now. There's no need for me to stay if a party lacks drinks." She grins while Irene rolls her eyes. "It's protocol," 

"Sure," Karina turns to you, "Take care, Miss Seol." 

Perhaps she was waiting for you to hold your hand out again, but your brain decided that risking another touch from this gorgeous woman would have undesirable consequences. A wave sufficed for now.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Karina." 

You were wrong. Karina doesn't even have to touch you to get you woozy. Her wolfish smirk was enough to make your knees wobble. She departs, leaving your eyes to follow her lithe physique. 

"I apologize on her behalf," The older Bae announces, and you move your gaze to her. You gulped. "She isn't usually like this. Perhaps staying in Paris rewired her behavior." You shake your head sideways, "It's fine Miss Bae. Have a wonderful evening," You tell her before bowing and departing from the dean. 

Ningning automatically bombards you with her findings while you are at the ceremony. 

"So your account has been receiving DMs," She grins with pride beaming in her delicate features as she slides you a takeout from her favorite fast-food chain, "All you have to do is to go through it with a fine-tooth comb and take your pick." She slides the MacBook in your direction, and your eyes widen at the number of requests. 

"Woah," You mumble, feeling overwhelmed. Your friend catches on and sits next to you. "You don't have to make a choice overnight. You can scour it whenever you're free." 

And that's what you did. 

You spent your lunchtime and break times scouring the site for your potential benefactor. 

For days, no one caught your eye, until a woman popped up on your screen. 

Yoo Jimin

You clicked on her profile, half of her face was hidden, but those plump lips, the lighting, and the prominent collarbones beneath the lapels of her blazer pulled you to dig deeper into her account. You press the photo where she is leaning her back against the gold railing of Hotel Olympia. Jimin was wearing a form-fitting black dress showing off her slender figure. On her hand was a champagne glass and the closest glimpse of her side profile; absolute perfection. You let out a huff and close your eyes to steel your nerves before typing:

Hello

"Ning, what are we doing here?" You inquire the younger girl as she drags you into Givenchy's boutique, the employees eyeing you warily as the latter scrutinizes the boutique before looking at you with a familiar smile.

"We're shopping for your outfit next week," If your face showed surprise, you hid it poorly. You lean close to whisper against Ningning's ear. "In here?"

The ash-blonde shoots you a look. "Duh?"

"It's expensive!"

"It's fine-"

"What can I do for you ladies?" Ningning turns to the employee and smiles, "I made an appointment three hours ago under Giselle Uchinaga's name." The older woman hums as your friend continues, "Send us your best attires for a date night for my friend-" She gestures a hand towards you, "What's your size?"

You gawk at her as the employee looks at you expectantly, "Uhm-"

"Tell her," Ningning commands, the look on her face gave no heed to protests.

You blurt out your size, and the lady nods and turns to your friend, "We'll look for her size. In the meantime do enjoy the private suite located to the left corner of our store." She gestures an open palm to one of the five private booths. Ningning seemed pleased by the suggestion and thanked the woman before grasping your wrist and dragging you to your assigned booth.

"Yizhou-"

"If you're worried about paying back, don't worry about it." She cuts you off as she grabs one of Givenchy's brochures presented on the table. "Besides," She tears her gaze from the material, "You need to look presentable for your meeting with your sugar mommy."

You purse your lips. After interacting with your benefactor for two days, you finally agreed to meet to discuss the nature of your relationship with her. She gave you the freedom to dress in whatever clothing you want, so long as you'll style it with a white scarf. That way, she'd be able to identify you and not cause any misunderstanding. Ningning pats a spot next to her on the velvet couch, "Be comfortable, Y/N. I'm here."

"This is new territory to me, Nings." You confess while rubbing your nape. The younger girl's expression softens as you sit next to her. The ash-blonde-haired girl drapes a slender arm around your shoulders. "You don't have to pay me back, Y/N." She tells you solemnly, "I take pleasure in knowing that you'll look good in your first meeting because I was there to ensure that you'll give a good impression. Now don't worry about the price tags. Gigi is aware and is willing to extend her generosity because she knows I'm friends with you, and we've been together through thick and thin."

"Gigi?" You teased with a smile, and she winked at you. Before she can say anything else, there's a knock on the double doors.

You fix your posture as your friend tells them to come in.

On cue, three women entered the room. Two of them were delicately guiding the cloth rack inside while one pushed a tray of shoes, bags, and accessories. Your jaw slacks at the collection.

"These are our finest collections," One of them declares with a smile, "Feel free to choose which ones you like." Without another word, they exit the booth, leaving you and your friend alone. "Okay," Ningning stands from her couch and approaches the dresses and takes one that caught her eye, and presents it to you. "Try this one first."

After trying on different types of attires for an excruciating hour, you found a dress you and Ningning agree on.

"Finally!" She grins as she circles you, inspecting the dress. You stare at your reflection, unable to recognize the lady in the mirror. It's a black, leather one-shoulder draped dress; it hugs your body perfectly. "It goes well when your hair is down." She notes and looks at the shoes, "Okay. Let's try shoes."

Unlike the dresses, the shoes were easier to match with your dress: Voyou slingbacks, or just quintessential black leather heels. The same goes for the small pouch just for your phone and cash to take you to Hotel Olympia, the destination of your first meeting.

"Perfect," Ningning awes, "This will be your look for your meeting." She locks eyes with your reflection, "Do you like it?"

"Yes," You breathe, and she claps her hands in delight. "We're taking it." The latter then eyes at the accessories, "One last!" She snatches a white silk twill scarf with beveled ends and styles it around your neck.

Now you don't recognize the girl in the mirror. You eye her with awe as you run a free hand from the top of your neck; down to your chest. The reflection inclines her head to the side.

You are going to be this girl next week, and you can only hope that your attire alone can coax your potential benefactor to sponsor you.

The ride from Hanyang University to Hotel Olympia is twenty minutes. 

Upon entering the hotel, the biting chill nips your skin, eliciting a shudder from you, and with your free hand, you rub your bare arm. No one seems to mind your presence. 

"Should've brought a jacket," You shudder, and a voice behind your head interjects:

But as if any of your jackets can match your attire. 

A snort leaves your lips as you scour the lobby of the hotel. 

Hotel Olympia is the largest hotel group in all of Korea with Lotte trailing behind them. Your eyes scour the area for the front desk and lock eyes with the hotel receptionist. With a smile, you approach the employee. 

"Good evening, miss." She greets, "Is there anything you need?"

"Yes," You clear your throat to steel your nerves while your feet tap against the polished marble floors. "Can you point me to Bicena Olympia?"

She fixes her posture and gestures a palm towards one of the double doors to your left. "Through that door." You follow the direction of her hand and bow at the older woman, "Thank you." Shuddering, you enter Bicena Olympia: the restaurant of Hotel Olympia: white, clean walls, cloud-like chandeliers, polished saddle-brown floorboards, and elegant yet comfortable furniture; to add life to the restaurant: it's decorated with carefully selected plants and priceless paintings. Guests from all over the country fill the walls of the restaurant with hushed chatter, laughter, the cluttering of utensils, and the clinking of champagne glasses. 

"Excuse me, miss." One of the restaurant's staff approaches you. A man, no older than twenty-five, sporting a neatly pressed suit. His hair: gelled and slid back. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, yes - for Miss Yoo." 

The gentleman nods, and folds his hands behind his back, "Follow me." He turns and strides toward one of the vacant tables - you follow behind him as he pulls out a seat for you. "Thank you," You tell the man before he bows and returns to his podium. 

According to Jimin, she'll be joining you shortly. She's caught up in a meeting. You take this opportunity to fix your appearance via your phone's camera. 

From the entrance of Bicena Olympia, there emerged a woman no older than thirty-four, wearing a black long Cady dress with a plunging neckline, exposing the valley of her breast down to an inch above her navel and white heels. Her hair is styled straight and loose, and at the base of her neck lay a single gold chain necklace, emphasizing her prominent collarbones. Her right hand secures a shoulder bag, while the other, a neatly pressed, double-breasted tailored coat with red lapels.

Her hazel-colored eyes scour the restaurant, looking for a college girl with a white scarf. 

Your nails tap against the tablecloth as you wait patiently for your date, ignoring the biting chill that keeps brushing against your skin. You felt a presence behind you, wondering if it's a waiter you crane your neck - only to be stopped when you feel someone draping a thick piece of cloth over your shoulders. Hands grasping your shoulders delicately. 

"Oh-"

"Thank you for waiting, darling." Your skin tingles as you look up, pupils dilating, jaw-slacking as a familiar woman with hazel-colored eyes locks with yours; they light up with mirth as her plump, red lips curl to a bemused smile. 

"You," You breathe, inhaling her subtle but expensive perfume. The scent is so intoxicating and warm. With notes of coffee, white flowers, and vanilla, it's the perfect mix of sexy and sweet. It suits her. 

"Good evening to you too, Miss Seol." Karina chuckles deeply. Your stomach twinges blissfully at the sound as you shift beneath her intense gaze. Oh, wait - she remembers your name? Oh, lord. 

"Good evening, Karina." You stammer as one of her hands plays with your scarf. She hums absentmindedly and takes a seat across from you and as she did, your eyes shamelessly follow her graceful physique. 

Holy shit, she looks hot-

"This is a pleasant surprise," Karina starts as she knots her fingers together and shoots you a playful smile. Your cheeks dust pink. "I didn't expect to see Joohyun's pretty student so soon." 

And you didn't expect to have your potential benefactor as your dean's half-sister, either. Shit. 

"And I you, Yoo Jimin." You counter and mirror her smile. The older woman guffaws, but you didn't miss her eyes wandering from your face to your attire, and your skin tingles at her attention. "You look wonderful, Y/N." She puts her bag to the side of the table. "Are you hungry?"

Your stomach growls, and your cheeks flush as you sheepishly rub the back of your neck. "Yes - I'm hungry." 

A knowing smile graces the older girl's lips as she directs her gaze to the person behind you and nods. "Dinner's on me, Y/N. Order what you like."

A waiter immediately comes to her and distributes the menu. Karina swiftly opens it, her hazel eyes scouring her options before looking up at the waiter. "I'll take a steakhouse-style ribeye." She shifts her gaze toward you, "And for the lady?"

Your lips swiftly moved the meal that Ningning suggested for you to order:

"I'll take the balsamic-and-rosemary-marinated florentine steak." An approving look dances on the older woman's face as the waiter jots it. "How about your drinks?"

Karina looks at you, beckoning you to order first. 

"A cranberry mocktail," The waiter nods and turns his attention to the other woman, "And as for you, President Bae?"

Hold on a minute - president?

"A Sauvignon Blanc," A grin breaks from the waiter's lips, "Excellent choice, President Bae." He takes a step back. "I'll come back with your orders in approximately 40 minutes." Without another word, the man bows and strides away from your table. 

"President?" You muse as a smirk creeps on the latter's lips. "Surprise, surprise." Karina picks up her empty wine glass and examines it. You watch her intently. "I'm sure you have questions." Her eyes suddenly dart back to you, and your skin crawls. "Ask ahead, darling." 

You purse your lips, "The waiter called you president," You tread carefully, "Are you, by chance, the president of Hotel Olympia?"

"Clever girl," She purrs, and you shrink in your seat, "Yes, Y/N. I'm the president of Hotel Olympia." Damn.

She gestures for you to ask again. You clear your throat, "The name you used in your account, why use Yoo Jimin?"

Karina hums, "Yoo Jimin was the name my mother initially thought of before Irene's father changed it. They still let me keep it for casual occasions that aren't related to business." 

Your lips form to an 'o' as Karina leans close, "Is that all?"

"Yes," 

"If that's the case," She puts down her empty wine glass, "What about you, Y/N?"

A playful smile tugs your lips, "What do you want to know?"

"Your information, likes, dislikes." 

You followed through with her request, telling her everything she has to know, and the woman paid attention to every word you said. And it feels odd having someone like her listen to a girl of your caliber. 

"-I'll sponsor you," She finalizes. 

You gape at her, "Really?"

"Of course, princess." You nearly threw yourself out of the chair as your hands gripped your purse as she continued: 

"You're a catch, Y/N." She admits with honesty brewing in her eyes, "And something tells me that you're someone who must be kept at high maintenance. And I'm here for it. You chose me out of all the women out there, and you chose well." 

Your face warms at her praise as Karina leans close, "So, pretty girl, will you be mine to spoil in return for your time?"

And who are you to deny her?

"Yes," You breathily answer, and the older woman approves with a wolfish grin. "Perfect,"

And speaking of perfect- 

"Excuse me, President Bae." The waiter returns with a tray of your ordered steaks. The older woman leans back, giving them space as they distribute your meal and your drinks. Setting it down on the table, he straightened up, but not without opening the wine and pouring it into her wine glass. 

"Do enjoy your meal," 

"Wait," Karina held up her hand, halting the server before reaching into her bag. Sliding a small roll of bills out, he pulled at least five of them free to hand over. "Thank you, President Bae." Judging by the way his smile brightened, it must've been an enormous amount as the server bows deeply before leaving.

Karina snaps you back to reality by motioning to your plate. "Dig in, sweetheart, and if you want to eat anything else, speak up - it's all on me." She grins as she picks up her glass by the stem and swirls it. You watch as the liquid sloshes while the woman inhales her wine before taking light sips and releasing a sigh of contentment. Noticing your stare, she snaps her gaze to yours. You quickly look away with pink dusting your cheeks, and the older woman's lips curl to a smirk. "Say, do you have plans this weekend?"

You bring your attention back to her, recounting your plans and finding none. 

"No, I don't have plans this weekend, Karina." You blink, "May I ask why?"

"You'll see," The raven-haired beauty grins, "Enjoy your dinner, Y/N." 

Your jaw slacks upon stopping before the boutique of Patek Philippe. Karina stands beside you and puts her hand on the small area of your back. Despite her coat hanging on your shoulders, a mild shiver runs down your spine. "Come, Y/N." She beckons gently as she leads you inside the boutique. 

You stand there while the retail clerk and your benefactor talk, unsure of what to contribute to their discussion, and finally, the sales clerk gestures a hand towards the three models displayed inside a glass casing. 

"There are only three of them in the world," She proudly begins, "And it just so happens that our branch won all three of them in the auction, President Bae." Karina turns to you with a kind smile, "Pick whatever you want, sweetheart." 

The sales clerk expectantly looks at you. You snap your head to the display of watches before looking back at Karina, "Is this okay with you?"

"Consider this a sign of our beneficial partnership, darling." She goes behind you. Your breath hitches as her snake past the coat and traverses to your waist, delicate yet firm as she presses her front against your back. Karina drops her voice an octave lower, sending goosebumps trailing in her wake as she husks: 

"So choose," 

Fuck, you bite your lower lip, trying to focus while the older woman's hands rest on your hips, gently squeezing them. 

 "That one," You stammer as you point to the two-toned watch. The older woman smirks from behind as she moves to the side, leaving your back cold and aching for her warmth. "Excellent choice, miss." The sales clerk grins before shifting her gaze to your benefactor. "I'll just prepare some paperwork, and then she can wear it." 

It didn't take long for the transaction to be processed. By the time the three of you reached the counter, Karina pulled out her wallet. You watch, as her well-manicured hand gracefully takes out a JP Morgan Reserve credit card made of laser-etched palladium and gold and hands it to the register. Seconds later, Karina's sitting while the retail clerk assists you with the watch. 

"There you go," The clerk beams while you study the accessory. 

Patek Philippe reinterprets the design of its most complicated wristwatch by offering it for the first time in a "two-tone" version combining white gold and rose gold, along with brown opaline dials. The watch is accompanied by white gold cufflinks featuring a brown opaline center adorned with a hand-guilloched hobnail pattern and a rose gold Calatrava cross. 

It's beautiful, elegant, and practical. 

"What do you think, Y/N?" You turn to the latter and smile warmly at her with gratitude swimming in your eyes. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Karina."

The wealthy woman returns your smile and stands up. She holds out her arm for you, beckoning for you to intertwine your hand on her arm, and you happily indulge her as she leads you to the exit with the clerk trailing behind and bowing as you two leave the store. You examine the watch again with a small smile dancing on your lips. 

"Beautiful," Karina praises, and you tear your eyes from your watch and lock eyes with the hazel-eyed beauty. "Yeah, it is beautiful."

"I mean you," She grins, and your cheeks warmed. "But yes, I agree the watch is beautiful." 

Bemused, you asked her: "Are you this flirty with someone you just met?"

The older woman shakes her head sideways, "No, pretty girl." You freeze as she reaches to brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "I meant what I said." 

Eyes wide like a dear caught in headlights, your face flushes, and you clear your throat as you step back. Karina smirks, amused by your reaction, before looking at her wristwatch. 

"Oh, my," She returns her gaze to you. "Didn't you say that the university dorm closes at 10 PM?"

"Yes," Your stomach drops as you instinctively look at the time. 

9:35 PM

"Shit," You mutter under your breath. 

"I'll drive you there," She chimes as she reaches for her bag. "I'll call my secretary." 

Before you can say anything, she already has her secretary on the line. 

"Yes, we'll drive her back to Hanyang University." Karina turns to you, "It isn't safe for her to return there alone. Yes, we'll meet by the entrance of the hotel, have the car ready." With that, she ends the call and turns to you, and raises her arm, as if to escort you. "Come, Y/N. Our ride awaits." 

Elated, you intertwine your arm with hers as she leads you to the entrance of the Hotel Olympia's building, where a sleek black Rolls-Royce car is waiting with a short-haired brunette no older than twenty-seven leaning against the passenger door. 

"Good evening, Miss Bae." The secretary turns her head to you and regards you with a bow. "Miss Seol." 

Karina opens the passenger door for you. "Let's go, darling."

Twenty-three minutes later, Karina's car parked near the entrance of the university dorm. 

"Thanks again, Karina." You bashfully tell her as you take the coat off your shoulders and hand it back to her. The older woman takes it with a smile while her secretary focuses her eyes in front. And just before you open the door, your eyes widen as your body numbs as you turn to her, Karina tilts her head, her gorgeous face contorts with curiosity. "What is it, darling? Did you forget something?"

"No," You clear your throat, "No. I forgot to ask this earlier, but, what about your sister?"

She quirks a brow, bemused. "What about her, sweetheart?"

"What if she finds out?"

The older woman exhales softly and scooches next to you as she puts her hand behind your back. A mild shiver couldn’t help but run down your spine, thanks to her fingertips gliding along your exposed skin. You almost forgot that your dress was semi-backless. 

"I'll still sponsor you, darling." Her lips curl upward, "Our arrangement doesn't concern her. We're consenting adults aren't we?"

You nod in agreement and she pats your back gently, "Good. Oh, and before I forget, send me your bank account and other apps you use for monetary transactions in the morning, yeah?"

"I will," A grin escapes your lips as she retracts her hand, and you open the passenger door, but before closing it, Karina calls out to you. 

"Oh, and Y/N?"

"Yes?" You breathe as she leans close enough for you to see her lashes, "Have a nice evening. I had fun." 

"You too," You lean away, "I had fun too." When you finally close the door, you turn away from the vehicle and stride toward your dorm with a smile that is raised on its own on your lips. 

You curse as your phone pings with notifications of Karina sending you $50,000. 

"Woah," Ningning grins as she leans away with you as more students file through the lecture hall. "Told you it worked like a charm!" You mirror her grin as she playfully swats your arm and drops her voice to a whisper. "So, who is she?"

You drop your head, "The Hotel Magnate of Hotel Olympia." 

The latter's jaw slacked, "Karina?" She blinks, "As in Karina Bae? The half-sister of our dean?"

"Hush!" 

She gasps, "Holy shit, Y/N. What if her sister finds out?"

You rest the side of your face against your palm while the other hand toys with your pen. "She said she'll still sponsor me," A small smile curves your lips as you look at Ningning as you repeat Karina's words from last night: 

"Our arrangement doesn't concern her. We're consenting adults, aren't we?"

The latter hums as she takes out her MacBook, "So are you guys exclusive or?" Your brows furrowed. Come to think of it...you look down at your watch. "I don't know. I didn't specify." The ash-blonde-haired girl hums, "It's safe to assume that you are unless you clarify it." She boots up her device and frowns as your peer's chatter amplifies. 

"Professor Jung is late." 

Your brows raise as you turn to the vacant teacher's table, "That's a first." 

Ningning shrugs, "Doesn't matter. We have free time - wanna grab a coffee-"

"Settle down students!" An authoritative voice booms inside the lecture hall, immediately silencing them. Your body bristles as the dean's slender figure enters the classroom sporting a matching black pleat short jacket and slit skirt that reaches below her knees and black heels. 

"Holy shit," Ningning snickers as she turns to look at you while the dean puts her clicker atop the desk. "Since Professor Jung is dealing with a personal emergency, I will teach in his stead." She raises her head, and your eyes lock with hers for a brief moment. 

Your posture stiffens as she turns her body towards you, "Miss Seol, tell me, what was your last discussion with Mr. Jung?" 

Your friend nudges her elbow against yours. You shoot her a look before standing up while she hides her smile as you inform Irene of your last discussion with the professor. 

"Very well," She turns and clicks on the projector, "Thank you, Miss Seol. Be seated."

An inaudible sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sit down. Your friend leans close to you with a shit-eating grin as she whispers:

"Chill, Y/N, you look like a sinner sweating inside a church." 

You nudge her side and hiss quietly at her: "Shut up." she just stuck her tongue out to you and you roll your eyes at her in response as the dean's voice fills the lecture hall, continuing Professor Jung's lesson.

Thirty minutes in, and your phone vibrates inside your pocket. You sneakily take a peek to see who it was: 

Karina

And she was asking if you want to have lunch with her if you're not busy. 

You're not

You fought the urge to smile as you reply with yes. 

She'll pick you up ten minutes after your class with the dean. 

"Gigi invited me to have lunch with her," Ningning says as she gathers her things. "That means you have to find a replacement for me as your lunch buddy."

"It's fine," You tell her as you pack your things and sling them over your new bag. "Karina invited me to have lunch with her too."

"Nice," The latter grins. "So, see you after lunch?"

"See you after lunch."

"Oh," She snaps her head back to you. "Don't forget to ask if your arrangement is exclusive or not!"

A chuckle rumbles in your chest, "I will." And you make your separate ways. 

"Your sister will see you," You mused as you approach the older woman who was leaning against her Bentley. 

Karina pushed her Hugo sunglasses to her hair, giving her luscious locks a slid-back look. The raven-haired woman was wearing a black brushed ribbed-knit top with matching tailored sailor pants and boots. The fit complimented her lithe body. On the base of her neck is a golden chain necklace. 

The older woman grins as you stand a few feet away from her. "You make it sound like I'm your paramour." 

A small smile dances on your lips, "You just got off from work?"

"It's a slow day today at the office," Her hazel-colored eyes run down your body, "And I see that you got yourself a new look." 

You look down at your attire: white, monogram Jacquard cropped jeans, a plain white shirt, and ankle boots, all from Loius Vui, just like the attire of Karina. 

"Needed a fresh look," You tell her as you check out your attire. "You like it?"

"It suits you," She smiled before opening the passenger door for you. "Shall we get lunch?"

 "Well, isn't this a surprise," Karina mused while you and Ningning gaped at each other with her arm draped around who you presume is her benefactor: Giselle who's wearing a two-piece red suit and black heels. 

"Karina," Giselle regards before looking at you and smiling, "Y/N." 

Your benefactor turns to you, surprised. "You know each other?" 

"We're friends," Ningning interjects, "I'm roommates with Y/N. Giselle knows her through me." 

"I see," 

"Be seeing you two," The conglomerate looks at her sugar baby, "Let's go to our table." Before separating, Ningning sends you a wave while Karina leads you to your designated table with her hand pressed against the small area of your back. 

"Here you go, darling." She pulls out a seat for you before sitting across from you. "Order what you like. It's on me." She winks before a waiter comes and distributes the menu. 

"So," You clear your throat as soon as you say your orders to the waiter. Karina inclines her head to the side, waiting for you to continue. "Are we exclusive?"

The raven-haired woman arched a brow, and her expression hardens. "Do you plan on cheating on me if I say no?"

"What," You sputter as your arms frantically wave as if saying no. "No, I mean - I was just clarifying-"

"Yes," Karina's features soften with mirth, "Yes, darling. We're exclusive, so relax." 

"Oh," Your cheeks flush. 

"Why? Are you seeing someone?"

"No," You squeak. Your face burns as you clear your throat and straighten your posture as you repeat your answer: "No." 

"Very well," She toys with her utensils, and a wolfish smirk plays on her plump lips. "Has anyone told you that you look cute when you're flustered?"

Your face flushes, "No," 

"Then I'm the first," After some time, she drove you back to Hanyang University fifteen minutes before your next class begins.

"Thanks for the lunch," You tell the older woman as she brings you to the other entrance of the University. The latter hums, "My pleasure," Karina then clicks her tongue, "And Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"A little bird told me that you guys have a year-end party next week," Karina begins, "And that you'll have a three-day vacation after that due to the preparations for your university week, correct?"

"Yes," You confirm as you shift your weight on your other foot. "Why's that?"

The hazel-eyed beauty tilts her head sideways, "I was wondering if you'd like to spend those days with me in Japan. I have a business convention in one of my hotels in Tokyo." She tells you with her arms folded behind her back. 

A vacation with a drop-dead gorgeous woman? How could you say no to her when she's asking you so nicely?

"I'd love to," You beam at her, and her features glow. 

"Wonderful. You have plenty of time to prepare until then..." She trails off as she approaches you and takes your hand. 

You incline your head to the side, watching her with intent before your eyes widen, your cheeks dust pink, and your skin tingles as she presses her lips against the knuckles of your fingers. 

"Be seeing you," Karina whispers as she lets go. But before you enter the main building, your sugar mommy calls out your name.

"Yes?"

"Call me 'Jimin' next time we meet," She graces you with an award-winning smile. "'Karina' sounds cold coming from you, darling. So call me Jimin instead."

"Okay then, Jimin."

With that, you enter the main building.

"Woah," Ningning snorts, "She invited you to a business convention with her in Tokyo?"

You hum as you browse through a fine selection of clothing. 

"In Tokyo?" Your friend repeats, and you give her a look, "Yeah? What about it?"

"Oh, nothing," She leans against the pillar and smirks, "It's just that you two seem to hit it off, I guess." You spare a glance at her, "Why? Did Aeri invite you to a vacation with her?"

"Yep," 

A snort leaves your nostrils, "Then that makes two of us." 

"Yeah," She concedes with a sigh as she begins to look for her new clothes. "You're right. What was the theme of our year-end party again?"

"Las Vegas-esque," You click your tongue, "I don't know, as long as we dress like the people attending casinos, we're fine." 

"So, we're supposed to dress like sluts, then?"

You and Ningning snap your heads at each other before letting out a laugh. "No!" You rebutted, "We're supposed to dress like new money or something." 

"Oh," She bobs her head, "Right."

"If you want to look like someone who goes to a casino," A steely, feminine voice interjects. You and Ningning straighten your backs as you slowly turn around to face Irene Bae, the dean of your college department. 

"I suggest you wear semi-formal attire." She turns her gaze to your friend. "And not dress inappropriately, Miss Ning Yizhou." 

"Good afternoon, Miss Bae." You and your friend say in unison as you bow to her. "At ease, ladies." 

"Sorry about that, Miss Bae." The ash-blonde hair sheepishly remarks before the dean softens her sharp features with a small smile. "I see that you've already chosen your attire, Ningning." She moves her head in your direction, causing you to lock eyes with obsidian-hued crevices. Your back feels as if someone brushed a cold hand against your skin. 

"What about you, Miss Seol?"

"Oh," You sputter as you feel small beneath her gaze. "I haven't picked one yet, Miss Bae."

The older woman hums, "If I may," She strides forward. Both you and Ningning instinctively make way for the older woman as she picks an outfit for you: A oversized, double-breasted jacket in vinyl leather and a gold belt. But despite that, you focus on her proximity and how her subtle but expensive perfume fills your nostrils. Intoxicating. 

"Try these," She coaxes, "But this is only my suggestion, Miss Seol." 

You tentatively take it from the latter, "Thank you, Miss Bae." 

"A pleasure," She looks at your watch. You fight the urge to hide it as an approving smile graces her lips. 

"Nice watch, Y/N. No wonder why there's only two of the same model left." She raises her arm and pulls back her sleeve to show you the black variation of the watch. "I have the second-to-the-last model." Irene grins, the sight surprising you. "I suppose that you and I share the same pleasures in life." 

"You and me, both." You agree with a steady smile. The older woman regards you and your friend. "I best be going now. You ladies enjoy." 

"Goodbye, Miss Bae." Ningning bows, and you follow her example. Once she's out of earshot, the latter turns to you with her lips curling upward t a smirk. "So, you're going to try her suggestion?"

You raise the pair before looking back at her. "I think I will. I mean, have you seen the way she dresses?" Your friend agrees, "Alright, try it, and I'll give you my feedback."

"Thanks, Ning." 

"Holy shit - Y/N, is that you?" You snap your head as Yeji's voice fills your ears despite the EDM music blasting over the speakers.

"Yeji!" You return her greeting as she approaches you and Ningning. The older girl wore a white tweed suit and heels. "Geez, girl." The chestnut-haired girl scours you from head to toe, "You look amazing!"

"Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" You counter, and she playfully hits your shoulder, "Yeah - but seriously, you look good."

"Thanks," You wink at her before she pats your shoulder, "I see Lia at the other end of the room. If you wanna drink and hang with us, our table is open." 

"Duly noted," You tell her before she nods her head and then leaves to join her group. While waiting for Ningning to arrive at the party, you mingled with your peers with a mocktail in your hand. Despite it being a year-end party, alcoholic drinks are still prohibited. 

"Finally!" You exasperated upon seeing a familiar face. Ningning rolls her eyes at you as you hand her a drink. "I thought you aren't going to show up." 

"And waste the outfits we bought for this party?" She scoffs, "No fucking way. You look good, by the way. Miss Bae has good taste." 

"I agree," You nudge her by the arm. "Yeji told me I looked amazing earlier, too." The latter cranes her neck, "What is it?" She snaps her attention back to you, "Oh, nothing." Then, Ningning smirks. "It's just that you've gained some attention." 

"The good kind, I hope?" You follow her example; indeed, Ningning's right. You've attracted stares from your peers. 

"Can't blame them though," She shrugs, "You've been wearing pants and trousers for the whole semester. The sight's refreshing." 

A scoff leaves your lips, "I feel like I'm giving the 'ugly duckling' effect." 

"So about your arrangement with Karina," A hum reverberates from your chest, "Did you clarify?"

"Jimin and I are exclusive," You sip your drink, and the beverage smoothly runs down your throat; you sigh. "Speaking of, are you and Aeri exclusive?"

"Yep," She emphasizes the 'P', "Gigi made it clear the moment we first met." 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" 

Ningning stands close to you. Her expression sharpens as she whispers: "Oh no, a man is approaching." 

"Who?" 

"Beats me," She whispers back. "I ain't leaving you." 

"Thanks,"

"Excuse me?"

"Hello," You greet him with a clipped tone as a stranger approaches you. The first thing that strikes you is how strong his perfume smelled. Oh, god.

"You're Y/N, right? From Professor Jung's class?"

"Yes?" 

He grins and takes a step close. You instinctively step back while Ningning observes him with her purse ready. "I was wondering if you girl want to join our table?"

Ha! No, thank you. But your friend spoke on your behalf.

"No thanks," She grabs your arm, "We're okay right where we are." 

"It'll be fun," He tries, and you hide your shudder as your skin prickles under his gaze. Your posture bristles as you drape your arm around Ningning's waist. "No, thank you." 

He is about to say something when another voice chimes in from behind. Cold, steely, and cutting. But vaguely familiar. 

"Are we interrupting something?"

On cue, all three heads snap to no other than the Bae siblings. But your focus is on Karina, whose expression's harsh, and her gaze: piercing, and dare you to say hostile?

"Good evening, Miss Bae," All three bow before the two powerful women, "I'll get going now," The guy sheepishly excuses himself, and your benefactor's face softens, but that was cut short when her haze-colored eyes traverse on your attire - did her eyes just darken?

"Miss Bae, what brings you to the year-end party?" 

"Karina and I just finished discussing matters regarding University Week. She'll help sponsor the program." 

"Oh," Karina's lip curled upward while she ran her eyes up and down your body, sending goosebumps in her wake. "That's right. And my, Y/N. You look ravishing." 

"Thanks," You breathe to calm your nerves as you fought to say her name. Did Irene arch a brow between you and Karina? Or was it just the strobing effect of the lights in the venue? You mentally shake your head sideways as you focus on another fact that the sisters look good - Karina looks good - ravishingly beautiful. The woman wore a soft white double lapel slashed cropped jacket finished with a single button fastening matching a soft white asymmetric mini skirt and platform thigh-high black boots. And to finish off the look, she styled her hair damp and slid it back with Bulgari rings adorning her well-manicured hands. 

"I chose that attire for her," Irene chimes and Karina snaps her attention to her older sister before raising a brow at you. You chose to ignore it. 

"I see," Karina notes absentmindedly, "No wonder I spot a change in style," she adds with a tone you can't decipher. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Yeji's voice interjects before she gets cut off by another voice:

"Oh - they're with the dean-"

"It's fine," Irene raises an open palm, "We'll be on our way." 

Oh...

Karina sends you a coy smile before leaving with her older sister, leaving your eyes to trail after her as they disappear from view. 

"Damn," You whisper while Ningning snickers, "Easy girl, we can't have the floor all slippery with you drooling after her." 

"Oh, shut up." You hiss at her while Yeji and Lia invite you and Ningning to their table. 

"Excuse me, ladies," You announce, "But I need to go to the comfort room." 

"Want me to go with you?"

You held up a hand, "No thanks, I can manage." 

Yeji nods in understanding while Ningning chatters with Yuna. 

The door creaks open as you enter the clean CR to check on your appearance. Not long after, another woman enters the CR, but you didn't bother to raise your head to see until you feel two slender arms snake around your waist, pressing your back against her strong front as her voice fills the room:

"I didn't know that you and my sister saw each other." You hastily turn away from the sink as Jimin's slender figure stands in front of you, your back pressed against the marble sink. 

"Easy, darling." She purrs, "It's me,"

"Jimin," Your breath hitches as the woman before you smirk in delight. 

"I said it once, and I'll say it again," She leans dangerously close to your face. You hold your breath as her perfume fills your nose, "You look ravishing, darling. Exquisite too, if I may," Your hands grip her arms as she continues:

"But the next time you go shopping, call me." Her cold breath fans against the skin of your face. "I'll make time for you." 

Shit, she's too close - you can't think!

You instinctively lean away with your heart ramming harshly against your ribcage, "I will," You fought the urge to slap yourself for the way your voice sounded. "You look beautiful, Jimin. Nice touch on the hair." 

A grin escapes her lips, "I knew that you were attending. I had to dress to impress you, baby." 

"And I am," You tell her breathlessly as she pins you gently against the sink as she moves her head to the side of your face, her breath fans against the outer lobe of your ear, eliciting a shudder from you. 

"But I don't think I can leave you alone tonight, sweetheart. Especially when they have their eyes on you." She moves her head to your neck, her lips brush against your skin, and you bite your lip to prevent an embarrassing sound from coming out. 

"Shall I do something about it?" Your hoarsely suggested, and the older woman chuckles. "You can indulge me, pretty girl." 

A gasp leaves your lips as she pecks the side of your neck. Your skin thrums at the action as your hands shamelessly traverse to her back, flushing her against you, eliciting a dark chuckle from the woman's lips as her other hand goes up to your neck, then at the back of your skull where she takes a handful of your hair and gently pulls it back, your look up at her, eyes dark and glazed.

"I know I have such an effect on you, darling." She rasps, her voice an octave lower. "I'll be blunt, baby. I want you the moment I saw you in Bicena Olympia." 

Your lungs betray you as the latter presses her hips against yours. "Will you grant me this?"

Not trusting your words, you give the simplest form of reply by pecking the corner of her lips. Jimin returns it by locking her plump lips against yours, swallowing your cries of delight before pulling away, her hazel-colored eyes dark, almost abysmal as her sister's. 

"I'm taking you home," She gasps, and you don't have a problem with it. 

Of course, the Hotel Magnate would be staying at the penthouse of her hotel. And that same hotel magnate has her legs spread with you in between. Karina's skirt and boots are haphazardly discarded somewhere on the floor, while your double-breasted blazer jacket is loose. 

Her hair was strewn beautifully all over her pillows a blissful moan leaves the older woman's lips as you lap her juices. Her hand grips your hair, eliciting a hum from you as she rocks her hips against your tongue. Your hands fist the sheets as you flatten your tongue to let her do as she wishes and groan when your nose bumps against her clit. 

"Fuck, keep going, baby." She purrs, "You do me so well - fuck!" She drops her head against her soft pillows; a groan leaves your lips as her walls squeeze your tongue and your hips rut against the mattress, hoping for some friction, but Karina tugs on your hair as a warning. You obey your mistress as your lips traverse from her core to her clit and bite it. The hazel-eyed goddess sighs in satisfaction. 

She's close, by the telltale signs of her fluttering walls, and a surge of wetness touches your tongue, and you didn't hesitate to lap her essence until her thighs shake from overstimulation - that's when you pull away and rest your cheek against your thigh while you squirm as your arousal dampens your underwear - and it's starting to become uncomfortable. 

"Good girl," She praised and caressed the top of your head. "I will reward you." Karina presses a kiss against your forehead. 

"Stay here," She whispers, "I'll get something, okay?"

"Yes," You pant as the latter slips away gracefully, and while she's away for a moment, you inhale her scent in the sheets and sigh blissfully. She smells divine. 

The bathroom door opens, and you look up to see Karina standing - naked, allowing you to see her lithe physique. Her body is carved with perfection. Your eyes travel lower and - your jaw slacks. Trapped to her hips was a strap. 

A double-ended strap. 

Karina's eyes ate you up predatorily as she stalks towards you, but your eyes were focused on the long, thick strap between her legs. You watch, slacked-jawed as she sits on the bed with her back against the headboard. Her hazel-colored eyes glaze with lust as she rakes her eyes at your figure. 

"Strip," She commands, and you didn't need to be told twice as you quickly, haphazardly discard your clothes, leaving them to flood her marble floors. "Good girl," She purrs as her slender hand pats her thigh. "Now come to me." 

You oblige by crawling to her. Your cunt flutters due to exposure as you crawl towards your mistress with hooded eyes, Karina watches you intently as you straddle her strong thighs, hands on her shoulders while the pads of her fingers dance around your hips while her lips press butterfly kisses around the pillar of your neck before going behind your ear:

"Ride me,"

Say less

With a puff of your breath, Karina helps you align your sopping cunt to her faux cock. The latter grunts as you slowly sink into her thick cock. You bounce up and down, pussy rubbing against hers as you dig your nails against Karina's shoulders, hearing the older woman hiss, you loosened your grip, muttering: "Sorry-"

She cuts you off by flushing you against her and thrusting her hips, faces contorting with pleasure, and her lips curl to a wolfish smirk when your lips let out streams of moans. 

"It's okay, baby - oh fuck. Keep doing it. Ride me, harder." 

"Fuck," You mewl as your hips meet her thrusts, your jaw drops into an 'O' shape as your release a particular squeal that has Karina groaning and caresses your ass before she spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth as you hide your head in the crook of her neck while her lips attack your neck by sucking. Walls clenching and throbbing around her, you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down on her thighs. 

"Yeah, just like that." Karina gasps, letting out a guttural moan as the other side of the strap digs against her clit. Karina thrusts her hips upward in motion with yours, fucking you hard and deep that your vision grew irregular as a strange pressure grows on your stomach, your insides pulsing and tingling - you're close.

"Karina," You mewl, and you press yourself harder against her, your position coming off as intimately close. "I'm close - please-"

"Keep going," She growls, pounding into you harder to the point that her thrusts are shallow. Both bodies are covered in a thick sheen of sweat as beads of exertion form on both your foreheads. The smell of perfume and sex permeates in the air accompanied by sinful noises coming from you and the older woman. 

The pressure grows strong inside of you, losing all inhibition as you kiss the older woman - searingly, all-consuming as she swallows your moans. Her arms snake around you, pulling you impossibly closer to her hot body as you come undone with a gnawing urge to say something - call out the title the woman deserves. 

But you refuse at the embarrassing possibility, so instead, you pull away and bite her shoulder, earning you a moan from the older woman as she cums. Both ends of the strap are covered with your juices as her hips stutter. 

Fire consumes your body as you lift your head from her shoulder and gently kiss the mark you left on the woman before resting your head on the crook of her neck, both chests heaving harshly for breath while your mistress brushes a hand against your back. 

You lean away from her, and you're greeted with an equally spent Karina whose lips curl to a satisfied smirk. "Do you want me to clean you up?"

You shook your head sideways, not wanting to leave her arms. 

"Very well," She pecks your lips as she grabs the duvet with her other hand to cover your lower parts without pulling out of you. She adjusted the both of you while her faux cock stays inside you, coaxing a soft moan out of you as she whispers in your ear: 

"Sleep, pretty girl. We have a flight to catch tomorrow."

"I'll take a shower," You said. 

"And I'll join you," Karina said, "It'll be faster." She said.

Well...

The bathroom echoes with your shared moans as the older woman plows into you with utter control as she presses you firmly against the marble wall. 

You don't know how long you two were at it. All you could do was claw Karina's back in pure bliss as water runs down your bodies. 

"Shit," Karina mewls, "Fuck, baby. You're so tight!" She emphasizes by roughly pounding into you as the other end of the dildo rubs against her walls deliciously, causing you to throw your head back against the wall. 

Despite the running water, it doesn't conceal the sounds of obscene activity you and the older woman are doing. 

You cry out and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she hits the spot that makes you see stars. You dig your heels against her ass, forcing her to thrust deeper into you. Her faux cock blissfully rubs against your walls as she fucks you into the wall. 

"Are you close?" She moans when you kiss her Adam's apple before forcing your head against the wall with her other hand. "Answer me, pretty girl." 

"Yes," You whine and clench your walls for good measure. 

Karina's hips stutter before she pistons her hips at a harsh pace that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head with profanities befalling from your lips. 

The older woman watches you with carnal delight as you writhe under her ministrations. 

You look so pliant, so exquisite - hers. 

The hazel-eyed beauty bristles with feverish desire as she combs her damp hair with her free hand, giving her a messy, slid-back look that makes her devastatingly attractive before she puts her hand back on your hips, keeping you still as she bullies your cunt with her cock. 

"Close," You cry out, "Oh - so close-" There's that urge again, and you refuse it by kissing the older woman who returns it with equal energy as you cum so hard it's blinding. 

Your entire body goes slack, and Karina holds you up with her hands caressing your hips slowly. 

"You okay?" She bemused before pecking your bare shoulder. 

"I don't think I can walk," You mumble as you close your eyes. Karina hums and rests her head against your hammering chest. A whimper leaves your lips as Karina shifts her hips with the strap still lodged inside you. Karina coos in your ear encouragingly, rubbing your hips to ease you, and pulls the strap out with a wet squelch. 

"Fuck," You moan as the strap slips out of you. Your beaten walls ring with sensitivity, and you can't tell if it's better or worse now that Karina pulled out. 

"Did I do too much?" She whispers as she holds you securely. Her touch is gentle and soothing as she caresses your back and waist. 

"Maybe?" You cheekily reply, "I was too busy enjoying it to notice." 

This elicits a grin from the older woman as she pecks your lips. "I'll carry you back into the room. We have a flight to catch at 6 PM."

"Thanks," You sigh as you wrap your arms around the latter and flush against her warm body as she brings you to her room. 

The trip to Tokyo was smooth sailing. 

The older woman always had her arm on the small area of your back whenever you go out together, even during her meetings with clients and investors. There's never a dull moment with your sugar mommy. You exit the stores carrying bags of Gucci, YSL, and Loius Vui. Designer brands? You name, you have it!

These shopping sprees paired with dinners at the finest restaurants in the city had you ready to give Karina what she wanted: you. 

Not that you minded. Especially when Karina gives you mind-blowing orgasms; you'd let her do anything to you, even slip a vibrator inside you without any chances of coming undone.

You bite your lower lip to suppress a whine as the device edges you once again. Your hands grip the utensils while Karina talks with one of her loyal clients with a dangerous gleam dancing in her eyes. Your walls clench around the vibrator, your arousal dampening your underwear. You can only hope that it won't stain your dress. Your thighs quiver whenever you move as the vibrator strikes deeper, forcing you to bite into your pasta to prevent an embarrassing moan from leaving your lips. 

Hot and bothered, you shakily reach for a glass of water as Karina turns to look at you, her carnal delight hiding behind the mask of faux curiosity. 

"How about you, darling? Do you like the food Chef Nakamoto made?"

"Yes," You say through gritted teeth as Karina adjusts the dial to 'high'. 

"Well," Sakura, the client, chimes with a warm smile. "I enjoyed the dinner. I'll have my secretary have the documents ready by tomorrow. Thank you, Miss Bae." 

Karina stands up, and you follow her example as you three bow together and head back to her penthouse suite. 

The balcony allows you to have a good view of Tokyo's city lights. Aside from the pool, there's also a canopy bed good for a couple a few feet from the pool. 

You hold on to one of the railings as Karina leads you by the pool while the device vibrates inside you. You grip her hand, garnering the attention of the former as you look at her with pleading eyes. 

"Can I cum, please, Karina?" You begged, "I can't hold it any longer." 

God, begging is so unbecoming.

But the older woman replies with a vile smirk as she raises your hand to her lips. "It entices you, doesn't it?" She sneers, "Being denied over and over again in public." 

"Karina-"

"Easy, princess." She chuckles as you clench your thighs together. "Why don't you join me in the pool tonight, hm? The moon looks nice." 

You swallow hard and nod, not trusting your words as the woman pecks your lips. "Your swimsuit is in the living room, and meet me in the pool once you're dressed."

"Okay," you whisper against her lips before she walks past you. 

With shaky legs, you enter the living room and fetch the swimsuit that lay atop the cushioned settee, and changed in one of Karina's bathrooms with the vibrator still inside you. 

Upon reaching the pool, Karina's already in the pool with her hand securing the stem of her wine glass. The woman is wearing a goddamn revealing swimwear, backless and sexy, giving you a good view of her amazing back view. 

"There you are," She turns around with a smirk. "I thought you took care of your inconvenience in the living room." 

You shake your head sideways while the low hum of the vibrator squelches inside of you. "I could never do that when you can do it better." 

She guffaws and pats the ledge of the pool. "Sit. You've been a good girl." 

You oblige and sit on the ledge of the pool as Karina makes her way to you. The pool sloshes at her movements as she stops before your closed thighs. She places her drink on the ledge before using both hands to pry your thighs apart. You breathe in her scent as she comes closer, glazed hazel eyes watching your faces as one of her fingers moves the rim of your swimwear and underwear, eliciting a soft mewl from you as the pads of her digits play with your slick folds. 

"Look at that," She bemused, "You're so wet." 

And she pulls out the vibrator, eliciting a moan from you as she turns the device off and puts it on the ledger. The older woman kisses the inner area of your thigh before pulling away to sit on the shallow side of the pool. 

"Join me," She coaxes, and you didn't need to be told twice as you drop to the pool, the cold, yet oddly satisfying water soothes you as you swim towards the older woman who has her arms resting on the ledges. She uses one hand to beckon you closer and sit on her lap. 

Your slick rubs against her skin and mixes with the water while you keep your hands to your sides, unsure of the outcome if you allow yourself to touch her. 

Karina inclines her head as she snakes both arms around your waist, pressing you firmly against her lean body. "It's okay," She whispers and assaults your neck with butterfly kisses. "You can touch me, baby." 

A sigh escapes your lips as you play with the ends of her hair while ignoring the throbbing in your core. 

Karina's hand caresses your back, "You've been a good girl, aren't you?" She inhales your scent and sighs. You've been wearing her signature scent for the entirety of the vacation, marking you as hers. 

She pulls you for a soft, sensual kiss. Her lips are plump and warm as it molds and moves against yours. Your hands cling to her nape. Her hands move freely against your straddled figure while your thighs trap her below you. A deep rumble echoes from her chest as your bodies begin to heat up with desire. 

You kiss her until your lungs burned. 

And when you feel your lungs constricting, you pull away with batted breath. 

"Keep up with me, darling." She teased, "I'm going to reward us both." 

Before you can ask, her hand goes down to your pelvis and moves the fabric aside, and thrusts three fingers into you.

You arch against her, moaning in sinful delight for receiving what she had been denying you for hours.

"Fuck!" You mewl as her other hand grabs the back of your hair and pulls it back, leaving your neck open and vulnerable for her as she sucks on every exposed expanse of your skin until it changes to a hue of light pink that'll turn to blue, green and wine-like stains the next morning. 

"So sensitive," She teases, and you clench your walls in retaliation earning a soft gasp from her as more of your slick exits your folds. 

"So drenched," She adds as she deepens her digits, earning her another moan from you as you allow your head to fall on her broad shoulder as she fucks her fingers into you. Your nails dig into her skin as she increases her pace, and the pool sloshes with your ministrations as you roll your hips against her hand. 

It didn't take long for her to rub a spongey area of your walls - your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you come undone unannounced. 

"That's a good girl," Karina praises as she helps you ride your high and gently nips your neck. "I hope you're not too spent yet, darling." She rasps as she licks your jaw, making you whine before pulling away and kissing you gently. 

"Come," Karina helps you get up and situates you on the ledge as she grabs a towel stationed near you and wipes your skin dry before reaching your legs. She parts them, eliciting a mewl from you as she lightly dabs the mess you left in between your legs. 

"Easy, baby." The Hazel-eyed goddess grins, "We're not done yet." Teasingly, she cups your cunt, making your thighs slightly jump at her soaked hand and shooting you a wink when you whined. 

Karina's touches are soft, teasing, and sensual. 

And it's driving you crazy as she helps you slip out of the pool and to the canopy bed. 

She laid you gently against the sheets while she took off her swimsuit and disappeared inside. Minutes later, she comes out with a strap harnessed in between her legs, gesturing for your clothes to be removed.

You clumsily take the swimwear off your skin, leaving it on the floor as the woman joins you. 

Karina perches her knee on top of the soft mattress and crawls toward you like a lioness cornering her prey. The sinews of her muscle showed as she looms above you, her toned arms cage your sides, and her legs caged yous. Unabashed, you look at her lips before raising your head to capture them. You release yourself from the towel and latch onto her back. The black-haired woman moans and presses you against the mattress as she kisses you with an all-consuming passion. Karina's hands glide to your wrist and pin them to the sides of your head as she grinds her faux cock against your seeping cunt. 

Your sugar mommy pulls away and attacks the expanse of your neck with kisses that morph into generous bites. You close your eyes and allow your head to fall on the soft pillows. 

Your hips jut against hers - the older woman bites your collar in return as her arousal drips down her thighs. 

"On your stomach," She commands. You obey.

"Hips up," Karina growls. You obeyed, allowing her to see your swollen cunt that was already dripping with arousal. "Good girl," She purred and slapped your folds, making you cry out as more of your essence dripped down.

The older woman uses your slick to coat her cock before looming above you, her hands trapping you on opposite sides before her right hand moves to your neck, applying pressure, causing you to gasp and jut your hips at her dildo. 

Karina's other hand digs her nails against your neck, making you hiss in both pleasure and pain as she thrusts her entire length. The head easily parts your folds as she glides into you with one swift motion, impaling you entirely with her cock. The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her length. You find yourself screaming in a mix of pain and erotical delight as you claw the sheets and you gasp for air, practically winded by the first thrust. Compared to her fingers, you feel full. Your walls fluttered, pulsing around her as Karina sets a brutal pace.

"Karina," You cry out as her hand leaves your neck and kisses your shoulder. Her hips hit the curvature of your ass. You can feel her abs flex and stiffen at her pace. 

"Y/N," She moans, holding you down by your shoulders as she jackhammers inside you while the bulb presses into her walls. You both feel hot and dripping in sweat as she meets every roll of your hips. Your head falls against the pillows, letting the older woman have her way with you as her lips chase your neck and bite your skin, making you cry out as she spanks you. 

"Mine," She growls against your ear and gently bites it. "You're mine, baby. Do you understand?"

Your cunt clamps vigorously, sweat finally dripping from your temple as lust has finally taken over you, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and Karina's marks. 

Her patience runs thin, and she thrusts harshly, "Answer me, pretty girl. Do you fucking understand?"

Your stomach coils, and your arms shake under her thrusts as she keeps her body close to yours. 

"Yes - mommy." 

Oh shit

You hope she didn't hear you. 

The older woman digs her nails into your hips, pounds becoming more desperate, feral. Her hands grope any skin available for her as her need for release pushes her closer to the edge. 

You aren't far behind her, either.

And she knows this, too. 

The way your stomach coils and twists, toes curling, back arching, and your moans were high-pitched, sobs choked, and your mewls were breathy as she begins to thrust with abandon, you drop your head as you cry out her title, incensed by your wails, her pace inhumanly fast and-

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock brush your g-spot, making your back arch against her front. A vile grin breaks into Karina's lips as she repeatedly aims the spot, making your arms weak and your thighs quiver with every penetrative slam. Moan after moan leaves your lips.

"Are you close?"

"Yes," You whimper with your eyes closed. A broken sob escapes your lips when her teeth dig against your nape, sending shocks of pleasure shooting right through you. 

"Repeat my title, baby." She rasps. 

What?

"Mommy," She clarifies, "Call me mommy when I fuck you." 

So she did hear...

"Are you close?" She repeats. Another broken sob leaves your lips as you replay to her: "Yes, mommy - fuck, I'm so close."

Karina bends down to press a kiss on your marked shoulder before stilling her hips as you cum. Your walls fluttered as the older woman cums too. 

She drops her head against your nape, and her warm breath fans your sensitive skin as her arm wraps gently around yours. Swallowing thickly, she pulls out. 

You let out a frail moan as more of your cum leaks out of your abused cunt. The older woman delicately helps you lay on your back, finally allowing you to see her. 

Karina looks beautiful in the afterglow of sex, her pristine appearance is slightly flushed, and her lips are swollen. 

"Can you do one more for mommy?" She murmurs as she maps your face with light kisses. 

And who are you to deny her? You cup her face and peck her plump lips. "Use me, mommy."

A smirk breaks past her pretty lips. "Hips up," She gently commands. You obey her and raise your hips, wincing at the sore feeling that shoots in your hips. Karina quickly places a pillow underneath your hips as her lips find yours, consuming you again.

Your hands circle her neck as you give in to her kiss, hands gripping themselves on your waist, pressing you hard on her bed as if to keep your scent there, and moaning softly when your tongue breaches into her mouth. 

The older woman grinds her pelvis against yours, smearing your thighs with your juices as her lips latch onto your neck, biting her marks, making you roll your eyes to the back of your skull as shocks of pleasure ripple through you.

Sheer libido sticks in the air as she pushes herself inch by inch. Nails digging against the skin of her back; a breathy mewl breaks past your lips, and the sting of sensitivity ripples through you. Karina hides her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as she further pushes herself deeper, indulging in your moans. 

"Mommy's got you," She coaxes, and her hips begin to move. 

Gasping at the intrusion as she pounds into you with newly-found vigor, your body falls limp, allowing her to use you as she further spreads your legs apart to create more room for her to fuck herself into you, her pace bristling with need. 

"Ah-fuck!" You cry out with ecstasy when she impulsively bites the center of your neck.

Your mistress growls and pulls away with a wolfish grin on her lips as she snaps her lips with need. 

The dark-haired goddess suddenly slows her pace, pulling out until the bulbous head remains, before slamming right back in, and a wanton moan befalls your lips, eyes closing and mouth agape, letting out your sounds of moans of delirium, and Karina is incensed by this and angles her hips in a particular fashion that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, whimpering "Mommy" on the lobe of her ear, driving her insane and increases the power of her thrusts, rutting into you whilst you litter her neck with kisses, all the while leaving red vertical lines on her strong back.

You could practically hear the bed mimicking your trembling legs beneath the older woman as your cunt takes her. The squelching sounds add to the symphony between the two of you. 

The older woman growls and presses you harder, fucking you to her bed, hips snapping back and forth, teeth gritted, beads of sweat rolling down her temple, strands of hair falling to the side of her perfectly sculpted face. 

You pull her close to you, legs trembling as they wrap around her waist, attempting to pull her closer and giving Karina the advantage of pushing her cock deeper inside your weeping walls, hitting your bundle of nerves.

"That's it, baby." The hazel-eyed beauty grunts with effort, her pace merciless, forcing you upward so that she has to wrap her arms around you to keep you in place. 

"You're taking mommy so well." 

Tenderly, she cups your jaw and massages your cheek, startling you as her hips are in contrast to her hand.

"You belong to me now, love." She whimpers as you jut your hips. "Say it, that you belong to me." 

"I belong to you, mommy." You whimpered, causing the woman above you to close her eyes, heart fluttering upon hearing the sound of her title falling perfectly from your lips. "I-I'm close, please, please don't stop."

"I won't," She prompts softly, hitting deeper, the sensation rippling within you overwhelms your body. You're pushed over the edge with a sob as your body racks with pleasure; another orgasm crashes through you like a truck as you fall limply, squirting around her cock. 

But she keeps fucking into you. 

"Mommy," You mewl as you try to pry her off. "Too much," 

"One more," She pants, "Give me one more, love. Can you do that - fuck - for me?"

You can't, your legs feel like lead, your body is already covered with sweat and marks, and your lower region felt like it was about to split in half. But in determination to please your mistress, you nod, with tears welling in your eyes before she moves her hips at a smooth, steady pace. You cry out as the ring of sensitivity and overstimulation shoots in your cunt as she takes you raw, your eyes already spilling with tears as her speed picks up, pulling her closer until your bodies feel like molding together. 

Karina slaps your clit, making you jolt and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

She kisses you feverishly; she swallows your whimpers as she doubles the pace, making your back arch against her front. 

You cry out helplessly as she throws your legs over her shoulder, allowing her to hit much deeper spots within you and running with effort as her pace becomes sloppy, both walls painfully throbbing for release as your broken moans fuel her and the thin line between pain and pleasure blurred as she stuffs you with her cock. 

"More," You panted and clawed her back for leverage. "I'm so close, mommy. So, so close." 

"You like that, hm?" She pants and moans softly when your stomach bulges from her thrusts. "Like it when mommy fucks you senseless? Treat you like a fuckdoll?"

You screamed as her tip kissed your cervix. You tangled your hand around her locks and tugged it harshly, making Karina hiss and speeds to a despearate pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as the tip keeps kissing your cervix, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. 

You latch your lips around her neck, sucking and biting her collarbones, and her hoarse moans fill your ears as you bite her Adam's apple, feeling her stutter in her thrusts and punishing you for it by drilling into you at a bruising pace, your vision hazy, your body heavy, skin covered by a veil of sweat as your hands grab onto her biceps or anything that will anchor you from her frantic pace, the skin on your inner thighs burning from the contact, dragging her fake cock in and out of your quivering folds. 

Small hips jutting in sharp precision that she flaunts whenever she has a chance, she palms your cheeks, tilting your head up for a kiss, tangibly tender and sensual compared to her pace. The older woman kisses you gently while fucking you senselessly. 

The coil in your stomach suddenly snaps with the tension, and then comes the onslaught of immense white-hot ecstasy, curling, and roaring like a beast in your stomach, the pressure between your legs immeasurably high. You clamp around her one last time, vision blackening as she throws you to your orgasm, blinding you until it consumes you whole, and you're shaking ferociously.

Karina bites your shoulder and comes hard with a harsh shudder. You held onto her tightly. Lungs panted for batted breath as she cradles you, prepping her kisses all over your face and brushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear as you tremble in her arms. 

"Sh," She coaxes, "I got you. You did so well." She pressed another kiss on your lips, allowing you to anchor yourself into her. "Hang on, baby. I'll carry you to the bed inside, okay?"

Throat raw from moaning and screaming, you nod, and the woman carries you effortlessly without pulling out. You tighten your arms around her, feeling her against your walls as she carried you inside your private quarters. 

She lay you gently against the bed and gently pulls out from your battered walls, and throws the toy somewhere in the room as she lays beside you, her arms automatically finding yours as she flips you so you can be on top of her while the other hand reaches for the sheets so she can keep you warm. 

"Thank you," You croaked as you rest your head against her chest and inhaled her soft scent. 

Karina returns your gratitude with a soft kiss against your forehead and rubs your back softly, lulling you into sleep. But not without hearing her raspy voice:

"Goodnight, darling. And thank you for indulging me." 

"Here we are," Karina parks the car near the university's main building. You tear your gaze away from the window and towards your provider. 

"Thanks, Karina." You lean and peck her cheek before exiting the car. 

"Wait," The latter calls out and follows after you. The ends of her coat dance in the wind as Karina stands beside you. "I'll escort you there." It wasn't a request, but you didn't mind as you offer to her your hand. Karina smiles brightly, her skin glowing as the golden rays of the sun kiss her face, giving her hazel eyes a bright glow as she takes your hand. You walk together. 

"Are you free after class?" She inquires as your footfalls clack against the pavement. 

For her? 

"Yes," 

"Then I'll pick you up ten minutes after classes, yeah?"

"Sure-"

"And what do we have here?" You freeze while Karina whips her head to the back, where her sister - the dean is standing with her hands on her hips with a perfectly arched brow directed at the both of you, her expression: surprised. 

"Irene," Karina greets with a coy grin as you turn to face her. The Hotel Magnate quickly wraps her arm around your waist, pulling you close to her while you bow respectfully towards your dean. 

"Good morning, Miss Bae." 

"At ease, Miss Seol." 

You straighten your back to see that the dean has her eyes on her sibling, and a small smile graces the older Bae's lips. 

"So, when did you start boning one of my students, sister?"

"That's a long story, Joohyun." She looks at you, "Come on, I'll take you to the building." You eagerly agree with your paramour and bow to the dean again before leaving her standing there. 

"What are we going to do?" You whisper to her, and she sends you a wink. 

"She won't interfere, darling." She peers over her shoulder and smirks before returning her gaze to you and kissing you softly. 

"You're mine. Remember that." Karina breathes against your lips. "And my sister can't do a thing about it." 

Fin

[chaosandcandies]

UNPLUGGED

CHAPTER Ⅺ: Blushing Bin

trope: fem!9th skz member warnings: angst, drama, insecure oc, cyber bullying, slow burn pairings: hyunjinxfem!oc prev|next

SUNLIGHT SPILLED THROUGH THE NARROW SLATS of the dorm blinds, painting pale stripes across the hardwood floor. Somewhere down the hall, the sound of water running in the bathroom echoed faintly, and the kettle clicked on with a low whine.

Iseul hadn’t slept much.

She’d stayed at the kitchen table long after the others had gone to bed, the condensation from the makeshift ice pack dripping onto her sleeve as her thoughts spiralled in quiet, exhausted circles. Eventually, she’d moved to her room—her room—and stared at the ceiling until the blur of night gave way to grey morning.

Now, she stood barefoot in the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up, cradling a mug of lukewarm tea she didn’t remember making. The ache in her hand had dulled to a throb. Still visible. Still there.

Just like her.

She didn’t hear him enter.

Not at first.

It was the clink of a cupboard opening and a soft grunt that caught her attention. She turned slightly, blinked—only to see Changbin reaching up for a mug with one hand and scratching his head with the other, looking like he’d just crawled out of bed. His hoodie was inside-out.

“You’re up early,” he mumbled, not looking at her right away.

“So are you,” she replied, voice soft.

He finally looked over. And froze for a beat.

Eyes dropped to her hand. The bandage. His jaw ticked.

“…You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

Iseul snorted lightly, and that seemed to ease something in him. He poured himself some tea, stood silently across from her at the kitchen counter. The silence wasn’t tense, exactly, but it was full. Too many things unsaid pressing in from the corners.

Then, abruptly—

“I was a dick.”

Iseul blinked.

Changbin kept his gaze fixed on the counter.

“I mean—I was cold. And rude. And—I don’t even know half the stuff I said around you, but I know none of it helped. And I know I made you feel like—like you weren’t welcome here. And that sucks. I suck.” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Like, objectively.”

“Changbin—”

“No, let me finish. I need to get this out before I chicken out or do that thing where I make a joke to deflect.”

Iseul blinked again.

“You didn’t deserve how we treated you,” he said, eyes still fixed somewhere on the countertop. “Especially not me. I thought if I kept my distance, it would hurt less. Like maybe if I didn’t look at you too closely, I wouldn’t have to admit that you were good. That you belonged here. That you—”

She watched him flounder, words tripping over emotion, breath catching a little.

“—that you fucking tried, even when we made it impossible. And I hated that. Because I knew I wouldn’t have been strong enough to stay, if it were me. I knew it. And I hated that too.”

He dragged a hand through his hair.

“I should’ve apologised earlier. I should’ve said something after your hand—I saw you come back, and I kept thinking this is it, this is the moment, and I kept freezing. And now I’m here rambling like an idiot, and you probably think I’m full of—”

“Oppa.”

Changbin’s words hit a wall. He blinked at her.

“…What?”

Iseul's lips curved—just barely. “I said, oppa.”

It hit him like a frying pan.

The way his ears turned red immediately. The way his entire soul paused to reboot. His eyes went wide, like she’d just short-circuited something in his brain.

“Y-You—what—you—why would you do that?!”

“To shut you up,” she said simply, sipping her tea again. “It worked.”

Changbin was still malfunctioning. “You’ve never—I mean—you call Chan and Minho hyung oppa—why me—why now—”

“Because I forgave you,” she said, voice quieter this time. “And you were going to spiral for another five minutes if I didn’t.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Then buried his face in his hands with a muffled, “I hate you so much right now.”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not—”

“You are.”

He groaned like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. “This is what I get for trying to be vulnerable.”

She was smiling now—actually smiling, just a little—and he caught it as he peeked through his fingers.

His heart did something annoying in his chest.

“…You’re mean,” he mumbled.

“You’re dramatic.”

They didn’t say anything for a while after that.

The silence wasn’t awkward now. Just full in a different way—like the dorm was holding its breath around them, the weight of past mistakes balanced by the fragile beginning of something lighter. Sunlight had shifted, crawling up the wall behind Iseul like the morning was trying to make room for them too.

Changbin had finally pulled his hands away from his face, resting his elbows on the counter, cheek squished into one hand. His tea sat untouched. He was watching her—not in the guarded, wary way he used to, but openly now, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Like maybe he was making up for all the times he hadn’t looked.

“You didn’t have to forgive me,” he said eventually, voice low.

Iseul looked down into her mug, watching the ripples move.

“I know,” she said. “I wanted to.”

A breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected that.

She added, “It wasn’t just you. I didn’t make it easy, either. I—I think I was so desperate to prove I belonged that I forgot how to just be a person. I kept pushing myself to be perfect, and then I was mad when no one believed it.”

He was quiet, listening.

“I didn’t even believe it,” she said, so softly it almost wasn’t there. “I still don’t.”

Changbin straightened, his brows pulling together.

“Iseul—”

“I’m not fishing for comfort,” she cut in gently, sensing it. “I just… I wanted to say it. Out loud. So it didn’t eat me up.”

Changbin chewed the inside of his cheek. There were so many things he wanted to say—reassurances, defences, maybe even a joke to lift the heaviness of her words. But she’d asked him not to deflect. Not this time.

So, he leaned forward instead and nudged his mug toward hers. A small clink of ceramic against ceramic.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I think you’re brave as hell.”

Her throat tightened. She tried to laugh, but it came out watery.

“You’re gonna make me cry in the kitchen,” she whispered.

He smiled a little, not teasing. Just soft.

“Then cry in the kitchen. No one’s awake yet.”

That did make her laugh, finally. Quiet and a little shaky, but real.

For a few minutes, the kitchen was silent again, save for the hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of their mugs as they sipped, trying to stretch the warmth a little longer.

Then came the soft pad of footsteps from down the hall.

Iseul didn’t turn, but she heard the telltale sleepy mutterings of Jeongin, and then the light thump of someone walking into the wall. Seungmin’s unmistakable deadpan followed: “That’s not the bathroom, genius.”

Jeongin groaned.

Changbin chuckled, under his breath. “Wanna take bets on how long it takes before one of them walks in and ruins the mood?”

“Two minutes,” Iseul said.

“Generous,” he replied.

And just like that, the moment shifted. But it didn’t disappear. It lingered beneath their words, in the quiet glances and the shared silence.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was a start.

The studio smelled like dust, wires, and too many late nights.

Hyunjin sat cross-legged on the old couch shoved against the back wall, phone in hand, earphones in—but he wasn’t really listening to anything. His gaze kept drifting past the screen to the booth where Iseul stood, her headphones slightly askew, brows knitted in concentration.

Chan leaned over the desk, muttering something to her through the intercom. She nodded once, then lifted her hand to signal she was ready. The beat kicked in—Changbin’s section—and her voice came in soft and sharp, weaving through the verse like she’d owned it from the start.

She was bleeding into the beat—his beat—with a kind of quiet force that shouldn’t have made sense but did. Her tone wasn’t as polished as Chan’s, or as intense as Changbin’s, but it carried a tension, a pull. Like she wasn’t just singing through the pain—she was singing with it.

Hyunjin hated how good it was.

Not because he thought she didn’t deserve it.

But because it made everything more complicated.

She hit the end of the verse, let her voice dip just as the synths began to fade, and stood there in the stillness—waiting, breathing, eyes closed. The silence that followed was the kind that settled in your chest.

The intercom clicked.

“Keep that take,” Chan said, already dragging the file into the session. “Don’t touch a thing.”

She peeled off her headphones and stepped out, blinking against the brighter lights. Her sweatshirt sleeves were bunched at the elbows, hair pulled into a messy knot, neck glistening faintly with sweat—but she looked more alive than Hyunjin had seen her in weeks.

“Nice,” Seungmin said without looking up from his lyric sheet. “Didn’t think you’d make that phrasing work, but you did.”

“Is that a compliment?” Iseul asked.

“Don’t push it.”

Changbin chuckled and moved to high-five her. She hesitated only for a second before meeting his hand with a light slap. The grin that cracked across Changbin’s face was wide, too wide—and Hyunjin felt it like a pebble in his shoe. Small. Irritating. Inescapable.

“You nailed my part better than I do,” Changbin said, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“No, seriously. You actually—” He mimed an explosion with his hands. “—blew my mind.”

“Gross,” Jeongin muttered. “Don’t be weird in the booth.”

Hyunjin forced a smirk, pretending to scroll. But he wasn’t watching his phone anymore. He was watching them.

He didn’t know why it unsettled him so much. Maybe because it was Changbin, the same one who had shut her out for weeks. The same one who used to leave the room when she entered. And now he was—what? Her personal hype-man?

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all.

Maybe it was how easy it looked now. How the wall that used to stand between Iseul and the rest of them—how he used to justify his silence—was crumbling. And she wasn’t angry anymore. She wasn’t waiting for apologies. She was just… letting people in.

Everyone but him.

Chan waved him closer. “Hyunjin, let’s get your lines down before lunch, yeah?”

He stood without replying, sliding his phone into his pocket. As he passed behind Iseul’s chair, she didn’t look up. Didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch.

It was the politest kind of nothing.

And Hyunjin realized—too late—that this was worse than her anger.

This was indifference.

And maybe, somewhere deep down, that was what scared him the most.

TAGLIST: @leewritesstuff, @athens-09xx, @allenajade-ite, @idjdndjzbsdm, @idjdndjzbsdm, @hyuneskkam, @geni-627, @valkirymin, @miminbin, @tillaboo, @dreamerwasfound, @youthsquaredd, @skzstannie, @nchhuhi, @rtyuy1346

STORY HINT: Felix—poor boy—had absolutely no idea how to apologize. Instead of returning Iseul’s “good morning” that day, he sputtered the water in his mouth and bolted straight to the bathroom. Apparently, running away from problems rather than confronting them was a Stray Kids thing.

But guilt gnawed at him all day. After lunch, he spotted Iseul in the hallway, fiddling with her headphones, her gaze distant and lost in thought. He hesitated for a moment, watching her, before his feet betrayed him and started moving on their own.

When he finally mustered up the courage to apologize, he looked like he might burst into tears if Iseul didn’t accept it. And to his relief, she did—calling him a dork with that familiar softness in her voice, the kind of soft spot only she seemed to have for him.

Kinda short chapter but I'm already working on the next one and I'll drop it soon. My vacay will start from tmrw so that means more of me being online hehehe. As always, stay safe! ~candy

[callsign-swan]

Gold

Chapter One

Marigold Winslow. An F1 driver flying through her first season. Rhett Abbott. An ex cowboy turned actor on a media circuit after his biggest role yet.

They weren't supposed to have any extended interaction. They weren't supposed to fall in love. They weren't supposed to make a mess of each others careers.

Rhett Abbott x OC

Chapter Two

Miami. It was hot. Too fucking hot. Sweat clung to her back as she made her way across the paddock, sunglasses covering her eyes. Unlike her fellow drivers, she didn’t wear her team shirt. Ugly, bright orange, with an equally as ugly hat to match.

It was just her first year in the team, just her sixth race. But it had been an incredible five races so far, each one ending with her in the points. Her team was leading the constructors championship, her teammate leading the drivers championship. She was only a couple of points behind him, waiting for him to slip up and take the lead.

Life was pretty good.

She walked into the paddock alone, phone clutched in one hand and bag in the other. For the first two races, she’d worn her team shirt into the paddock. The ugly orange one that didn’t suit her in the slightest. She’d walked in beside her teammate, she and Lando talking and laughing as they went. But then she started wearing her own clothes to races.

Every news article about her wasn’t really about her, calling her a WAG. Worse than that, it called her Lando’s wag.

So, she walked into the paddock alone.

A hand touched her back. Immediately, she stiffened up, readied herself to punch whoever was touching her with the hand holding her phone. “Relax,” said a familiar voice. “It’s just me.”

Carlos Sainz. Before she got her place on the grid, driving alongside his old teammate, Carlos was her celebrity crush. She was never supposed to get this close to him, wasn’t supposed to become friends with him in the month and a bit she had been driving.

But Carlos took her under his wing, in a sense. He had been there before, driving for McLaren, driving alongside Lando. He knew how gruelling and terrible this sport could be, knew how fast a career could go down the drain. He was determined not to let that happen to her.

“First Miami Grand Prix, huh?” Carlos whispered in her ear.

She swallowed as she nodded. “It’s gonna be good,” she said and slipped her phone to the pocket of her jeans. “I’m gonna win it.”

Carlos let himself smile. He pressed his hand more against her back, ignoring the sweat seeping through her shirt. Or maybe he didn’t feel it. But it had her swallowing, her steps becoming faster as she tried to get away from him just a little bit.

All so he couldn’t feel the sweat seeping through her shirt.

Carlos let his hands drop to his sides. “We’ve got celebrities for this one,” he said as he followed her through the paddock.

She rolled her eyes. “Today?” She asked, placing her bag on her shoulder.

“Some today, some tomorrow,” he answered.

“Great,” she mumbled and pulled her sunglasses from her face. Placing them on top of her head, she looked around the paddock. Searching for familiar faces of those she saw in movies, those she saw on album covers.

Nothing so far.

A breath left her lips. “Have you ever had your all time favourite celebrity show up?” She asked, ignoring the way her heart clenched in her chest. Not only was the rest of the world watching, but now the people she’d watched and admired since she was a kid (outside of the world of motorsport, of course. That was a different kettle of fish) were potentially so close, watching her so closely.

“Relax, Mari” he said gently, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. “Whether that one celebrity you dream about is watching or not, you’re gonna do great. You’re going to win this.”

She nodded at him, hand touching his before she pushed it away from her shoulder. “You’re gonna get points, okay?”

Carlos grinned at him. “I’m going to get points,” he reiterated and she nodded at him. “I’ll see you on the track,” he said as she began walking away from him.

She tipped her head to the side. “Yeah, when I lap you.” At that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving those words hanging between them.

Maybe another driver wouldn’t have taken it as well as Carlos did. But, when she turned on her heel, he was laughing as he made his way to the Williams garage.

Marigold Winslow made her way towards the McLaren garage. There would be a hat for her in her drivers room, an ugly, orange one that she would wear between qualifying sessions.

“Hi, Mari,” her friends in the garage called as she walked past.

Marigold offered polite smiles as she made her way through. She dragged her nails across Lando's shoulder blades as she passed him, a shiver running down his spine. “Fuck, Mari,” be groaned. “Don't do that.”

“Don't be so ticklish, then,” she muttered with a grin as she walked past him.

Before anybody could stop her, she disappeared into her driver's room. The little couch always looked so inviting, but she never let herself sit down. Not if she wanted to get up in time for the qualifying.

She pulled her black fireproofs and orange race overalls from the little wardrobe. Getting changed, she laid her jeans and shirt over her little sofa and grabbed her cap.

It just didn't suit her. Her hair was too light to make the hat work. But she still placed it on her head and walked out of her drivers room.

“Goldie.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. She had always hated that nickname, the nickname her father had given her before he upped and left. It had been perfectly clear since her junior sessions that she was Mari or Marigold. Not Goldie. Never Goldie.

Unclenching her jaw, she turned towards the owner of the race team. He was far too involved with the team, according to her. At every race, acting more like their team principal than their actual team principal.

“Mr Brown,” she said as he stepped closer to her. She nearly tripped over her feet trying to take a small, subtle step back.

A chuckle left his lips and her entire body shuddered. What an awful sound. “You don't need to call me that, Sweetheart,” he said and reached out to touch her.

She was going to retch, but she was going to lose her seat.

“We've got some guests coming to the garage today,” he said as he gestured for her to walk with him. She did as she was told, just to keep him happy.

“Celebrities?” She asked as she followed him back towards the garage. “I'm not meeting your president, Zac. I won't do it.”

Zac shook his head. “Not the president, Sweetheart. Just some actors in a superhero movie.”

Mari furrowed her brows. “What superhero movie?” She asked, hiking up the race suit hanging low on her hips.

Shrugging his shoulders, Zac held out his hand, gesturing for her to stand beside Lando. “I need the two of you on your best behaviour.”

“We're not kids, Zac,” Lando said as he rested his arm over her shoulders.

Being in the junior programme had really helped their bond. For a solid two years, Mari travelled to races with Lando and Oscar. Not every race, not when she needed to be somewhere else for an F2 race. But she was there, by Lando and Oscar's side as she completed free practice drives.

When Oscar moved to Red Bull and she joined Lando in McLaren, they were already thick as thieves.

“Do you know what movie it is?” She whispered as she leaned towards him.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. He didn't care about the celebrities coming to the race; it was all some stupid PR stunt, anyway.

But Mari hadn't been through that. Lando had years of it. He was used to it, used to the police smiles and friendly conversation with people who thought they were better than him. They always acted so interesting, only to spew on about things he didn't care about.

“I got you, Mari,” he whispered.

“I got you, Lan.”

Leaning against the nearest surface, the talked as much strategy for the day ahead as they dared. So far, the strategy calls she and her engineer worked on together had been amazing, never putting her too far away from pole.

“How you feeling?” He asked as he repositioned her hat on her head.

She batted his hand away. “Good,” Mari answered. “Confident.”

“Yeah?” He asked, releasing a giggle. “You're gonna need it.”

She shoved at his chest, light and playful. Just what she needed to calm her pre-race nerves.

“Look alive, people!”

The two looked at each other, eyebrows raised. They stepped away from each other, still leaning against the nearest surface. When Lando folded his arms over his chest, she did the same thing.

The celebrities strode into the garage. On first glance, Mari recognised none of them. No familiar faces, nobody she recognised from her movies or album covers. Relief and disappointment sparked inside of her all at once.

Lando kept his face stoic, so she did the same thing.

He stuck his hand out to the first one. “Lavinia,” she said politely, an unexpected British accent leaving her lips.

“Yeah, I've seen you in things,” Lando replied, dropping her hand.

It clicked then and there for Mari. “Holy shit, you're Lavinia Fox!” She barely kept the squeal out of her voice.

Lavinia turned to her with a smile that was a mix of gorgeous and kind. “You've seen one of my movies?” She asked and Mari nodded. “I saw you as Jane in Pride and Prejudice and it changed my life.” She took her hand, shaking it insistently. “I'm Mari and I'm a huge fan,” she said in way of explanation.

Landos hand touched her back.

Almost sheepishly, too sheepish for a Formula One driver, Mari dropped her hand. Lando began speaking again, stealing Lavinia’s attention. For that, Mari was grateful.

She looked at the next celebrity in the group.

It wasn't just a passing lack of recognition, she really didn't know who this guy was. Tall, dark hair that was going ever so slightly grey at his temples. That alone made it hard to place his age.

His blue eyes were pretty, that was undoubtable. He stared down at her, shoulders hunched slightly, waiting for her to say something.

“Who are you?”

Lando's elbow met her ribs. Sucking in a sharp breath, Mari shoved him away and turned back towards the unfamiliar celebrity. She didn't repeat, just raised her eyebrows at him.

“Rhett Abbott,” he tried, his gorgeously deep voice pitching at the end, as if he was asking himself a question. “I'm in the same movie as Vinia.”

Mari raised her eyebrows at him. “That's not an actor's name,” she mumbled and Lando's elbow met her ribs again. She was going to bruise tomorrow. “It's not!” She insisted. “It's a cowboy name!”

“You don't have to say it, Mari!”

“It's okay,” Rhett said, interrupting the two drivers. “I actually used to be a cowboy.”

“No way.” Mari couldn't stop herself from grinning, wide and a little sly all at once. “I was only kidding, I swear.” She moved her fingers, made an X over her chest. But then she held out her hand towards him. “I'm Mari.”

She took note of the way his brown hair curled around his ears. “Pretty name,” he said, squeezing her hand once before he dropped it.

“Short for Marigold, by the way,” Lando jumped in.

“Marigold,” Rhett repeated, tasting the way it rolled off his tongue. “Does anybody ever call you Goldie?”

The grin dropped from her face, expression hardening. “Not if they know what's good for them.”

I was going through my Google docs and I found SOOOO MANY rhett fics - all multiple parts and all long

[annaswrites00]

We Probably Shouldn’t - Kimi Antonelli

Kimi Antonelli x Rory Bearman (OC)

(3.4k)

Chapter Six

Chapter Five, Chapter Four, Chapter Three, Chapter Two, Chapter One

Summary - Kimi and Ollie’s sister start something they probably shouldn’t…

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The lights around the paddock had dimmed, trading their earlier harsh brightness for something gentler — amber-toned floodlights casting long shadows across the pavement, distant trucks rumbling like the night was slowly swallowing the last scraps of noise.

Rory walked along the fence line behind the motorhomes, camera slung at her side, fingers flexing idly around the grip. The quiet here was different — not empty, but softened. Distant voices drifted from somewhere near the hospitality units, muffled by canvas and distance. Overhead, the sky was turning that bruised, velvet blue that came just before full dark.

She stopped near the far edge of the lot, toes scuffing the gravel, and looked up.

The Ferris wheel lit up the horizon beyond the circuit — a halo of red and white, slowly spinning in the distance. It looked like something from another world entirely, almost too dreamy to belong to the same place that had been vibrating with engine heat and radio static just hours ago.

Rory raised her camera to her eye. Adjusted her settings. Waited for the wheel to hit just the right angle.

Click.

The shutter broke the hush like a whisper.

She shifted her weight to get another angle — and her grip slipped.

Not badly. Just a clumsy fumble as the strap caught against her jacket sleeve. The camera jerked forward, heavy and off-balance, lens tilting toward the concrete.

It never hit.

A hand closed around the strap in midair — clean, efficient, like it had always known it was needed.

Rory startled, blinking as Kimi straightened up beside her, her camera now safely caught in one palm.

“Your fast,” she said lightly, offering a look.

Their fingers brushed again in the exchange — not dramatic, just brief and solid, like punctuation at the end of a familiar sentence.

“Kind of my job.”

She looked up at him, camera settling against her ribs again. He was backlit by the floodlights strung along the fence — face half in shadow, eyes reflecting gold, mouth set in that steady, unreadable line that never quite gave her enough.

So she raised the camera and took the shot.

Click.

He didn’t flinch this time. Didn’t duck his head or ask what she was doing. Just watched her through the lens like it was nothing.

“You’re getting bold,” he said, not quite teasing.

“Just curious,” she murmured. She checked the screen — not perfect, but something about the blur made it better. He was a little out of focus, all soft edges and warm light, like a memory caught before it had time to harden.

Kimi tilted his head. “Let me see it.”

She hesitated a second — just a beat — before angling the screen toward him.

He looked.

Didn’t say anything right away. Just studied the image for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in the way his brows pulled in ever so slightly.

“That one…” he said, voice quiet now. “You can keep.”

She blinked. “I wasn’t going to delete it.”

“I know,” he said simply. “But you keep them separate. The ones that you like. I saw the folders while you were editing on your laptop."

Rory froze.

It wasn’t accusatory. Wasn’t even a question.

It was just… true.

She did keep them separate. The real ones. Not for Instagram, not for the team folders or Ollie’s manager or the photo dumps she sometimes sent around after a race weekend. The personal ones lived somewhere else. A folder on her desktop with no label, just a string of numbers and letters only she understood.

Kimi was in more of them than she realized.

She wet her lips. “You don’t mind?”

He shook his head, slow and certain. “No.”

She waited. Wondered if that was it. If he’d nod once and walk off like he always did, like he hadn’t just quietly unspooled her heart with a five-word sentence.

But instead, he leaned against the fence beside her, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, gaze flicking out toward the spinning Ferris wheel in the distance.

Rory didn’t move.

They stood like that for a long while — side by side, not touching, not speaking — just breathing the same slow, cool air while the paddock behind them gradually fell asleep.

She didn’t take any more pictures.

She didn’t need to.

That one was enough.

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The sun was barely up when Rory stepped out into the paddock.

Suzuka looked different in the morning light — quieter, stripped back. The chaos hadn’t woken up yet. The air still smelled faintly like rubber and dew, the asphalt cool under her boots, shadows long and blue around the corners of the hospitality units.

Her breath puffed out in small clouds. Spring hadn’t quite made up its mind whether it was staying.

She pulled her hoodie sleeves down over her hands and moved slowly toward the Mercedes motorhome, camera bag slung over her shoulder more from habit than intent. She wasn’t even sure she’d use it this morning. Her thoughts were too tangled.

She hadn’t slept well. Not in a bad way — not restless or anxious — just… full. Like her brain kept replaying tiny loops of last night, that half-second moment when their fingers had touched again, the way Kimi had looked at her photo like it wasn’t just a picture.

He said, “You can keep it.” And he meant it.

That was the part that kept catching in her chest.

She rounded the corner near the motorhome and stopped short.

Kimi was already there.

Sitting on the steps outside the entrance, hoodie zipped halfway up, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. His cap was tugged low over his brow again, but the morning light caught on his profile — all clean lines and calm stillness. Like someone had drawn him into the landscape with purpose.

He looked up as she approached.

Didn’t startle, didn’t straighten. Just took her in with that slow-burn gaze of his, like he had all the time in the world.

“Morning,” he said.

Rory felt something stupid and fluttery lodge behind her ribs.

“Hey,” she murmured, hugging the strap of her camera bag closer.

He nodded toward the steps. “You want to sit?”

She hesitated, then nodded, settling beside him with just enough space to be polite, but not so much it felt like she was pulling away.

The early silence stretched between them — soft, but not awkward. Like white space between verses.

“You always up this early?” she asked, voice still scratchy with sleep.

“Only on days that matter.”

She glanced at him, brows arching. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

Kimi smirked faintly into his coffee cup. “You want the honest answer?”

Rory grinned despite herself. “Obviously.”

He tilted his head. “Not nervous. Just… focused. There’s a difference.”

She nodded, watching the way his thumb tapped lightly against the paper cup — rhythmic, steady.

“Is this your version of pre-race meditation?” she teased.

He shrugged. “Better than being stuck inside with cameras in my face.”

She snorted. “Touché.”

A quiet beat passed.

Then — like it was nothing — Kimi said, “You didn’t post the photo. In your free practice dump."

Her heart lurched.

Rory turned her head slowly toward him. “You checked? You follow my camera account?”

“I do.”

She searched his face, but it gave her nothing. Just the same composed steadiness — except his eyes. His eyes were watching her a little too closely.

“I wasn’t going post it,” she said carefully. “It didn’t feel like something to share. Wanted to keep it for myself.”

Kimi nodded once, eyes dropping to his coffee again. “Good.”

Another beat.

Then, quietly: “I liked it.”

Rory’s throat felt tight.

She looked down at her lap, fidgeted with the zipper on her hoodie. “I don’t take many of people like that. When they’re not expecting it.”

“You should,” he said simply. “You catch things most people miss.”

The words landed like something important, something heavier than just a compliment.

Rory swallowed. “Thanks.”

They fell into silence again, but this time it buzzed with something closer to a charge.

Then Kimi turned his head toward her, that half-smile ghosting over his lips. “You always fumble your camera, or is that just when I’m around?”

She groaned, head tipping back. “God, don’t start.”

He laughed softly — barely a sound, but it warmed the space between them like sunlight.

Rory bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m a racing driver,” he said, amused. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

They sat like that for another few minutes — shoulder to shoulder, toes brushing the edge of shadow, everything slow and still and strangely intimate for a pre-qualifying morning.

Eventually, a call came from inside the motorhome — muffled but unmistakable. One of the engineers, probably.

Kimi sighed. Drained the last of his coffee and stood, stretching the stiffness from his legs.

He turned back toward her, pausing.

“Wish me luck?” he asked.

Rory stood too, brushing her hands off on her thighs. “You don’t need it.”

He looked at her for a moment — long, unreadable — then nodded once and stepped backward toward the door.

Just before disappearing inside, he added over his shoulder:

“Still wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

And then he was gone.

Rory stood frozen for a moment, heart thudding too hard.

Then, soft and to no one at all, she whispered, “Good luck, Kimi.”

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The air still pulsed with the leftover adrenaline of qualifying — the paddock moving in quick, purposeful strides. But Kimi wasn’t. He stood near the garage barrier, half in shadow, suit peeled down to his waist, the arms knotted loose around his hips. His fireproof top clung to his frame, the fabric thin and sweat-dark at the collar.

He looked overheated and underwhelmed. Like a match that had flared and sputtered too fast.

Rory spotted him from a distance — all sharp lines and unreadable expression — and made her way over before she could talk herself out of it. The closer she got, the more she could see it: the twitch in his jaw, the tension coiled just beneath the surface.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

Kimi didn't look at her right away. Just took a sip of water, throat working, gaze locked somewhere in the middle distance.

“Had more in it,” he muttered. “Lost the rear into Spoon. Pushed too hard on entry.”

She didn’t need the telemetry to hear the frustration in his voice. It wasn’t loud, but it was tight. Controlled. The way you clench your fists in your pockets instead of punching something.

Rory stepped in beside him — not quite shoulder to shoulder, but close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin. Close enough to know he noticed.

“Still strong,” she offered, voice low.

Kimi finally glanced her way, and something in his gaze lingered a little too long. “Strong isn’t fast.”

“You’ll be fast tomorrow,” she said, and meant it.

He didn’t reply. Not with words. But the corner of his mouth twitched, barely there. Like something inside him softened for a second.

Rory adjusted the strap of her camera, fingers moving out of habit more than purpose. But Kimi’s eyes tracked the motion — slow and deliberate.

“You’re gonna take another one, aren’t you?” he asked.

She paused. “Do you want me to?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just let his eyes sweep over her slow enough that she felt it. Like he was weighing something.

Then: “Yeah. Go ahead.”

So she stepped back, raised her camera, and focused.

He didn’t pose. Didn’t look away either. Just stood there — flushed from the run, hair damp under his cap, chest rising and falling like the engine hadn’t quite cooled yet.

She took the photo.

It clicked between them like a lock sliding into place.

“You’ll keep that one too?” he asked, quieter this time.

Rory hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

Kimi shifted slightly, just enough that their arms brushed. Not by accident. Not this time.

Her breath caught.

Something shifted between them in the pause that followed. Not loud, but loud enough — the hum of tension threading tight in the silence. Their gazes met again and held.

Rory swallowed. “You make it hard not to.”

He raised a brow. “To what?”

“To leave you out of the ones I save.”

She could not believe she had just admitted that.

His smile wasn’t really a smile — it was more like a crack in the mask. Brief, crooked, and far too effective.

“You could just admit you like looking at me.”

“Don’t push it,” she said, but the words lacked heat. Her voice had gone soft again. Breathier than she meant it to.

He leaned a little closer, just enough that she felt it — the whisper of space collapsing between them. He leaned down close enough to whisper in her ear.

“I’m not pushing,” Kimi murmured. “Just noticing.”

And then, like nothing had happened at all, he took another sip of water and stepped back, turning his face toward the garage as someone called his name.

But before he left, he tipped his head toward her and said — voice lower, laced with something that might’ve been a promise:

“You’ll be around later?”

Rory nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be around.”

He gave a half-smile — one of the rare ones, the kind that hooked itself into the pit of her stomach — and then disappeared back into the crowd.

Rory stood there a little longer, heart thudding against her ribs, her camera warm against her side.

She scrolled back to the photo.

He wasn’t smiling in it. But god, he didn’t have to be.

It was all there anyway.

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Rory found him behind the garage, tucked out of view from the usual chaos. His gear off, changed into a pair of shorts - no shirt - towel around his shoulders, he had a water bottle in one hand, jaw tight, expression locked somewhere between exhausted and pissed off.

She hovered for half a second before stepping closer.

“P6,” she said softly, just to say something.

Kimi didn’t look at her. Just took a drink, slow and deliberate. His neck moved with the swallow, the hollow of his throat flexing. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. Bare.

“Yeah.”

Rory raised her brows. “You're not happy with that?"

That earned a glance, at least. Sharp and sidelong.

"I just know I can do more." He stated.

She leaned against the rail beside him, a careful distance. Still not quite immune to him.

“Do you always stand around shirtless when you're in a mood, or is this a special occasion?”

He glanced down at himself, then back at her — unbothered. “Hot.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

The heat between them wasn’t just from the sun anymore. It had shifted — slow and crawling. His eyes held to hers for a second too long. She looked away first.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“No, I’m—" She stopped herself. “Okay. Maybe.”

Another beat of silence stretched between them, taut and uncertain.

“You want me to leave?” she asked.

“No.” He didn’t even think about it.

She laughed under her breath — too aware of how her arms had started to fold across her chest, a subconscious brace.

“You’re grumpy.”

He gave a dry huff. “You’re nosy.”

“You like that I am.”

Kimi looked at her again — not the casual kind of look. This one felt heavier, like he was trying to decide something.

“I like that you show up, you come find me,” he said finally. “Even when I don’t ask.”

“I don’t need an invitation,” she said, a little sharper than she meant it.

“No,” he said, “but I’d give you one.”

That stopped her cold for a second. Not the words — the way he said them. Like he wasn’t teasing. Like he meant it.

And just as the silence turned into something almost too much to hold—

“Oi,” came a familiar voice from behind them. “You two hiding back here to talk about tire compounds or what?”

Ollie.

Rory stepped back quickly, as if burned. Kimi didn’t move. He just shifted his body slightly, not away from her — but enough to re-center.

Ollie jogged up, helmet still in hand, oblivious as ever. “Man, I’m starving. You guys coming out or what?”

“Eventually,” Rory said, too fast.

Kimi didn’t answer.

Ollie looked between them, confused for a blink. Then shrugged. “Cool. I’ll grab you something if you’re not out by then.”

“Yeah,” Rory said. “Thanks.”

Ollie clapped Kimi on the back and wandered off, whistling.

Silence slipped back between them, stretched thinner now.

Kimi didn’t look away. “He really doesn’t see it.”

“See what?” she asked quietly.

“That I’m not exactly being subtle.”

Her heart thumped once, too loud in her chest.

“I noticed,” she said.

He stepped closer then — not enough to touch, but enough that it made her pulse jump.

“Good,” he murmured.

And then, just like that, he pulled back — slow, deliberate, letting the moment settle, heavy in the air.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, voice low, eyes still lingering on her mouth like he was already thinking about it. "Back at the hotel?"

She didn’t trust herself to say anything. So she just nodded.

And watched him disappear into the garage without looking back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧

Thanks for reading!!!

ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ʚ🧸ɞ˚

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 13

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

All Falls Down (Prequel)

Series Masterlist

ONCE AGAIN: A BIG ASS SHOUT OUT TO @paigereeder. When I say this chapter would not have gotten done w/o her!!!!

*The gif is what I picture Josh wearing w/ a pair of black Nike shorts and some slides* (in the first part)

~ Friday Night ~

“I’m gonna take ’em upstairs,” Josh whispered to Kiyana just as the credit to COCO started rolling. Kiyana stretched and looked over to her left, where both of her boys were knocked out, leaning on Josh. Kairo thankfully went down at his usual bedtime. Kaiden and Kamari, on the other hand, put up the biggest fight to stay up later with their dad. 

They had almost made it through both movies when their eyes started to droop. Kamari doesn’t play about his sleep. The second he feels Mr. Sandman knocking at his door, he welcomes him with open arms. Kaiden, on the other hand, didn’t want to miss a moment with his dad. He had fallen asleep 15 minutes into the first movie, but when Josh tried to carry him up the steps, Kaiden woke up, protesting that he wasn’t sleeping and he wanted to stay with his dad. 

Kiyana let out a deep sigh when Josh disappeared up the steps with both of their sons—this whole day had been extremely awkward for her. It had only been about four weeks since they signed the papers, and here they were, about to go out on a date tomorrow night. She loved Josh, and nothing would ever change that, but Josh had hurt her badly, and she was terrified of letting him back into her heart. 

Standing up, she started cleaning up the living room, gathering the trash from the snacks the boys and Josh had devoured and taking it into the kitchen. While she was in the kitchen, she decided to pour herself a glass of wine. She went to grab Josh a Diet Coke from the fridge, popped it open, got him a cup of ice, and brought it into the living room for him, placing it on a coaster on the coffee table. 

She continued to tidy up, and by the time Josh came back downstairs, she was done lounging on the couch and catching up on the newest episode of Love Island. Josh plopped down next to Kiyana. He glanced at her, her features illuminated by the TV’s light. Just being this close to her again made him realize how badly he fucked up. She would always be his Key. But, before she was that, she was THEE Kiyana Jackson. Before she had become this powerhouse of a woman, the best mother to his kids, an excellent cook, and a bomb-ass nurse, she was the girl that scared the fuck outta him. He couldn’t even hold a full conversation with her back then because his brain would short circuit; knees weak, arms heavy, butterflies in an all-out war games match in his stomach. The girl that his classmates convinced him he’d never have a chance with because she was leaps and bounds above his league, and he had fucked it up being a dumbass, proving them right.

“You good?” Kiyana asked him with a slight laugh, and he nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up at being caught staring. 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Kiyana grabbed the remote, paused the TV, and turned her attention to him. 

“Josh.” 

“C’mere,” he whispered, opening his arms for her. “Please,” he added in a hushed tone when Kiyana didn’t move. She bit her lip and looked at him, contemplating whether she should move closer to him. Sighing, she nodded and scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he closed his arms around her. The second she scooted into his arms, it was like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. 

Josh fully relaxed on the couch and closed his eyes. This is what he was missing. The arguing, fighting, and cheating were not what he and Kiyana were about. Their being at odds felt so foreign, and it was mostly his fault. 

“What the hell is this show even about?” Josh asked after a couple of minutes had passed. Kiyana laughed and turned her head so she could look at him. 

“It’s about finding love.” She whispered as her eyes dropped down to his lips.  Josh leaned in slowly, his heart pounding as he closed the distance between them. Josh deepened the kiss, letting out a low moan as Kiyana shifted her position and was now straddling him, with her legs on either side of his hips. Josh’s hands roamed down Kiyana’s back before finally resting on her ass, firmly squeezing it while pulling her closer to him. 

Josh’s phone started to go off, making the both of them groan in displeasure. “Fuck..” Josh groaned, throwing his back against the couch. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, breathing heavily as he read the text message he just received. Kiyana arched her eyebrow as he ran his hand through his hair. 

“What?” 

Josh bit his lip as he looked at her. “Don’t be mad.” He whispered. “But I’ll be right back.” Josh saw the look of disappointment and doubt in her eyes, and he immediately cupped her face and tried to ease her worries. “Don’t do that. I promise it ain’t about no bitch. I’m forever about you. I just got something I gotta handle.”  Kiyana rolled her eyes and removed herself from his lap, settling back on the couch and crossing her arms over her chest. “Key,” Josh called out softly, cupping her chin and turning her face so she could look at him. “Trust me, I’ll be right back.” Kiyana narrowed her eyes but eventually nodded her head.  

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you when you come back.” Josh smiled and pecked her lips. 

“30 minutes tops.” 

“Mmhm,”  Kiyana hummed, and Josh couldn’t blame her for her suspicion. He had been disloyal and ruined their relationship. But this was something he couldn’t tell her because she would definitely try to keep him in the house. Josh sighed and stood from the couch. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Be right back, Key.” She nodded and pressed play on the remote, continuing her show while he walked over to the key hook and grabbed his car keys. Kiyana let him keep his truck in the garage while he was on the road because someone broke into it the last time he left it at his apartment. 

As Josh walked into the garage,  he knew that no matter how much he reassured Kiyana, there was a lingering doubt in her mind—a scar from past betrayals. Settling into the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone and re-read the text message he had received. 

Ms Deb(key’s co-worker): Dr. Daniels gets off in 10 min. Do what you want with that information… oh and he drives a black infinity w/ blacked out windows. Plate: DRDAN.  Ms Deb(key’s co-worker): delete this thread… and treat my girl right!��

Josh smiled at the later message and started his car before backing out of the garage and driving towards the hospital. 

Elijah smiled as he made his way out of the hospital. He had a pretty good day: three successful surgeries, and his wife came and surprised him with lunch with his children. That smile was quickly wiped off his face the closer he got to his car. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Elijah seethed, eyeing Josh up and down. 

Josh smirked and pushed himself off of Elijah’s car. “I told ya’ bitch ass I was gonna catch you again, didn’t I?” Josh sneered as he walked into Eli’s personal space. Elijah gulped as he looked around. Josh had a good 20 pounds of muscle on Eli, and to be completely honest, Eli didn’t want to walk around with another black eye. 

Eli held his hand up and took a step back from Josh. “I don’t have time for this,” Elijah said, trying to steady his voice despite the nerves tightening in his chest. “You need to leave.”

“I ain’t going nowhere.” 

“Look—” Tired of hearing Elijah’s voice, Josh lunged at him, landing a right hook on Eli’s jaw and knocking him to the ground.  

“Yeahhh,” Josh cackled, clapping his hands together. “Getcho’ ass up. You wanna put your hands on women? Come put ya hands on me!” Elijah staggered to his feet, his fists clenched in anger as he lunged at Josh, who quickly ducked it and tackled him to the ground. There was nobody here to stop Josh this time. Josh threw punch after punch, getting all his anger out on this low life. 

“Alright, Alright. Enough..” Josh felt someone grab the back of his shirt, trying to stop him from punching Elijah. “You got him, relax.” 

Josh stopped swinging, his chest heaving with the adrenaline and fury, and looked down at Elijah, who looked like he was one punch away from a permanent coma. Elijah’s face was a swollen mess, eyes barely open, and he lay motionless, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Josh felt his shirt being tugged again, and he let the person move him off Elijah. 

“Damn,” Josh looked, and it was the security guard who broke up their fight last time. “He’s lucky you beat his ass in front of the hospital.” The security guy joked, cracking a smile while holding his hand out for Josh to shake. “Main Event Jey Uso, nice to meet you man.” 

Josh’s eyes widened. “Hey Uce-” 

“I already paused the cameras; as soon as I get back to my desk, I’ll delete the footage. I hate women beaters. I lost my mom that way.” Josh’s expression softened, and he shook the guy’s hand. “I’m happy your ex has someone who sticks up for her. If only my mom had someone.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that—” Josh paused, as he didn’t know this guy’s name. 

“Adrian, and hey, it’s cool. You did what you had to do. But uh. You might wanna get outta here. I gotta call this in.” Adrian finished off, holding the walkie-talkie up, and Josh nodded. He glanced down at Elijah, who was starting to move, before giving Adrian a nod, jogging back over to his truck, and leaving. 

Kiyana sat up and looked towards the entryway to the living room when she heard the front door open and close. She knew it was way past thirty minutes because she had watched two more episodes of Love Island. She heard him set the house alarm before he started walking towards the living room. 

“You said thirty minutes.” She muttered before her eyes widened as he walked closer to her and she saw how red and bruised his knuckles were. “Dude, what the fuck?! What did you do?” 

“What I had to.” 

“Josh -” 

“He put his hand on you! He could not get away with that shit Key. I did what I had to do.” Kiyana sighed and gently grabbed his hand, leading him up the stairs and to her bedroom. 

“Sit,” She said, pointing to the bed and Josh quickly obliged. Kiyana then walked into the ensuite bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit before walking back over to Josh and grabbing his hands. 

“You mad huh?” Josh asked, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched Kiyana clean off his knuckles. Kiyana didn’t respond immediately, her gaze focused on cleaning his knuckles. 

“I’m not mad. Just wish you would have told me. Would have loved to get a couple kicks in.” She looked up meeting Josh's eyes and chuckled at the shocked look on his face. “What? I was in shock when he actually grabbed me and he walked away before I could actually T off on his ass.” She said as she stood up and climbed into bed.  Josh stood up as well. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Shoot, next time I’ll let you know then.” He said as he started walking towards the door. 

“Woah! Where are you going?” She asked and he stopped. 

“Was going to the guest room.” He said as more of a question and Kiyana started shaking her head and patted the spot next to her. “Fo’real?” Josh asked, a big ass smile coming onto his face as Kiyana nodded her head. He practically rips his shirt over his head before he throws himself onto the bed next to her, his heart swelling in his chest as he hears her giggle. It has been forever since he’s been the one to make her giggle. 

~ Saturday Afternoon ~

“So you really thinking about giving him another chance?” Kiyana sighed and set down her make-up brush before meeting her mother's eyes in her vanity mirror. 

“Yes,” Kiyana replied softly, her fingers absentmindedly adjusting the brushes in front of her. “Mom -” Kiyana started but Imani held her hand up, stopping her. 

“No, You’re gonna listen to what I have to say, Kiyana Marie.” Kiyana shut her mouth and turned her body so her side was leaning against the back of the vanity chair.  “That man” her mother continued, her voice dripping with disdain,  “Has done so much damage to you. Cheating on you while you were carrying this little angel.” Kiyana rolled her eyes at her mom’s dramatics.  “I was here Key, I seen what his infidelity did to your confidence. I saw the way you frowned at your body when you walked past the mirror and now he gets a second chance for what? To do it all over again.” 

Kiyana felt her shoulders sag as he mother’s words sunk in. “So you think I’m being stupid?” 

“No baby girl. I don’t think you’re being stupid. I just want you to not rush back into this with Josh. I know y’all still love each other and you had to stay in contact with the kids but still remember to put yourself first. Don’t just get back with him because you know Kaiden and Kamari are going to be happy.” 

“I am putting myself first Mom. It’s not just about my sons being happy it’s about me being happy as well. Yes, Josh fu- messed up but everyone deserves a second chance. Isn’t that what you told me? After Dad cheated on you, you stayed. You told me that everyone deserves a second chance.” Imani’s eyes lowered to the floor as Kiyana continued. “Dad has two kids on you and you still stayed. Josh cheated and had no kids. And I tried to move on, but I love Josh and can’t change that.” 

“I just want the best for you Kiyana. And you’re right, I did forgive your father but I don’t want you to be like me. But I understand that you are a grown woman and you need to make these decisions for yourself.” 

“Why are you making it seem like I’m making a mistake?” Kiyana asked, getting irritated with her mother. 

“I’m just saying. You need to learn for yourself. I’m not the only one who thinks this either. Kenyatta feels the same.” Kiyana snorted and turned back around so she could face her vanity again. 

“You mean the serial cheater? He cheated on every girl he was ever with Mom - you know what.” Kiyana paused and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna get dressed now you can go.” 

Imani scoffed “Kiyana” she called out, as Kiyana stood and walked into her walk-in closet. Kiyana rolled her eyes as she came back out with her dress in her hand, hanging off the hanger. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” Imani said, to which Kiyana ignored. Imani sighed, picked Kairo up off the bed, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

As the door clicked shut, Kiyana took a deep breath and tried to steady her racing thoughts. The sound of her mother’s voice still echoed in her mind, a mix of concern and frustration. She slipped her dress on, trying to focus on the soft fabric against her skin rather than the knot in her stomach.

~ Saturday Night ~

“You can do this,” Kiyana whispered to herself. Her mom had just yelled up the steps, telling her Josh was there. Kiyana could hear her kids going crazy after not seeing him all day. “It’s just Josh. You been on plenty of dates with Josh before.”  Taking a deep breath, Kiyana smoothed down her hair and checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before walking out of her bedroom and walking down the steps to meet Josh. 

She felt herself blush as he let out a low “Damn.” before clearing his throat and walking over to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. “You look beautiful, Key. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” He then asked his sons and they nodded their heads. 

“You look very pretty Mama,” Kaiden said and Kiyana smiled and him, bending down to press a kiss on his head, 

“Thank you, Bean” She then turned to Josh. “You look nice too.” Josh’s cheeks heated up at her compliment. 

“You ready to go?” He asked and she nodded.

“Be good for grandma.” She said to her kids, giving them a quick hug before stepping out the door with Josh. The short walk to his truck was silent. Josh opened the passenger door for her and grabbed her hand, helping her into the truck. 

“You ready to go?” He asked and she nodded.

“Be good for grandma.” She said to her kids, giving them a quick hug before stepping out the door with Josh. The short walk to his truck was silent. Josh opened the passenger door for her and grabbed her hand, helping her into the truck. 

 Kiyana stole glances at Josh as he drove, admiring the way the streetlights illuminated his profile, casting shadows across his chiseled features. At a red light, Josh reached across the console and gently grabbed her hand lacing their fingers together. Kiyana’s heart skipped a beat as Josh’s fingers intertwined with hers. The warmth of his touch sent a thrill up her arm. She glanced at him, catching a glimpse of the soft smile playing on his lips.

“I’m happy you agreed to this date,” Josh muttered, breaking the silence in the car. Kiyana bit the inside of her lip and she looked over at him. 

 "I'm glad too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Josh smiled and started driving again as the light turned green, the butterflies in his belly intensifying as he felt her squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” Kiyana smiled at Josh as he pulled out her chair for her. The restaurant he picked was nice and cozy. It was one that neither of them had been at before. He wanted to choose a new restaurant so they could make new memories and weren’t plagued by old ones. 

As Josh settled in his seat across from her, he felt like the luckiest SOB in that restaurant. The second he and Kiyana had walked in, all eyes turned toward her. She had turned so many heads, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at one couple, when the woman reached over and plucked her boyfriend or husband on his forehead when he wouldn’t stop staring at Key. 

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” The waiter came over and set the free bread down on their table. Kiyana ordered a white while while Josh decided to order a water with a lemon. He wanted to stay sober for the conversation he knew they were going to have. 

As the waiter left, Kiyana took a deep breath and looked directly into Josh’s eyes. The dim candlelight cast a soft glow on her face. “I um- I know we agreed to try to move on, but I think we need to talk about everything first.” She said and Josh nodded. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. “What happened? What made you.” She paused as if she couldn’t bear to say it. “What made you cheat on me?” 

The waitress quickly set their drink down and left as she heard Kiyana’s question. The waitress figured they could wait to eat. 

“Oh god,” Josh whispered, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I don’t know if she told you, but I talked to Samara about this already,” Josh stated to which Kiyana nodded. 

“She told me a little. She also told me to just hear you out.” 

“I- I honestly never meant for anything to go that far. Before this conversation continues, I need you to know that. I need you to know that I will forever beat myself up for doing that to you.” When Kiyana nodded he continued. “I just wanted to vent Key. I just wanted someone to talk to about what I was going through without being told to think about your feelings. And yes it was selfish of me but nobody cared about how I felt. God, it’s so fucking selfish but I just wanted someone to talk to and it went too far.” He finished, not breaking eye contact so she knew how serious he was being. 

“But four months Joshua? You were going on the road fucking her then coming back and fucking me.” 

Joshua looked down, his hands trembling slightly. He knew he had hurt Kiyana deeply, and the guilt weighed heavily on him. “I fucked up Key, I fucked up so damn bad.” He looked back up at her. “But I’m willing to do anything and everything to prove my love and loyalty to you again. I already talked to my boss and a couple of the higher-ups. She been harassing me n’shit and I filed some paperwork against her. She can’t come near me or she’ll be fired.” 

Kiyana felt her face scrunch up at what he said. “So y’all were still messing around?”  

Josh started shaking his head ‘no’ immediately. “Hell no. I stopped messing with her around the time I told you about the affair.” 

Kiyana narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, trying to see how sincere he was being with his words. After knowing him for almost twenty-four years, she knew when he was lying and right now he wasn’t. He was telling her the truth. 

“So what about you telling her that you were gonna divorce me for her.” 

“I never said that.” He answered immediately. “I told you back then that I never said that. That was some dumbshit she said and Joe must’ve overheard her.” 

Kiyana went to ask her next question but was interrupted by the waitress. “Sorry, but um- would y’all like to order now?” Josh and Kiyana broke eye contact to look at the waitress. Josh let out a deep sigh a nodded before ordering a steak meal for himself while Kiyana ordered a pasta dish. The waitress hurried up and scurried away.  Kiyana looked back at Josh and asked her next question. 

“Do you regret it?”  

“Of course I do.” Josh's voice was filled with regret as he met Kiyana's gaze, his eyes reflecting the pain he had caused her. “Do you regret sleeping with Joe?” He asked, just as she took a sip of her wine. Kiyana’s eyes widened as she heard his question. Did she regret sleeping with Joe? 

“I don’t regret it.” She finally said, swallowing a lump in her throat as Josh’s jaw clenched. “You hurt me badly Joshua. Like, I was hurt and confused and he was there. It wasn’t about getting back at you because he’s your cousin. It was,” She paused as she tried to find the right words. “It was you had your fun, so why couldn’t I.”  

Taking a moment to compose himself, Josh locked eyes with Kiyana, his gaze intense yet vulnerable. “I understand” He whispered. He reached across the table grasping her hand in his. “I want us to move past all of this. Do you want there to be an us? Do you want to move past this?” 

Kiyana squeezed Josh's hand tightly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside her. After everything they had been through, the hurt and betrayal, she knew that a decision needed to be made. She took a deep breath and met Josh's gaze. “Yes, I want there to be an us again. I want us to be able to move on from this.” 

Josh's eyes softened, relief washing over his face as he heard Kiyana's words. “Deadass?” 

Kiyana chuckled, nodding her head. “I’m being so deadass right now.” 

“I swear on my life, you won’t regret this Key. Imma do everything I can to prove that I love you and I want you.” 

As they sat there holding hands, a wave of relief washed over both Kiyana and Josh. The weight of their past mistakes and the pain they had caused each other seemed to lighten ever so slightly. They both knew that rebuilding their relationship would not be easy, but they were willing to try. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Kiyana whispered as she and Josh walked to the front door of her house. 

“If you want me to,” Josh replied and Kiyana nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him into the house. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her ass. Loving the way it swayed as she walked. She kept a firm grasp on his hand as she set the house alarm and walked up the steps. Both of them peeked into their kids' rooms to make sure they were tucking in and sleeping. 

Josh’s heart was beating extremely fast as Kiyana led him into her room.  Kiyana turned to face Josh, her eyes almost black with lust. She closed the distance between them, her body pressing flush against his, and Without a word, she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him. Kiyana moaned softly into the kiss, her body trembling with need. She broke away, panting lightly, her eyes locked on Josh's.

“You sure?” He asked and instead of giving him an answer, Kiyana undid the back of her dress and let it fall down her body. Josh watched as the dress fell to her feet, leaving her in just her white lace thong. 

“I’m sure” She whispered before capturing his lips again in a searing kiss. 

KiyanaJackson_

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user: she is 2 fine!

trinity_fatu: girl! 🔥

user: WHO TF WOULD CHEAT ON HER? A DUMBASS THATS WHO!

marrraaa_ : fuckable 🤤

Sorry for any grammar and/ or spelling mistakes. I am dead tired and I wanted to get this chapter out.

Sooo how was this chapter? Give me y'all honest thoughts!...

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[sleekervae]

Solo Mode [1] jackson wang x fem!oc

Masterlist

A/N: I've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a while, never had the push to write it until Jackson started releasing music again. It's my little birthday gift for myself ☺️ Lemme know what you think!

Pairing: jackson wang/fem!oc

Summary: He's an international pop star trying to outrun burnout. She's a sharp-tongued software engineer who doesn't do feelings. What starts as a no-strings arrangement quickly unravels into something messier, softer, and realer than either of them planned. Between chaotic breakfasts, late-night confessions, and breaking every rule they set, Jackson and Heather find themselves in deep — and neither of them knows how to stop it.

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.7k

Heather had been staring at her screen so long her eyes felt like they’d been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

A single red error message blinked in the corner of her code editor like a middle finger. She typed something, rewrote it, deleted it, then typed it again with more force—like that would make the compiler less of a bitch.

The fix was so close. She could feel it.

This patent meant everything. Years of development. Her own codebase. Her design. Her algorithm. Her name. She was going to stamp that shit into tech history if it killed her—and given the four hours of sleep she was running on, it might.

Her tea was cold. Again.

She shoved the cup aside and reached for her headphones, already resigned to another night of silence and circuits.

Then came the bass.

A low, rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat made of bad decisions, started pulsing through her wall.

Heather paused, jaw tightening.

She waited. Sometimes it was just a one-song thing—someone testing a speaker. A music cue for a home workout. A tragic attempt at a sex playlist. She could forgive that.

The song ended.

Another one started.

Louder.

This one had more bass. Thicker vocals. A synth loop that could drill straight into her skull.

Heather yanked off her headphones. Waited.

Male voices joined the music—shouting, laughing. Someone belted a high note and knocked straight into a wall. She heard the distinct clatter of something heavy hitting the floor.

Her eye twitched.

She stared at her code like she could will the function to solve itself. She counted to ten. Counted again. Then shoved her headphones back on and turned up her white noise generator until it hissed like static in her skull.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

The wall thumped again.

“Fuck me,” she muttered, slamming her laptop shut.

She marched to the wall and slapped it with her palm. “Shut the fuck up!”

A chorus of mocking laughter greeted her back. The music didn’t stop.

Heather turned in a slow, surgical circle, walked to her front door, yanked it open, and stalked barefoot into the hallway like a vengeance demon in a hoodie. The hallway bulb flickered overhead, as always, and the noise spilled clearer from the apartment next to hers.

5D.

Of course it was 5D. The asshole with the luxury vinyl door mat and people shuffling in and out at all hours of the morning. She’d hardly seen his face. She didn’t care to. Whoever he was, he partied too much, wore too much cologne, and had the kind of deep-pocket PR budget that covered noise complaints like napkins on spilled liquor.

She knocked once.

Nothing.

She banged again. Harder.

The music cut mid-drop.

Muffled voices argued. Something about “just open the fucking door, bro, she’s gonna call the super.”

It swung open.

And standing there—shirt undone, chain glinting, black silk clinging to smooth, a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass, inked skin and an expression too drunk to care—was him.

Heather froze. He smiled, lazy and stupid and pretty. One brow quirked like she’d shown up to amuse him.

“Hey,” he said, drawl thick with booze. “You lost?”

“No,” she snapped, arms crossing. “I’m working. Or I was. Until you and your frat house remix session decided 3 a.m. was prime time for a rave.”

He blinked. Then laughed, low and hoarse and a little off-balance.

“You’re the girl next door.”

“And you're my drunken idiot neighbour.”

He leaned against the doorframe like it might start spinning.

“You always this mean?”

“You always this fucking loud?”

“Only when I have a good time.” he shot back. “You should try working during the day like a normal person.”

Heather’s smile went razor-sharp.

“You should try choking on glass.”

He laughed again, like she was a feature not a bug. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“You’ve got ten seconds to shut the music off or I make this an HOA issue.”

“Ooh,” he teased, dragging the word. “Miss Murder Eyes wants to file a complaint.”

“Miss Murder Eyes wants to burn your speaker system to ash.”

He looked like he was about to say something else—something smug—but someone inside the apartment yelled his name and he turned halfway, distracted.

Heather didn’t wait.

She turned on her heel and walked back to her apartment, slamming her door so hard the frame shook.

The music didn’t come back on.

But she knew—knew—this wasn’t the last time she’d have to deal with that walking, talking, open-shirted migraine.

The elevator doors creaked open with all the enthusiasm of a Monday hangover. Heather stepped in, hoodie swallowed around her like a fabric shield, socked feet tucked into Adidas slides, legs bare and chilled under the fabric of worn athletic shorts. She looked like what she was: an exhausted, overcaffeinated, over-it woman one microsecond away from flaying the next person who so much as breathed too loudly.

Unfortunately, the next person was already inside the elevator.

Her fucking neighbour.

Slouched in one corner like a cover model for "Too Cool to Care," he wore a zip hoodie hanging open over a rumpled black tank, grey sweats slung too low on hips that had no business being that sculpted, and—of course—sunglasses. Indoors. At 8:07 a.m.

Her eye twitched. “Are you seriously wearing sunglasses inside?”

He tilted his head lazily toward her. “Heather, right? Good morning to you, too.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

He yawned. Loudly. “I’m hungover. Lights are loud. Your voice is louder.”

Heather jabbed the lobby button harder than necessary. “You're giving 'douchebag' all too well.”

He didn’t blink. Might’ve been the glasses. “That’s funny. Coming from the woman who looks like she woke up after an adderall bender.”

“Fuck you.”

"Not with that attitude."

"Then choke on glass."

He grinned, teeth too white for someone claiming to be that hungover. “Nice go-to. You serving it plain, or should I expect a cube or two for garnish?”

She side-eyed him, deadpan. “I’ll chill the whole damn shard for you.”

He chuckled, low and smug. “Spicy this early in the morning. Adorable.”

She didn’t answer, just crossed her arms tighter across her chest and stared at the floor numbers ticking down too slowly for her liking. The silence stretched thick with mutual annoyance.

“I gotta say though,” Jackson said, breaking it anyway, “you do grumpy better than anyone I’ve met.”

Heather’s jaw tensed. “You’re lucky I don’t code viruses for sport.”

He made a dramatic show of clutching his chest. “Be still, my tragic heart.”

The elevator dinged. Doors opened.

She stepped out first, refusing to look at him.

Behind her, he called out, “Hey, if you want to carve my death sentence into my door, just ask for my full name.”

Heather flipped him off without turning around.

The building lobby was quiet—thankfully. Heather stepped through the glass doors and into the biting morning air, tugging her oversized red hoodie tighter around her. She was barely awake, hair in a high, messy knot, hoodie half zipped over a sports bra, Adidas shorts just peeking beneath the hem, and black crew socks shoved into plastic slides. Not a look she’d ever choose to be perceived in. But caffeine was life or death.

Her phone buzzed. Order dropped off.

She spotted the delivery guy by the curb with a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard drink tray in the other. She moved to intercept, pulling her hoodie hood further over her head like she could disappear into it.

“Hey—Heather?” the delivery guy asked, glancing between the names on the receipt. “And… Jackson?”

Before she could respond, the door behind her swung open with a gust of warm air and the smell of cologne and regret.

“Yo, that’s me,” came the voice she’d already spent too much of her brainpower hating this week.

She didn’t need to look to know.

Then his eyes—well, probably his eyes—shifted toward Heather. “We really gotta stop meeting like this.”

Heather gawked at him. “You order from Mildew?”

Jackson shrugged, plucking his own iced coffee. “Their cold brew's the only thing stronger than my regrets.”

"-- And a protein wrap." the delivery guy read his order receipt.

"Thank you."

Heather grimaced, “God, even your breakfast order is pretentious.”

The delivery guy awkwardly extended both drink trays. “Uh… you guys want to split this up?”

Heather grabbed hers, iced americano with two caramel shots and a tiny pastry bag. Jackson took his with one hand and tore open the bag like it owed him rent.

“You know,” he said, tearing a bite of rap, “you could’ve just told me you wanted to grab coffee together.”

She scoffed. “I’d rather snort sawdust.”

“Hmm.” He chewed slowly, sunglasses tilted as he clearly scanned her from hoodie to socks. “Is that your way of saying this is your morning look? ‘Unapproachable with a hint of homicide’?”

She took a sip of her drink and stared him down over the lid. “This is the look of someone who works. Unlike you, I’m guessing.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, I work hard enough to afford the noise complaints.”

She turned on her heel. “Try that line again when you’re not dressed like a hungover gym rat.”

Jackson called after her, amused and unapologetic: “Hey! Want me to order you glass with extra ice next time?”

She didn’t bother flipping him off this time. She just hoped the coffee kicked in before she accidentally committed a felony.

Heather cut through the lobby, legs moving with purpose, sipping her coffee like it could save her soul. Her slides slapped the tile with quiet urgency as she beelined toward the elevator. Behind her, she heard Jackson exchange a few pleasantries with the delivery guy—of course he was charming when he wasn’t being a complete walking migraine.

She reached the elevator, thumb jamming the ‘up’ button with a vengeance. A second later, the doors slid open with a slow mechanical sigh.

She stepped inside.

From across the lobby, she heard, “Hold up!”

Nope.

She hit the ‘close door’ button with the kind of speed that could win arcade games. The doors began their slow, deliberate slide inward.

Jackson jogged up, protein wrap still half in his mouth, coffee in hand, sweats slung low on his hips like they were allergic to tension.

“Hey! Heather!” he said around the bite.

She didn’t even look up. Just muttered, “Work hours only, gym rat.”

The doors closed on his groan of disbelief—and, she hoped, his dumb, smug grin.

For the first time that morning, she smiled.

Just a little.