#content: studio k

[atzupdates]

[231130] Eunchae Star Diary Twitter Update with SAN and JONGHO

[studio-k-creation]

Kawaii uniform set for child (sims 4)

base game / new mesh by me

download

[starryeyed-apple]

birthday indulgences

the kiss we silently swore never to talk about again...

summary: years ago, on your birthday, you & caleb shared a forbidden moment. it isn't until his birthday that all those hidden desires are finally indulged in.

★pairing: caleb x fem!reader ★wc: 3.5k ★content: fluff & smut. drunk first kiss & grinding in the memory, caleb panics, a tiny bit of angst. sloppy makeouts, spit kink, dry humping, coming in pants, desperate & subby caleb, overstimulation. caleb calls reader pipsqueak, baby, honey and love. reader calls caleb baby. ★a/n: I love that theory that the kiss they don't talk about happened when they were younger, and then I thought ooo I could do a parallel with this. it was supposed to be sweet and it turned smutty, but it's still sweet. I'll probably do a more intimate version of their first time once his card is out! ★masterlist ★read on ao3

You couldn't believe you had actually gotten Caleb to go along with your plan.

When you'd told him you needed a break from your college campus, and that you wanted to go out and get drunk in Skyhaven for your birthday, he was already nodding along on the video call.

"Alright, pipsqueak," he agreed with a grin. "I'll tag along and take care of you. Gotta make sure you're staying hydrated."

"No, no, no." You shook your head, grinning wickedly when he cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "You're going with me."

He arches an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Uhh, earth to pipsqueak, did you not hear what I just said? I am going—"

"Nooo," you interrupt, wagging your finger. "You're going drinking with me."

He'd sputtered, complained and argued all he wanted, but he had agreed to every one of your terms by the time you hung up the call.

And here you were, tipsy and laying back on the floor of his Aerospace Academy assigned studio apartment, watching the ceiling fan spin while you both giggled over something you can't quite remember.

You glance over at where Caleb's sprawled out beside you, smiling at the happy, hazy look in his eyes that surely matches your own. It was impossible to see him ever completely loosen up, and this was the best birthday gift you could've asked for.

Then your thoughts immediately take a different direction when he licks his lips.

They're too dry. You know because you'd jokingly held him down as you swiped your own chapstick across them countless times.

And you'd caught him running his thumb over his cracked bottom lip, tongue darting out across the lingering taste of you when he thought you weren't looking.

Your whole face feels too hot suddenly, blood rushing so fast through your ears that you can't even hear the idle sounds of Skyhaven late at night that drift up through the cracked window.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss someone.

To have their lips press to yours, all tentative and sweet. To know that liking them wasn't in vain, that hoping they felt the same way wasn't just a daydream you'd kept hidden for years. To see the adoration in their eyes when they pull back and caress your cheek.

Purple eyes with an orange sheen.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss Caleb.

"Caleb," you whine, watching the dopey smile grow on his face at your voice. "Am I too old to have never been kissed?"

Caleb's eyes widen, flashing to yours.

"I—" he blinks rapidly, and you giggle at the rare occasion of having caught him completely off guard. "What?"

"Kiss-ing," you draw out, tapping your lips with each letter you spell out for him, "k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

Caleb watches each tap with rapt attention, so captivated that his own lips slowly part. A bit of drool collects at the corner of them, and your vision goes hazy before he quickly looks away.

"Oh." He sounds breathless, clearing his throat to steady his voice. "Uh, I dunno, pipsqueak. I mean, I'm older than you and I've never kissed anyone. Is that weird?"

He gives a little laugh, but you hear the stiff edge to it, can see the uncertainty haunting the façade of his easy expression.

"Really?" you roll over onto you stomach, propping your chin onto your palms.

Your legs kick behind you, and he glances at you and away again.

After a stretch of awkward silence, he turns onto his side, meeting your gaze.

"I mean, yeah," he mutters, shrugging one shoulder. "Why would I?"

You look down at his never-been-kissed lips, feeling your blood rush to your head when he bites them.

Your eyes dart back down, watching his necklace brush against the floor from the angle he lays at.

"Sooo…you've never wanted to kiss anybody?" you ask, trying to seem casual, even as your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt when he shifts closer.

"I didn't say that," Caleb mutters, and you go rigid.

"Oh."

You flop back onto your back, glaring up at the ceiling fan before he can notice how your brows have pinched, your mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Pips?" Caleb pokes at your cheek, and you pout, turning on your side away from him. "What's got you all frowny-faced?"

"Nothing," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Uh-huuuh."

He pokes at your back, then your side, until his fingers are lightly tickling at your ribs. You giggle, kicking your feet out at him.

"Caleb, stooop," you whine, pushing back at him as he tries to tug you back over to face him.

"C'mon, pips," he teases, pinching your waist, and you squeak. "Why won't you look at me?"

Flipping over to smack him, you accuse with totally justified, totally sober and coherent anger, "I'm mad at you, dummy!"

He blinks, and you try and not melt at how cute he looks like this—drunk and flushed, with those big confused puppy dog eyes.

"Why?"

Instead of answering him directly, you ask, "Was it the girl in your chemistry class?"

"The—" Caleb blinks again, shifting back in surprise. "What?"

"That you wanted to kiss sooo badly." You frown, crossing your arms again. "The one who copied off your homework, and you were too nice to stop her. Or was it the guy who always tried to beat your track record?"

"Pips—"

"Or the cheerleader captain? Or is it somebody at university, huh? Are you sneaking around making googly eyes at the other pilots?"

"Oh, quit it." Caleb rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand over his forehead with an unamused huff. "I didn't want to kiss any of them. I don't want to."

"Then who?" You push yourself up, and he sits up to match your restless energy. He always rises to that familiar challenge in your eyes, pulling when you push. "Who exactly is just so damn special that you're still saving that kiss for them?"

Caleb's eyes flash, and he leans up and over you until his large frame is surrounding you completely.

"Maybe it's someone I like with a bratty mouth," he snaps, gently pinching your lips shut between calloused fingers.

Your wide eyes meet his blazing ones, and you both freeze.

His fingers loosen on your lips, and your lashes flutter.

He watches your eyes dilate, then looks down to where he gingerly brushes his fingers along the seam of your lips, his breath audibly hitching when they part for him.

Caleb's lids fall heavy over his darkening gaze. Your breath speeds up in your chest. He looks from your lips to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

And when you glance down at his own mouth, you're both crashing into each other.

Your first kiss with your childhood friend, your best friend, was anything but the magical one you had just been daydreaming about.

This was sloppy and needy, all tongue and spit and teeth. Years of emotion you didn't know how to unpack began to unravel at the seams, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you as you fall back onto the floor.

Neither of you knew what you were doing, only that you were desperate for more. His hands grab at your waist, slipping down to your thighs briefly, and snapping back up when he realized what he was touching.

Then his arms are wrapping around you, corded muscles tightening to hold you close to him as you squirm from all the years of pent up tension.

Your lips meet his again and again, needy sounds filling the air. His own spit dribbles down your chin as Caleb licks into your mouth and moans against your tongue.

Your foot trails up his leg, wrapping around his calf, and he mindlessly grabs at it, hoisting it up until it was wrapping securely around his hip. The fabric of your skirt rides up, and you jolt when you feel the growing bulge in his jeans rub against the thin fabric of your dampening panties.

The sensation is brief, then harder, until you're rolling against each other in a delirious haze of desperation.

He's mumbling something incoherent into your lips, teeth sinking into the soft flesh until you feel it start to break, and you moan his name.

Caleb jerks back, eyes wide and pupils swallowing all the purple except for the thinnest ring around the edge. His chest heaves, kiss-swollen lips forming soundless words.

Lips swollen from your kisses.

You whine, reaching for him as he begins to panic, de-tangling himself from you.

"No," you beg, trying to tug him back as he gently pulls your grabbing hands away. "No no no—"

"Pips, you're—" his voice is ragged, and he sucks in a deep breath.

His eyes are wild, darting around at everything but you, even as he tugs your skirt back down around your waist. His cheeks blaze red when he steals another quick look at the ruined panties underneath, the soaked fabric with a lacy band, before he turns away in shame.

"You're drunk," he breathes, shaking his head sharply.

"I'm not—"

"I'm drunk." Caleb laughs, disbelief coating the sound, long fingers running through his hair until it's sticking up in all directions. "Shit. Fuck. This wasn't—this wasn't supposed to happen—"

Your body begins to defensively curl inwards, and you blink quickly to try and keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.

Caleb finally dares a glance back at you, going from flushed to shockingly pale in seconds.

"No, no, pipsqueak—"

"No, it's fine," you sniff, pushing yourself up and scooting back against the floor. "I get it. You…you didn't want it to be me. I get it."

"No, no no no," he keeps mumbling the word the entire time you're moving away, and suddenly Caleb's on his hands and knees, crawling after you with those big, sad puppy dog eyes. "No, pips, that's not what I meant—"

"It's fine, Caleb."

"It's not fine," he insists, resting the side of his cheek against the top of your knees. His eyes are wide and wet, begging for you to just look at him. "You heard what I said. Who I said. Who I…wanted."

His voice gets impossibly quiet, and Caleb's honest gaze begs for your attention.

But you're too fixated by the dark indentation your teeth had left in his lips, the shine on them that could've been your saliva or his.

"It's just not a good idea, pips," he whispers, and you flinch, followed by his own grimace. "Shit, no, that sounded bad. It's just because—"

He stops, shaking his head, palm covering his face.

"I can't think straight," he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers. With a sigh, he drops his hand onto your knee, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. His voice is so gentle, so Caleb, but it still grates at your sensitive nerves right now. "I think we both just need to sleep this off. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You sniff, still not meeting his eyes completely.

"No, we wont," you mumble, even as you let yourself be gently directed towards his bed.

He's silent as he helps you prepare for sleep, even as he moves to sleep on his little couch, opting for his long legs to cramp up on the furniture instead of cuddling with you. The tension radiates off him at your accusation—because he knows you're right.

"We'll never talk about it again."

But here you are, years later, in the same situation as before.

You're both sober this time. You're older, maybe wiser, and scarred from being torn apart before coming back together.

But the way Caleb looks at you has never changed. Like you hung the stars in the sky, like you were the moon the sun chased with every morning.

He doesn't shy away when you look at him just the same. He doesn't pull back now, doesn't keep his longing locked away when your thumb brushes his lips, collecting the residue of the candy you'd fed him.

You wanted today to be a special birthday for him. You wanted to give him everything he'd ever wanted.

"Remember when you kissed me?" you breathe, and his eyes flash in surprise at what you'd silently sworn to never speak of again, beautiful lashes fluttering at your exhale across his lips. "On my birthday?"

He laughs, a little quiet huff of air, and his shock melts to something knowing. Something you'd both always known, deep down.

"You kissed me," he accuses, all low and sultry in his teasing, and you shiver.

You smile, your thumb caressing the corner of his lips.

It didn't matter who had kissed who anymore, who pulled back from who. You'd still ended up where you both belonged.

Caleb gazes up at you, awestruck when your eyes darken.

"Then you knew I wanted it," you whisper, nose bumping against his. "So why did you stop?"

You lean in slowly, giving him a moment to pull away if he still wanted to, if he still needed time. He'd given you all the time in the world, after all. You'd happily wait for him, too.

But then Caleb's lips are on yours, and everything finally feels right.

He tastes like sour lemon candy, and you whine, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He moans, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck me," he groans under his breath, and you laugh between the kisses that heat up between you.

"If you insist," you murmur, smirking into his mouth when his hips jerk up into yours.

The whimper that leaves his lips is quiet and needy, and you eagerly swallow it down.

"Don't tease me like that, baby," Caleb rasps, and your own hips roll in his lap at that low huskiness to his voice.

His hands tighten on your hips, stilling you. You pause, wondering if you'd taken it too far.

But then he's directing you, pulling your legs around to straddle him completely. He guides you into a deeper roll, and you both moan.

You sink down onto him with slow grinds, the hem of your dress hiding just how quickly your panties were getting wet. In the rosy haze of growing pleasure, you wonder how long it'll take to soak that erection he's been sporting since you walked in the room.

"Didn't even try and hide how hard you were when I came in," you whisper into your languid, sensual kissing. "Did you?"

Caleb's hand slips down, cupping your ass easily in his rough palm and long fingers. You moan when he squeezes it, followed by a squeak of surprise at his gentle, experimental smack to it.

"You can't talk like that, pips," he pants, head tilting back against the couch. His voice is that delicious shade of darkness when he adds, "God, you can't make those sounds either. I won't last long if you do."

His eyes are hazy as he watches you lean down, kissing along the elegant slope of his neck. You stop at the harsh bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps, and your teeth graze along it, humming at the moan you feel vibrate there.

"I've thought about that kiss for years," Caleb gasps, hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed to him. His hips lazily roll up into yours, his eyes rolling back into his head when he suddenly bucks up once. "Every time I—"

He cuts himself off, biting at his already swollen lips with a blush.

You smile, devious in your intent, and his mouth falls open when your hidden possessive streak unfolds.

"Every time you—" you leave your question hanging, letting the way you begin to bounce in his lap be the answer.

"You—" Caleb chokes, gripping your hips.

His eyes glue to the motion of your hips flexing under your dress, ass coming up and smacking back down against the strength of his large thighs. You feel him twitch through his jeans, and you moan along with him.

"F-fuck," he groans, mouth hanging open, the tip of his tongue falling out.

You lean forward, collecting the saliva in your mouth. Realizing what you're doing, Caleb tilts his head up and sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and dilated.

You let your spit pool onto his tongue, and he takes it eagerly, swallowing it down with a whine and a thrust of his hips.

"I've thought about it, too," you breathe, and his lidded eyes flicker between your face and where you're shamelessly humping him. "Every single time. Even when I'm not trying to. But when I'm touching myself—"

"Oh fuck—"

"And I'm trying to come, all I can think about is how warm you were and your spit in my mouth—"

"B-baby," Caleb stutters, his head lolling to the side, unfocused eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head with each dry slap and grind of your hips against his. "Please, please—"

"I always think of kissing you when I'm coming—"

"Coming," Caleb gasps, and you think he's just mindlessly repeating you until you notice how rigid he's gotten, completely still and flushed bright red as he moans, "oh, fuck, I'm coming—"

And you can feel it, the sticky warmth flooding into the front of his jeans, seeping into you as you gasp. You grind down against his throbbing cock underneath the stifling fabric, wishing you were taking every drop of his cum instead, not letting a bit of it go to waste.

Caleb whines, crying out softly as you roll your hips, and you swallow every pretty sound with hot kisses until your clothed clit catches on his ruined jeans just right.

"Oh fuck, there—" you gasp, lips messily attached to his. You feel the tears of pleasure and overstimulation streaming down his face as he bucks up into you still. "Caleb, Caleb—"

"Come," he begs, and your eyes meet his. Your hips falter at the unadulterated affection there before you speed up, breath hitching when you feel yourself being to crest over into mind-numbing pleasure. "Come for me, honey, please come for me love please—"

Your eyes pinch shut, and you cry out for him when the orgasm hits you all at once, all your limbs seizing up as you convulse in his lap.

"Oh fuck there, there it is," Caleb grunts, grabbing at your trembling thighs under your dress, moaning when he feels your slick that had dripped down them. "You're coming, you're actually coming—"

Your pussy flutters and tightens in your soaked panties, and you moan, wondering what it would have felt like if you had had the foresight to tug his cock out of his pants, if your precious Caleb had filled you up before you came around him.

Next time, you think in a haze, giggling breathlessly when you realize there was an endless number of next times now.

Caleb's lips meet yours, and you meet each kiss as they slow into something lazy and content. He keeps leaning closer and closer to you, his hand cupping the back of your head, protecting you when you both end up weakly tumbling to the ground, and you laugh.

Your eyes are warm and shining with joy when you look up at him, pulling him down for another kiss, and another, because they were all yours now. Every kiss, every moment.

It was the same messy meeting of tongue and spit and teeth from that unspoken moment years ago, except this time, he wouldn't pull away.

"When do we get to do that again?" you gasp, and he laughs too, bright and happy and maybe, finally at some semblance of peace.

"Whenever you want it," Caleb hums, pulling back to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheekbone, your eyelashes, all the way up to your temple and back down to your lips again.

"Well," you start, grinning as your loop your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you in befuddled admiration, like he couldn't believe you were really here. "You're the birthday boy."

There's a subtle shift in his eyes, suddenly shining with vulnerability when he asks, "But you want it?"

"Oh," you whisper, brushing at the leftover tears that cling to his long lashes. You kiss them when his eyes shut, your nose nuzzling against his.

Dummy, you think fondly. Worried you didn't want any more when you just had the best orgasm of your life, just from dry humping his lap.

When you'd been dreaming of doing this for years. When you would've been happy if all he wanted was just a kiss.

But his post-nut shyness was sweet, even if coupled with that deep-rooted fear that when he closed his eyes, you'd disappear. And your heart was too full of love not to reassure him.

So you banished the shadows that haunted the corners of his mind with another gentle kiss, pressing all your love for him into it.

"Of course I want it, Caleb," you murmur, smiling up at him. "You're all I've ever wanted."

He sighs, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This one is unhurried, an intimate promise between you.

"Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, and he smiles.

[holybibly]

♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: pornstar Seonghwa х pornstar reader

♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a few years in the porn industry, you've developed a certain routine and a general understanding of what you like in the bedroom. But a new scene with the trendy, glamorous Park Seonghwa and his art porn studio Pink Star Production will turn your head. Or Seonghwa fucking your throat with his very long tongue, and it's definitely a sight to behold.

♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: smut, pornstar!AU

♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI

♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.8 k

♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, sex work, voyeurism, exhibitionism, face fucking, spit kink, tongue fucking, lots of sperm/saliva, fingering, pet names, dirty talk, oral, praise kink, squirt, pussy slapping, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more.

♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

♡ 𝔄|𝔑: So my bunnies, this is what you've all been waiting for. We're starting this year with a new universe and something completely unique and fresh. This is my special gift to you sugar babies, so stock up on fresh panties and your favourite toys, because Pink Star Productions is presenting its new film

♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.

♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible

"Be a good girl for me, angel, and open that pretty little mouth of yours." Seonghwa purrs sultrily as he runs the tips of his long, elegant fingers along the contours of your swollen, reddened lips from the blowjob. You don't hesitate to obey his sensual command. Your kissable, plump lips, still moist and glistening with a mixture of sperm, saliva, and viscous pink cotton candy-flavoured lip gloss, open for him with ease, soft and trembling like flower petals, giving Seonghwa a glimpse of the sharp tip of your tongue sticking out between your teeth. A dirty, smug grin flashes across Hwa's handsome face as he sees how obediently and easily you carry out his every command, and for a moment he just looks down at you, admiring the sweet, fucked expression on your lovely face. He should be thanking his great agent for inviting you to participate in this shoot, although Seonghwa isn't surprised; after all, Wooyoung knows exactly what kind of girls he likes to fuck. "Stick out your tongue and don't swallow; I want to see you drooling for me, gorgeous."

You slowly stick your tongue out of your mouth and stare at Seonghwa unabashedly through the thick lace of your long, doll-like eyelashes, covered in a thick coat of pink mascara with large silver glitter dots. Your already flushed cheeks blush further as one of Hwa's long fingers slips into the warm, inviting wetness of your mouth, and you give a barely audible moan as you feel the honeyed saltiness of his golden skin on your tongue. The first finger is quickly followed by a second and then a third, and you clutch your lips lightly around them. The long phalanges press harder against the base of your soft tongue because of what his fingertips sliding deeper into your throat. The silky, narrow walls quiver slightly at the intrusion, in a reflexive attempt to push the long appendages out, but you still keep your mouth open and motionless.

Seonghwa languidly strokes your delicate, slippery tongue, groping the inside of your cheeks, tracing the ridges of your palate and the rows of small, pearly teeth before his fingertips slip back into the depths of your throat. Your saliva runs copiously down the length of his phalanges into the palm of his hand. It dripping from the corners of your mouth, falling in thick droplets from the edge of your jaw onto your tits covered with bite marks and dark purple hickeys. You cover your eyes and open your sticky, plump lips wider for Seonghwa as you let him play with your mouth the way he wants to.

From the side, this scene looks so fucking stunning—dirty, wet, lewd—but despite all that, there's still a certain exquisite eroticism and perverse luxury that's an essential part of sex-art films. And that's what makes Pink Star Productions' films so popular and highly rated, although you have to admit that Seonghwa's beautiful, wiry cock and fuckable mouth played no small part in this. Fucking Seonghwa was like fucking a god, but in contrast to the second one, Hwa liked to spray his cum on the face instead of the pussy.

Through the loud sounds of Hwa's hoarse, lingering moans and sighs, mixed with your heavy breathing and the wet, gurgling sound you make as you choke around the long fingers shoved down your throat, you can hear the praise and enthusiastic comments from the staff about how this film is going to make them a hell of a lot of money and how you and Seonghwa look perfect in the frame. You mentally pat yourself on the back and say, 'Well done, babe, you're doing a great job. Keep fucking." And you relax completely, plunging headlong into the sensation of Hwa's long fingers insistently riding in your pliable mouth.

"Ah, my baby angel, just look at you; you've made such a big mess. The sweet little slut has been drooling for me." Thin, stringy strands of drool stretch from your lips to Seonghwa's fingertips as he pulls long appendages from your warm mouth.

He brings his fingers, smeared with a mixture of drool and sugary lip gloss, up to his fuckable mouth, only to obscene move his tongue between them in a graphic imitation of greedy, skilful cunt licking. This messy but no less sexy spectacle makes your pussy clench around nothing, causing even more clear, viscous fluid to spurt from your quivering little hole, soaking your folds and coating your plump labia with a sticky glaze. Seonghwa does this a few more times, each one more lewd and dirty than the last; it's such a sinful sight you almost want to cover your eyes in embarrassment. His eyes roll back in pleasure, and Hwa moans so loudly and lewdly as if you were once again holding his firm, velvety testicles in your moist, warm mouth, caressing and licking them with your tongue while the pad of your thumb rubs the swollen, dark pink head of his beautiful, thick cock.

Seonghwa, tilting his head slightly to the side, looks up at you with heavy siren eyes, his tongue continuing to slide relentlessly between his spread V-shaped fingers, and you know exactly what his gaze means. Your hand slides between your juicy, thick thighs to run its fingers around your swollen, flushed clit, shamelessly caressing yourself to the sound of Hwa's pornographic moans, before you slap your dainty palm on your plump, sticky cunt a few times, causing you to squirt immediately.

"Ah, f-fuck... Seonghwa. I feel so goddamn good..." You sob loudly as you rub the entire surface of your palm quickly and sloppily over your trembling, tender folds, splashing your juices around even more intensely. "Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good.".

"Mmm, it really is, my precious baby angel." Seonghwa purrs and smiles at you lustfully. "But words are not enough. Don't be shy, gorgeous. Show me that sweet little cunt of yours." He languidly licks his fuckable, filthy mouth, watching unashamedly as your fingers obediently pull your plump labia apart to expose your tight, oozing-with-arousal hole. "What a lovely pink cunt you have there, my angel. You know, darling, cunts like yours I like to fuck raw.Fuck, just the thought of your sweet, tender hole licking my cock as I pull you onto my thick length like a fucking glove could make me cum. I bet you'd be the perfect sleeve for my cock." Seonghwa's voice is deep and husky, and your skin is tingling with excitement, as if he's sending a faint charge of electricity through it. There's a hungry look on his devilishly handsome face, his lush lips curling into a sensual smile, his dark, glossy eyes glittering like bottomless black holes, seductive and dangerous, and you catch your breath at the sight of him.

He looks like a goddamn deity, and you can barely contain your excitement as you continue to act like a professional, trying your best to restrain yourself from starting to beg him to fuck you right here and now.

Seonghwa's entire body is glistening with the luxurious shimmering oil, drops of sweat dripping down the smooth relief of his heaving chest and his pronounced six-pack abs. The massive girth of his beautiful cock presses perfectly against his flat stomach; a clear, viscous liquid oozes from the swollen, dark pink head and trickles down the silky length, coating it with a thick layer of glaze, making his cock gleam faintly in the dim light of the film set. You want to take it back into your mouth to suck it like candy, and you unconsciously lick your lips, hoping to taste his cum on your tongue again. From the outside, Hwa looks so relaxed and at ease, but you can see how the golden muscles of his thighs are quivering and tensing with suppressed excitement underneath the smooth, wet, heated skin.

You and Seonghwa still have a few scenes to shoot before you get to the main part of the film, the one where he fucks you with his big, wiry cock, and damn, you hope that Hwa will do exactly what he said he would do—fuck you raw. Well, in the meantime, Hwa's two long fingers are slipping between your slutty lips again and he starts to fuck you in your mouth to the sweet rhythm of your moaning and whimpering. Seonghwa moves his fingers back and forth, over and over again, riding your tongue with them, occasionally thrusting them so deep into your throat that you begin to choke. The soft, slippery walls of your throat clench around the long, elegant appendages, either wanting to push them out or the opposite, wanting to let them in even deeper.

'Oh God...Hwa.' You let out a breath as he gives you a brief pause, giving you a chance to get your breathing back to normal and to swallow the drool that has collected in your mouth. You can barely remember your lines and the story as a whole; your brain is practically refusing to function, and all your thoughts are unfocused and confused. All you can concentrate on is the hot, tugging feeling of arousal in the pit of your stomach and how badly you want to be fucked in all your holes. "Seonghwa, I need this so much... please..." You fall silent, feigning innocence, and shyly bite down on your plump lower lip.

"And what do you want, my slutty little angel?' Seonghwa asks, running the tip of his long, pointed tongue over his fuckable, overly plump lips in anticipation. And even though he knows exactly what you are going to ask him, it doesn't make the whole situation any less dirty and erotic.

"Mmm, Seonghwa... I want...' You stopped speaking halfway through the sentence, paused dramatically, and looked at Seonghwa with big, wet eyes through your thickly painted pink eyelashes. ‘I want to...’ You start again, sugary pouting your swollen lips, and you hope that your mouth smeared with drool, cum, and glistening lip gloss looks good enough to make anyone watching this film want to spurt their cum on your tongue. ‘I want your tongue, please, Hwa.’

"Ah, so that's what this is about, angel. You want my tongue, don't you? You know, beautiful, you should be more specific about what you want, baby. You want to feel my tongue deep inside your needy little cunt, or maybe I should tickle your pretty, sweet clit. Oh, I know, baby, I bet you're thinking about me spreading your thick, juicy cheeks and licking you between them, or would it be better if I rubbed my tongue over your firm, tantalising nipples, huh? There are so many things I can do to you, angel." Seonghwa purrs, and in the deep, velvety tone of his voice, there's a sensual promise of the dirtiest and hottest pleasures that sends shivers of excitement through your body.

Oh shit, that sounds way too kinky and filthy, even for a porno. How the hell are you supposed to stay professional and stick to the script when he talks to you like that? Sure, you've heard rumours that Seonghwa was damn good at dirty talk and had an amazing way with words, but you couldn't even imagine that much. Fuck, this stunning pink star really did have a magnificent, skilful mouth, and not only when it came to eating pussy.

'I... I want to...' You stammer out the words a little, shyly lowering your eyes to the ground and pretending that you're really embarrassed by what you're about to ask him to do. From the outside, you have an almost innocent look on your face, which fits the story perfectly, but all your actions and words are nothing more than an exquisite illusion—if you and Hwa were alone right now, you'd have been riding on his cock or that unjustly beautiful face a long time ago. "I... I want you to fuck my throat with your tongue." You breathe out softly. The honeyed tone of your voice licks against golden, sweaty Seonghwa's skin, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice his cock twitching at the luscious, sticky notes in your words, and you barely hold back a victorious, smug grin, instead pouting your pretty lips even more and spreading your legs wider for him so that Hwa can enjoy the sight of your glistening, sugar nectar oozing from your little cunt. "Please, Seonghwa... I want it so bad..." You add even more softly.

'There you are, my angel." The deep, velvety sound of Seonghwa's voice reminds you of the seductive purr of a big cat of prey. He stretches his hand out to your face, running the knuckles of his graceful fingers over your soft, flushed cheek in a loving gesture. "How can I say no to you when you are behaving in such an obedient and sweet manner towards me?" Songhwa's touch was barely perceptible against your flushed, heated skin—airy and weightless, yet there was something so sinful and solid about it all that it almost made you lose your mind.

You can barely keep yourself from falling into subspace from all the sensual, lustful, purring praise flying off from Hwa's lush, unjustly beautiful lips. Every single letter he utters feels more like a lingering, scalding kiss that takes your breath away and makes your toes curl. But in Seonghwa's case, it's more like the feel of a skilled tongue sliding roughly and insatiably over your swollen clit, or the slight burning sensation of stretching as the thick, swollen head of his cock slowly pushes into your tight, needy cunt.

Fuck, it seems like you still haven't fully recovered from the feelings and emotions you felt during your last shoot with Yunho, and right now it's all just intensified, fuelled by Seonghwa's dark sexual energy. Now you should be more careful and make sure that you don't fall into your submissive subspace. You're also making a mental note to warn your agent never to schedule another shoot with that fucking slutty siren in the future right after you've had your brains completely fucked by a professional hardcore dom.

But you don't have too much time to think about it, because Seonghwa has stopped caressing your face and has wrapped his elegant hand around your thin, delicate neck instead. His grip tightens, and his magnetic, glossy-black eyes flash with childish delight as his actions cause a faint, treacherous half moan of pure ecstasy to erupt from your chest.

And maybe his hand wasn't as big as Yunho's to almost completely wrap around your neck, or as rough and possessive as Mingi's, but still, you had to admit, Hwa was doing an excellent job of effectively choking you to the point where black dots began to appear in your peripheral vision and fireworks began to erupt under your skin. You are absolutely sure that if he were to spit in your mouth right now, you would come without being touched.

But you know you should keep this hot fantasy to yourself, at least for now, and maybe the next time you make a film for Pink Star Productions, Seonghwa will fuck you like a bitch in heat—rough and hard, choking you and spitting in your mouth and pussy and maybe even on your tits, as he will stuff all your holes with his amazingly thick, sinewy cock.

This image is so vivid and real in your mind that your pretty pussy tingles with sensual anticipation. It spurting out a fresh batch of viscous fluid that coats your lecherously open labia with a transparent glaze. You're sure that your cunt looks so appetising right now that you'd lick yourself if you could. And it makes you wish that you and Hwa would just move on to the next scene where he pushes his beautiful, divine face between your legs.

However, if you don't get to shoot a cunnilingus scene today, you can take the shameless, cheeky vixen who concurrently is Seonghwa's assistant home with you. And you have to say that Wooyoung looks just as attractive and fuckable as his employer, so you won't be too upset if he is the one whose face you bury in your cunt tonight.

"Come on, baby angel, open that little mouth of yours." Seonghwa orders you once more, and this time there's nothing but pure sex in his deep voice. He doesn't have to repeat himself twice, because your lips are parted at once, and your soft tongue is sticking out just to meet the flow of warm, viscous saliva that Hwa is spitting into your expectant mouth. He purrs contentedly at the sight of the thick drop of liquid rolling down your rosy, silky appendage. "Swallow, gorgeous." And you obey, greedily swallowing everything he's given you. "You're the sweetest, most obedient girl, aren't you? Keep it up and I'll let you call me Mommy."

Oh fuck, and here you were thinking that Seonghwa couldn't get any hotter, but Hwa seemed to be ready to prove you wrong. You weren't new to this; you've been in a couple of movies with the 'mommy' kink in boys before, and the last one was literally a couple of weeks ago. You have to say it was a fucking incredible experience. When you first met Yeosang on set, you were expecting you and him to have another 'vanilla' scene, with a meagre and simple set of positions and a classic creampie. But hell, you had no idea that this enchanting Tinker Bell would fuck you so hard you literally couldn't walk. And the way he made you rub your pussy against his gorgeous, chiselled abs until you squirted all over him as he spanked your tits and fingered your mouth, you're not even starting to talk about it. So the thought of what Mommy Seonghwa might be able to do to you is making your cunt quiver.

You hold your breath as Seonghwa suddenly leans so close to your face that you can feel his hot, wet breath washing over your open, pink mouth. This is it, damn it; he's going to fuck your mouth with his tongue right now.

'Please...' You whimper into his luxurious, pornographic mouth, and you don't know if you're following the script or if you're really begging him. But whatever it is, it doesn't matter at all, especially when Seonghwa's long, slippery tongue slides a little roughly between your lips and takes up residence in the warm, inviting wetness of your craving mouth.

At the first touch of his hot, wet appendage against your tongue, you let out a high, obscene moan that turns into a pitiful whimper as Seonghwa insistently pushes his tongue deeper past your lips, filling all the small space of your mouth that you have to offer him. He slides further along your tongue and deeper into your throat, and you start to choke, but Hwa's elegant hand on your neck holds you in place, preventing you from pulling away.

Enough drool pours from your open mouth that it begins to drip down your face and onto your large, plump tits. It runs down the soft flesh in clear, cooling streams until your saliva covers your hard, swollen nipples with a glistening layer of moisture.

You are so lost in the sensation of Seonghwa's feverishly hot breath and soft, long tongue that you are completely unaware of the way his free hand reaches up to your breast to run his fingertips over your pretty, sensitive nipples. By now you have become so highly aroused that even this slight stimulation is enough to send a shiver down your entire body and cause a loud sigh of pleasure to escape from you.

The way the walls of your throat move apart at that sound is perfect for Seonghwa's tongue to penetrate even deeper until it's completely inside of you and your lips finally meet in a kinky, dirty kiss. Seonghwa lets out a low, satisfied growl that comes from deep inside his chest, and you can feel how your sticky cunt, bleeding with desire, clenches at the sound of it.

Seonghwa's tongue wriggles down your throat, licking and caressing the hot, quivering walls that contract around the fleshy, skilful appendage. Your own tongue presses against the base of your mouth, moving weakly in a reciprocal caress, hoping to give Hwa exactly the same pleasure you're experiencing right now. You can barely make a sound other than a pitiful whimper, muffled by the long tongue snaking its way down your mouth and throat.

Damn, until today you had no idea that something like this could be so pleasurable, or even possible at all. The whole concept of fucking throat with someone's tongue was pretty dodgy, and you had to ask your agent a few times to make sure you got it right. But God, whether it was because Seonghwa had an incredibly talented, skilful, and very long tongue, or because it was just incredibly pleasurable and you found your new kink, it doesn't matter at all, because you really enjoyed what was going on, and you definitely want to try this with your other sex partners as well.

It seems like an eternity before Hwa pulls away from you, his tongue slipping out of your mouth with an embarrassingly loud squelch and a stream of saliva pouring out of your swollen, exhausted lips almost like a waterfall. And maybe a lot of people would find that disgusting, but not Seonghwa, as he can't help himself but greedily and lewdly lick your mouth, spectacularly licking up all the drool that has mixed with your lusciously sweet lip gloss.

'Seonghwa...' You whisper in a cracked voice. Your lungs are still burning from the lack of oxygen, and your thighs are trembling from the uncomfortable position you've been in for so long, but it's all nothing compared to the incredible feeling of lust and excitement you're experiencing right now.

And maybe all that languid, art porn aesthetic was much worse than the rough and fast hardcore scenario, at least you'd know that your pussy and ass would not be empty for a second in a one-on-one scenes with Hongjoong or Mingi, unlike Seonghwa who seemed to prefer to shake your brains out completely by making you nothing more than his cute, empty-headed cockslut before he filling your hole with his amazing cock. Damn, sometimes you really miss being filmed in a gangbang, when all you had to do was spread your legs and take one cock after another, and sometimes even several at the same time.

As if he could read your mind, Seonghwa lets out a grim chuckle and finally lets go of the palm of his hand on your throat, letting it slide down your body instead, before he slaps your pussy a little viciously, making you squirt for him right away.

'Ah, fuck!' You scream as a stream of liquid spurts out of your quivering hole, splashing everywhere and it gathering in a puddle on the floor beneath you.

"I'm not done with you yet, gorgeous." Hwa whispers in a sultry voice before he presses his lips against your mouth again.

This time it's completely different, his tongue immediately penetrates your mouth completely, wriggling and penetrating deep into your throat like you've never experienced before. What he gave you before was a just preparation for that, but the fucking training season is over and now Seonghwa is absolutely ruthless with you. His hand returns to your neck, only to wrap his fingers tightly around it, choking you and turning your throat into the perfect vessel for his tongue to fuck you with.

You begin to choke again, gurgling and panting as the hot appendage snakes and twists between your tight walls. You love it so much, all that burning, painful sensation mixed with almost euphoric pleasure, and you start to cry, unable to contain yourself. Thick tears flow from your eyes, streaming down your flushed face in a mixture of pink mascara and glitter, and you barely manage to wipe the heavy drops from your doll-like, clumpy eyelashes and lift your eyes up to meet the black, magnetic holes of Seonghwa's irises. Those incredible, fierce siren eyes watch you sob for him with pleasure as you fall apart, sinking into complete and utter submission.

In and out, over and over again, his tongue moving in a strange, serpentine rhythm that you can't understand, but to be honest, you don't really try, not when he pulls away from you for a second just to whisper right into your lips.

"Go and fuck yourself with your sweet fingers, my angel. Squirt for me again, I want to see that pussy all wet and fucked." How the hell are you going to look at other men after that? Okay, maybe you're exaggerating, because there's still San and his awesome nine-inch cock, but still. But that's something you'll have to think about later, because Seonghwa's tongue comes back to your mouth and immediately slides in deeper, and your hand finds a place on your silky, slime-covered folds of your cunt to start caressing yourself as Hwa told you to do.

You try to adjust to the rhythm of the thrust of his tongue down your throat, first inserting a one finger into your tiny, tender hole, quickly followed by a second one, but it's no use as Hwa does something inexplicable in your mouth, literally drinking your breath and completely taking you under his control. You feel as if you're intoxicated, your fingers moving almost automatically, stretching your hole and rubbing against the silky, slippery walls of your pretty cunt. This continues for a few moments before a final hard thrust of Seonghwa's tongue down your throat, accompanied by the pads of your fingers finally pressing against your sweet spot, brings you to orgasm.

Your eyes roll back from the overwhelming, sharp pleasure coursing through your entire body; your hips quiver, your pussy squirts, pushing your fingers out with a copious stream of your juice, and a rough, squeezed sound of ecstasy erupts from deep in your throat. Holy fuck. It's a fucking out-of-body experience. And all because of his tongue; you can't imagine what his cock will do to you then.

As you collapse helplessly in his arms, your throat still tightens and your mouth opens wider so that Hwa can lick you clean one last time. His long tongue wraps around your swollen lips, then your jaw, licking up everything you have to offer and savouring the taste of your skin.

"And, cut!" The director's voice breaks, and the room erupts in loud applause and praise for a job well done.

'Breathe, beautiful.' Seonghwa whispers, and you have to gather what little consciousness and professionalism you have left after such an overwhelming orgasm to look at him and heed his words. You do as Hwa tells you and take a few deep, calm breaths. "You did a great job today, Y/N. Too bad we're running out of time to film cunnilingus tonight, but how about a private rehearsal? And maybe you wouldn't mind if Wooyoung joined us; after all, he was the one who found you."

You turn your head slightly in the direction where the crew and cameramen are crowded around the monitors to watch the replay of your and Hwa's scene tonight. But you have little interest in all these people; your eyes are searching for someone in particular, and when you finally catch a glimpse of the relaxed, slightly cocky figure of Seonghwa's personal assistant, Jung Wooyoung, you are greeted with a lecherous grin and a hot, dark, foxy gaze that can't seem to tear itself away from your heaving bare breasts for more than a second.

"Ooh, I don't mind at all, you know. He seems to have a thing for boobs." You giggle as you pull away from Seonghwa and look around for your robe.

"Here.' Hwa holds a black silk dressing gown in front of you, which you gratefully take from him before you pull the soft, cool material over your heated, naked body. "Hmm, you're right, yes, Woo loves tits, but he has many different sides to him, and I'm more than sure he'd love to show them off tonight."

"That sounds very promising, Hwa." You smile and head for your dressing room. You stop for a moment at the closed door, turn over your shoulder, and give Seonghwa your best seductive smile and heavy bedroom eyes. "And I hope you'll show me your special sides too, Seonghwa. I've been told that a beautiful pink star can easily make someone faint from orgasm; I really hope that's exactly what you're going to do to me tonight."

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @stay-tiny-things @moondanse94 @thyvessel

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part III @yyaurii @infrenchexit @sanniesbum @jaxyy219 @lostxxgirl @m1sss1mp @manipulatedstars @cotton-candycloudz @kienhawon @flowerxsin @londonbridges01 @fluffyyongbokie @sang-09 @hobarihope @sanniesaur @luvbit3z @sanriomilk @s4erin @sanhwalvr @mallielovssyou @slytherinslays @your-bloodbag @cherricola-star @passionandsuga @hwasangel @yyaurii @nevermoreraven1 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unholywriters @mortal-advocate

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

 Chapter 13: Omega Eyes

Yunho had abandoned his gaming session entirely, drawn downstairs by the lingering memory of your purr and chirp, and the irresistible pull of whatever was happening to your omega. Now he sat at the kitchen table, methodically eating the cookies you'd brought him while watching you move around the kitchen with an expression of pure fascination.

You were beautiful like this—completely in your element, humming softly as you flitted from stove to counter to sink with an efficiency that spoke of deep omega satisfaction. Every movement was purposeful yet graceful, your entire being radiating contentment as you prepared what appeared to be enough food to feed an army.

Yunho had been sitting there for nearly an hour, mesmerized by the transformation he was witnessing. This wasn't the professional assistant who carefully managed their schedules and maintained polite boundaries. This was your omega in full domestic mode, nesting and providing with an instinctual drive that was both beautiful and deeply moving to watch.

The sound of the front door opening barely registered until he heard Hongjoong's voice in the hallway, followed by Seonghwa's lower tones. The two had been at the studio working on final touches for their next promotional appearance, but they were home earlier than expected.

"Yunho?" Hongjoong's voice carried a note of confusion as he entered the kitchen and found the younger alpha sitting motionless at the table. "What are you doing?"

"Where’s Y/n? You were supposed to—" Seonghwa began, then stopped abruptly as he followed Hongjoong into the room.

Yunho simply pointed toward where you were standing at the stove, stirring something that smelled absolutely incredible. "Look," he said softly, his voice filled with wonder.

Both alphas turned to follow his gaze, taking in the sight of you moving around the kitchen with that same graceful efficiency Yunho had been watching. At first glance, it might have seemed like simple dinner preparation, but there was something different about your energy, something that made both experienced alphas take notice.

"Her eyes..." Seonghwa breathed, his own gaze sharpening as he focused on your face.

Yunho nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off you. "She's been like this for an hour. Maybe longer."

Hongjoong frowned, studying your movements with growing confusion. "What do you mean, her eyes? What's—"

His question was cut off as you turned to check something in the oven, giving him a clear view of your face for the first time. Hongjoong's words died in his throat as he caught sight of what the others had already noticed.

Your eyes held a soft, dim purple hue that seemed to glow from within—subtle but unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for. Omega eyes. The equivalent of an alpha's golden glow, appearing when an omega's instincts took over and they surrendered to their natural drives.

"Oh," Hongjoong said quietly, the single word carrying a wealth of understanding and something that might have been awe.

All three alphas stood transfixed, watching as you moved through your domestic tasks with that telltale purple shimmer in your gaze. It was beautiful and rare—many omegas never felt safe enough to let their instincts take over so completely, especially not around unfamiliar alphas. The fact that you were doing so here, in their space, was both a gift and a sign of incredible trust.

The moment was broken when you finally noticed their presence. Your face lit up with a genuine smile that made all three alphas' breath catch simultaneously.

"You're home!" you said, your voice carrying a warmth and enthusiasm that seemed to fill the entire kitchen. Without hesitation, you moved toward them, picking up another plate of cookies from the counter as you approached.

"I made cookies," you announced proudly, holding out the plate. The purple in your eyes shimmered brighter as you offered them the fruits of your domestic labor.

Hongjoong accepted a cookie with slightly shaking hands, his alpha responding powerfully to the sight of an omega presenting food she'd made specifically for her pack. "They smell incredible," he managed, his voice rougher than usual.

Seonghwa took one as well, his own hands not entirely steady as he processed what he was witnessing. "Thank you, little one. This is... you've been busy today."

You beamed at their acceptance, that purple glow intensifying with pleasure at their praise. "There's dinner too," you said eagerly, gesturing toward the stove where multiple pots were simmering. "And I did the laundry, and cleaned the living room, and—"

"You've been taking care of us," Yunho interrupted softly, finally finding his voice again. The way he said it—with such reverence and gratitude—made your omega practically purr with satisfaction.

"Of course," you replied, as if there could be no other possible response. The simplicity of your answer, the matter-of-fact way you accepted the role of caretaker, sent a collective shiver of alpha satisfaction through all three men.

Hongjoong bit into his cookie and had to suppress a groan of pleasure at the taste. "These are perfect," he said, and the way your eyes brightened at the compliment was almost blinding. 

You let out a purr at the praise, causing a groan from Yunho and blush from Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa was studying you with that intense focus he brought to understanding the people he cared about. "How long have your eyes been like this?" he asked gently.

You blinked, confusion flickering across your features. "Like what?"

"Purple," Yunho supplied helpfully. "They're glowing purple."

Your hand flew to your face instinctively, as if you could somehow feel the change in your eyes. "They are?"

"It's beautiful," Hongjoong assured you quickly, recognizing the note of uncertainty in your voice. "It means your omega is content. Safe. Happy."

The explanation seemed to reassure you, your smile returning full force. "I do feel happy," you admitted. "Today has been... good. Really good."

"Even after yesterday?" Seonghwa asked carefully, his protective instincts clearly still on high alert.

Your expression softened as you looked at him. "Especially after yesterday. Because now I don't have to hide anymore. I can just... be."

The honesty in your words hit all three alphas like a physical force. To know that you felt safe enough, comfortable enough, to let your omega instincts take control completely—it was a level of trust that none of them took lightly.

"And this is you just being?" Hongjoong asked, gesturing toward the evidence of your afternoon's domestic spree.

You nodded enthusiastically. "I wanted to take care of you. All of you. Because you've been taking care of me, and it felt... right. Natural."

Yunho made a soft sound that might have been a whine, his alpha clearly overwhelmed by your sweetness. "You don't have to take care of us, Tulip. That's not your job."

"I’m your assistant so technically it is my job. But now it doesn’t feel like a job," you corrected him gently, your purple-tinged eyes warm with affection. "It's what I want to do. What feels good to do."

The distinction was important, and all three alphas recognized it. This wasn't about obligation or traditional omega roles—this was about genuine care, freely given, born from your own desires rather than external expectations.

"Well," Seonghwa said, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion, "we're incredibly grateful. All of this—" he gestured around the immaculate kitchen, toward the delicious smells emanating from the stove, "—it's amazing."

You let out a purr of satisfaction again, this time, the sound making all three alphas go slightly rigid with the force of their response. The combination of your glowing purple eyes, your obvious contentment, and that perfect omega sound created a moment of such pure rightness that none of them wanted it to end.

"Should I call the others for dinner?" you asked, already moving toward the hallway as if the thought of your alphas not being properly fed was unacceptable.

"In a few minutes," Hongjoong said quickly, catching your hand gently as you passed. "Let us just... appreciate this for a moment."

You tilted your head curiously, but allowed him to guide you back toward them. Standing there surrounded by three of your alphas, your eyes glowing with omega contentment, offering cookies you'd made with your own hands—it was a picture of domestic bliss that none of them had realized they'd been craving.

And judging by the way your omega was practically radiating satisfaction, it was exactly what you'd been craving too.

---

As Hongjoong and Seonghwa went upstairs to change out of their studio clothes, you returned to your cooking with renewed energy, chattering happily with Yunho who had moved closer to the kitchen island to keep you company. The purple glow had faded from your eyes, returning them to their normal color, but the contentment radiating from your omega remained strong.

"The sauce smells incredible," Yunho commented, leaning over your shoulder to peek at the pot you were stirring. His proximity sent a pleasant warmth through you, and when his hand came to rest lightly on your lower back, you found yourself leaning slightly into the touch.

"It's my mom's recipe," you replied, unconsciously tilting your head to give him better access as his thumb traced small, soothing circles against your spine. "She taught me that the secret is adding the gochujang slowly, letting each bit dissolve completely before adding more."

"Smart woman," Yunho murmured, his hand trailing up to squeeze your shoulder gently. "You'll have to teach me sometime."

The casual touches continued as you worked—his fingers brushing yours when he handed you ingredients, his palm settling on your hip when he moved around you to reach something, a soft kiss pressed to your temple when you successfully flipped the pajeon without breaking it.

"Perfect," he praised softly, his lips lingering near your ear. The combination of his warm breath and gentle approval made your omega purr with satisfaction.

You were so absorbed in cooking and Yunho's attentions that you barely noticed the sound of the front door opening again. It wasn't until you heard Wooyoung's dramatic gasp that you looked up to find four more members crowding into the kitchen doorway.

"What is that incredible smell?" Wooyoung demanded, his eyes wide as he took in the spread of dishes covering every available surface. "Tulip, did you cook all of this?"

San was already moving toward the stove, his expression one of pure amazement. "This looks like a feast. How long have you been cooking?"

"Most of the afternoon," you admitted, ducking your head shyly as their praise washed over you. Your omega practically glowed with pride at their obvious appreciation.

Mingi appeared at your other side, his tall frame creating a warm shield as he peered over your shoulder at the kimchi jjigae bubbling away. "You made kimchi jjigae from scratch?" His voice held a note of awe that made your chest flutter with happiness.

"And pajeon," Jongho added, pointing to the golden pancakes keeping warm in the oven. "And what's that?"

"Bulgogi," you replied, gesturing to the beautifully caramelized beef. "And banchan—pickled radish, seasoned spinach, bean sprouts..."

"You made banchan too?" Yeosang's quiet voice held a wonder that was somehow more affecting than the others' more vocal appreciation. "When did you have time for all this?"

"I just... wanted to," you said simply, the honest admission making several of the alphas make soft sounds of appreciation. "It felt good to cook for you all."

Wooyoung moved to stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed his face into your neck—not quite scenting, since your blocker was still in place, but seeking that closeness anyway. "You're amazing," he murmured against your skin. "Absolutely amazing."

"The luckiest pack in Seoul," San agreed fervently, earning nods from the others.

Yunho's hand found the small of your back again, his touch possessive and gentle as he guided you toward the dining table. "Come on, you've been working all day. Let us help serve everything."

"Oh no, I can—" you started to protest, but found yourself surrounded by eight determined alphas who had apparently decided that your cooking duties were officially over.

"Absolutely not," Seonghwa said firmly, appearing in fresh clothes with damp hair that suggested a quick shower. "You've done more than enough. We're taking care of the rest."

Watching them work together to transfer your carefully prepared dishes to the table filled you with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the kitchen. Your omega hummed with contentment at the sight of your alphas enjoying the fruits of your labor, their obvious pleasure and gratitude more rewarding than any praise you'd ever received.

And when Yunho pulled out your chair for you with a soft kiss to your temple and a whispered "thank you for taking care of us," you realized that this—being surrounded by alphas who appreciated your care while cherishing you in return—was exactly where you belonged.

---

You finished eating before the rest of them, your omega satisfied by watching your alphas enjoy the meal you'd prepared. Unable to sit still while they continued eating, you quietly began clearing some of the empty serving dishes and storing leftovers, moving around the table with practiced efficiency.

Jongho was the next to finish, setting down his chopsticks with a satisfied sigh. He'd barely started to stand, his plate in hand, when you appeared in front of him as if from nowhere, your hand extended expectantly.

"I can take this to the kitchen," he protested gently, but you simply wiggled your fingers at him, waiting.

Surprised by your insistence but unable to resist your determined expression, Jongho reluctantly placed his plate in your waiting hands. The moment he did, you reached up with your free hand and gently tapped his nose with your finger—a soft, affectionate boop that was followed by the most delighted chirp any of them had ever heard.

Jongho stood frozen as you practically skipped away to the kitchen, his hand unconsciously rising to touch his nose where you'd booped him.

"That..." he said slowly, his voice filled with wonder, "was the cutest thing I have ever seen."

Wooyoung was practically vibrating in his seat, his earlier satisfied calm replaced by excited, dramatic energy. "How—how do I get her to do that? What did you do? How can I make that happen again?" His eyes tracked your movements like a predator watching prey, though his expression was purely adoring.

Most of the others sat frozen in various states of shock, processing what they'd just witnessed. The casual affection, the omega sounds, the pure contentment radiating from your every movement—it was almost too much adorable stimulation for their alpha brains to handle.

Yunho, however, was smiling broadly, looking remarkably pleased with himself. "She did that earlier when I thanked her for the cookies," he said smugly. "Made the most beautiful purr and chirp I've ever heard."

"You didn't tell us about the nose boop!" San accused, his own eyes following your figure as you bustled around the kitchen.

"She didn't do the nose boop for me," Yunho admitted, though he didn't look particularly upset about it. "That was just for Jongho."

"Why just me?" Jongho asked, still touching his nose with an expression of bewildered delight.

"Because you're the baby," Wooyoung declared dramatically. "She's got omega instincts to take care of the youngest pack member!"

But Mingi wasn't participating in the playful analysis. His eyes tracked your every movement with an intensity that was different from the others—more focused, more predatory. His hands gripped his chopsticks so tightly his knuckles were white, and his eyes kept flashing between their normal brown and that telltale alpha gold.

Yeosang, ever observant, noticed first. "Mingi," he said quietly, his voice carefully controlled in the way that suggested he was trying to stay calm. "When is your rut due?"

The question landed like a bomb in the middle of the dining room. All conversation stopped as seven pairs of eyes fixed on Mingi, who had gone very still.

"Next week," Mingi said roughly, his voice strained. "Maybe... maybe a few days."

Hongjoong's expression immediately shifted to leader mode, his alpha instincts recognizing the potential complication. "How long have you been in pre-rut?"

"Since yesterday," Mingi admitted, his eyes flashing gold again as you bent to load dishes into the dishwasher. "Since the incident at the radio station. My alpha's been... restless."

The others exchanged worried glances. A protective alpha in pre-rut, around an omega, whose omega sounds were triggering every instinct they possessed—it was a situation that required careful handling.

"Mingi," Seonghwa said gently, "maybe you should—"

He was cut off as you returned to the dining room, completely oblivious to the tension that had descended over the table. Your satisfied omega energy filled the space as you began collecting more dishes, humming softly under your breath.

Mingi's breathing became noticeably more labored as you moved around the table, his alpha responding to your presence with an intensity that was becoming harder to control. When you reached for his plate, your fingers accidentally brushing his, he jerked back as if burned.

"Sorry," you said softly, concerned by his reaction. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The gentle care in your voice, the worried expression on your face, the way you instinctively moved closer to check on him—it was everything Mingi's pre-rut alpha could want and everything he needed to avoid.

"It's fine," he managed through gritted teeth, his hands clenching into fists to keep from reaching for you. "I'm fine."

But judging by the way his eyes blazed gold and his entire body vibrated with barely controlled alpha energy, fine was the last thing Mingi was.

---

After dinner, you'd settled into the living room with Wooyoung and Yeosang, some of the members went to their rooms, Yunho had taken Mingi for a walk to ‘clear his head’ he had told you.

 The conversation between the three of you had been animated and thoughtful, your omega still riding the high of having successfully cared for your pack, when Wooyoung's attention had suddenly shifted to something else entirely.

"You know," he said, settling closer to you on the couch with that mischievous glint in his eyes that usually meant trouble, "I've been thinking about that adorable little chirp you made for Jongho earlier."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks immediately. "Wooyoung—"

"It was the cutest sound I've ever heard," he continued, completely ignoring your warning tone. "Like a little bird. A happy little Tulip bird."

Yeosang, who had been quietly reading in his chair, looked up with an expression of mild exasperation. "Wooyoung, leave her alone."

"I'm not bothering her!" Wooyoung protested, though his grin suggested otherwise. "I'm just... appreciating her omega sounds. They're beautiful."

"They're involuntary," you said firmly, trying to sink deeper into the couch cushions. "I can't just make them on command."

"But what if you could?" Wooyoung asked hopefully, leaning forward with obvious excitement. "What if I did something really nice for you, and you got so happy that you just couldn't help but chirp?"

"That's not how it works," Yeosang said dryly, not looking up from his book. "You can't manipulate omega responses like that."

"I'm not manipulating!" Wooyoung said indignantly. "I'm providing excellent alpha services that naturally result in omega satisfaction!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous logic. "Alpha services?"

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, apparently taking your laughter as encouragement. "Like... bringing you snacks! Do you want snacks? I could bring you the most amazing snacks, and then maybe you'd be so grateful and happy that you'd chirp for me too."

"You're not a vending machine," Yeosang observed, turning a page with deliberate calm. "And she's not a pet that performs tricks for treats."

"I never said she was a pet!" Wooyoung protested. "I said she was a beautiful omega who makes the most adorable sounds when she's happy, and I want to make her happy so I can hear them again. That's completely different!"

"It's really not," Yeosang replied flatly.

"What if I sang for you?" Wooyoung suggested, apparently undeterred by Yeosang's logic. "I have a very nice voice. Very soothing. Omega-approved."

"Your voice is not omega-approved," Yeosang said with a slight smirk. "I've heard you sing in the shower. It's traumatic."

"Excuse me!" Wooyoung gasped in mock offense. "My shower singing is a masterpiece of vocal artistry!"

"It's a masterpiece of something," Yeosang agreed mildly.

You were laughing openly now at their banter, which only seemed to encourage Wooyoung further.

"See? She's happy!" he pointed out eagerly. "Surely that's worth at least a little chirp? Just a tiny one?"

"Wooyoung," you said, still giggling, "I can't just chirp on demand. It's not something I control."

"But what triggers it?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "Is it specific types of happiness? Gratitude? Alpha approval? I need to understand the mechanics here."

"There are no mechanics," Yeosang said patiently. "It's instinctual. Emotional. You can't engineer it."

"But Jongho got one just for letting her take his plate," Wooyoung argued. "That's such a simple thing! I do nice things for her all the time!"

"Maybe it's because he didn't expect anything in return," you suggested gently. "He just accepted my help naturally."

Wooyoung considered this seriously. "So if I act completely natural and don't expect a chirp, I might get one?"

"That defeats the purpose of acting natural," Yeosang pointed out with exaggerated patience. "You can't consciously try to be unconscious about it."

"This is very complicated," Wooyoung said with a dramatic sigh. "Being an alpha is hard work. All these omega intricacies to navigate."

"You're overthinking it," you said with fond amusement. "Just be yourself, Wooyoung. The sounds happen when they happen."

"But I want them to happen now," he said with endearing honesty. "Your omega sounds make my alpha very happy. It's like... confirmation that you're content and safe and pleased with us."

The sincere admission beneath his playful demeanor made your heart flutter. Before you could respond, though, something shifted in the air around you. Wooyoung was leaning forward, gesticulating enthusiastically as he made a point about alpha-omega dynamics, when suddenly his scent hit you like a physical force.

Bergamot and ginger, bright and spicy and utterly intoxicating, flooded your senses with an intensity that made your head spin. Your blocker was failing again.

Your blocker was failing again.

"I'll be right back," you said abruptly, standing so quickly that both alphas looked at you with concern.

"Tulip? Are you okay?" Wooyoung asked, half-rising from his seat.

"Fine! Just need to—bathroom," you managed, already backing toward the door. "Be right back!"

You practically ran to the guesthouse, your heart hammering as Wooyoung's scent lingered in your system despite the distance. In your bathroom, you fumbled for the scent blocker behind your ear, peeling it off with shaking fingers. The adhesive came away easily—too easily.

Grabbing a fresh blocker from your supply, you paused before applying it, finally taking the time to read the fine print on the packaging that you'd never bothered with before. Your eyes scanned the text until you found what you were looking for:

*Warning: Effectiveness may be compromised when omega approaches heat cycle. Increased pheromone production may overwhelm blocking capabilities. Consult your physician if...*

Heat cycle. You weren't due for another month, but omega cycles could be irregular, especially under stress. Yesterday's traumatic revelation, the awakening of your omega instincts, being surrounded by eight alphas who were openly acknowledging you as pack—it could easily have triggered an early cycle.

The sound of your front door opening made you freeze.

"Y/n?" Hongjoong's voice called from the main room. "I knocked but there was no answer. You ran off so quickly, I wanted to make sure—"

You emerged from the bathroom, fresh blocker in hand, so wrapped up in your internal panic you hadn’t realized you hadn’t applied it. "I'm okay," you started to say, looking up to meet his concerned gaze. "I just needed to—"

But Hongjoong had gone completely still in your doorway, his entire body rigid with tension. His eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch, and as you watched, they began to glow that familiar molten gold.

It was becoming a common occurrence recently, but something about this felt different. More intense. More—

The wave of his scent hit you like a tsunami.

Sandalwood and ocean breeze, but stronger than you'd ever experienced it, pure and unfiltered and so perfectly right that your knees nearly buckled. Without your blocker in place, without any barrier between you and his alpha pheromones, the full force of his scent crashed over you and triggered something primal and immediate in your omega.

Your eyes blazed bright purple in response, matching the gold of his gaze as your body went completely rigid. Dimly, you registered the unused blocker falling from your nerveless fingers to clatter on the floor, but you couldn't move to retrieve it. Couldn't move at all.

Because Hongjoong's scent was wrapping around you like a living thing, calling to something deep in your omega that recognized him on a level beyond conscious thought. And from the way his pupils had blown wide, from the way his breathing had gone ragged, you knew he was experiencing the same overwhelming recognition.

He was smelling your scent for the first time too. Jasmine and vanilla, sweet and warm and utterly omega, filling the small space of the guesthouse until it was all either of you could breathe.

The moment stretched between you, loaded with a recognition that went beyond attraction, beyond the connection you'd all been feeling. This was something deeper, something cellular and undeniable.

"Mate," you whispered, the word falling from your lips without conscious thought.

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[pathologicalreid]

what to expect | s.r.

in which you find yourself frustrated at the end of your pregnancy, and spencer talks you off a ledge

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: pregnancy, lamaze classes, self-consciousness, boy dad spencer, spencer is perfect, birth talks, breastmilk mentioned, crying word count: 1.68k a/n: i'm writing all of these a/n's at the same time and i'm running out of interesting things to say to you. this was a request! i hope you enjoy!

“Now,” the instructor continued her presentation, “Our recommendation is the five-five-five rule.” The yardstick that she was using to emphasize the slides smacked against the projector screen, “That’s five days in bed, five days on the bed, and five days near the bed.”

Leaning back, you rested your back on Spencer’s chest and whispered, “If you try to keep me in bed for five days, we’ll have to start marriage counseling.”

Your husband hummed in response, “Why don’t we just see how you’re feeling after he’s here?”

Holding back a groan at his diplomatic answer, you turned your head back to the screen, anxiety already at an all-time high after watching video footage of a live birth. At a friend’s recommendation, you had signed yourself and Spencer up for Lamaze lessons, but you hadn’t anticipated how in-depth they would go.

It didn’t help that Spencer had been on a case when you were supposed to start, pushing back your start time. Now you were finishing your last lesson on the same day your OB had given you the ‘any day now’ speech. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, noticing the way you didn’t respond to his suggestion.

Your head bobbed in confirmation, “Yeah, just tired.” The lights were dimmed in the classroom, between that and the warmth of Spencer behind you, you were ready to fall asleep.

Your sweet husband was beginning to toe the line of being overbearing, “Do you want me to take the rest of the day off?”

“No,” you answered. He had taken an extended lunch to be able to go to this lesson with you, there was only a week until his paternity leave officially started, and it wasn’t necessary for him to stay with you for the rest of the day.

Besides, having him around all day was only going to make your prenatal anxiety worse.

He was already the perfect father, his eidetic memory contributing to all of the facts that he listed about newborns and birth. He knew more about the changes happening to your body, and the worst part was that everyone knew it.

Cringing as the lights went up, you leaned back on your hands as Spencer stood up, packing up your bag before crouching down to help you up. Looking around the room, you watched all of the other couples in your class smiling and laughing with each other, the moms moving around the room with an ease that you no longer possessed.

You took a deep breath, placing one hand on your side in an attempt to brace yourself, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Spencer asked again, watching you zone out in the middle of the Lamaze studio.

“Mhmm,” you reassured him, “Braxton Hicks,” you added, trying to wave off some of his concern.

Nodding in understanding, Spencer gently placed a hand on the small of your back before the two of you started to make your way out of the room, stopping to grab the gift bag your instructor had put together for you. His hand dropped to hold yours before walking down the steps, leaving the two of you at the entrance to the parking garage, “Hey,” he nudged, trying to lift your spirits, “No more classes.”

Admittedly, the Lamaze lessons weren’t your favorite couple activity, and Spencer knew that the only reason you kept going was that they were non-refundable. “Right,” you agreed, knowing that now you’d have to face the next hurdle—actually giving birth.

“Okay,” Spencer said, gently herding you over to a park bench. He set the bags down on the seat before you sat down, leaving him squatting in front of you. “What’s wrong, honey? I know something’s wrong,” he insisted, knowing you well enough to be able to tell when you were burying your feelings.

You leaned back onto the bench, “I’m pregnant,” you shrugged as if that was answer enough.

Spencer frowned up at you, “Yes, this much I am aware of,” he confirmed, eyes flickering down to your bump before going back to your face.

“I just…” you struggled to find the right words, “I’m pregnant, and you’re doing all of this research into pregnancy and labor and birth, and I’ve done none of it. None of the research or the work and I’m— I feel useless!”

His expression softened at the sight of tears welling in your eyes, “You’re not useless. You’re so far from useless that it’s not even on the list of adjectives I would consider while describing you.” He rested his hands on you, one on top of your knee to maintain his balance and another on the side of the bump, skimming his thumb over the cotton of your t-shirt. “You’ve been growing our baby, and he’s beautiful and healthy and he’s going to love you regardless of how much research you’ve done about him.”

Huffing, you wipe at your teary eyes, “It’s so embarrassing though! Going to the BAU today and hearing everyone talk about how prepared you are, the stacks of books on your desk and on your nightstand and on the coffee table.” You paused to take a deep breath, “In those stupid classes where you knew so many of the answers that the instructor stopped calling on you to give everyone else a chance.”

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmured, “I like being prepared. Especially for big changes like this.”

You nodded, resting your hand on top of his, “And I love that about you, but I have never felt so unprepared for anything in my life,” you confessed, struggling to catch your breath.

It wasn’t like Spencer didn’t understand your frustrations, he just wished you had voiced some of these concerns sooner, “You don’t need to prepare like I do, though. Your maternal instinct? It’s inherent. It’ll immutably move you to sense and take care of the baby, okay? With dads it’s different. I don’t have any sort of physical connection with him like you do, I won’t develop a similar instinct until I actually spend time with him. So, technically, you’re ahead of me,” he explained, using all of his research to soothe you out of your panic.

“I just want him to love me as I love him,” you pouted, looking down at the bump, “but I ache all over, Spence. My boobs hurt. They’re not even tender anymore, they just hurt,” you complained.

Spencer chuckled lightly at your breast comment, “He will love you as you love him; I guarantee it. Your boobs hurt because they’re producing colostrum, and we can call your doctor later to see if it’s alright to pump. That’ll help relieve the pressure.”

Some of the tension in your body released, and you sniffled timidly, “I think those classes are designed to freak people out of ever having another baby. Oh my god,” your eyes go wide as you recall the live birth video, “You can’t watch.”

“Watch what, honey?” Spencer asked.

You looked at him with abject horror in your eyes, “The baby. You can’t watch me give birth. Is that why the dads always used to wait in another room? Should I be having you wait in another room while I’m in labor?”

He shook his head, “I’d like to be in the room with you, but if you’d be more comfortable having me somewhere else, then we can figure that out. However, we just went through twelve hours of birthing classes together, so if you’d rather I just refrain from actually watching you push the baby out, then I will promise to abide by your rules.”

Horror stories that you had heard from other moms about how their husbands wouldn’t touch them after birth filled your mind, and that type of rejection horrified you. With wide eyes, you looked at your husband and whispered, “I can’t do this.”

Spencer watched helplessly as tears filled your eyes once again, “Can’t do what?”

“Have a baby,” you answered, your voice tight with emotion, “What was I thinking? I never should’ve done this, oh no.” You continued muttering to yourself, sending your head into a tailspin as Spencer desperately tried to get you to come back down to earth.

“Hey,” Spencer crooned, “Y/N, hey,” he tried to get you to snap out of it. “Hey, we made this decision together, remember? Why didn’t you tell me you hated being pregnant?”

Your eyes snapped to his, “I don’t hate being pregnant. I’m just over it!”

Pushing your bags off to the side, Spencer sat down next to you on the bench, “You want him here, huh?”

Nodding melodramatically, you cover your eyes with your hands, “I just wish he could be in my arms instead of in my belly, and now that I’ve been told he could come any day it’s so much worse.”

“Thirty-seven weeks is any day now territory,” Spencer acknowledged, “but not today, I’m afraid.”

Dragging your hands down your face as you met his eyes, knowing that today was, in fact, not the day. “I miss hugs,” you told him mournfully, wiping at the fresh tears in your eyes.

Spencer casually put his arm around your shoulders, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your temple, “I hug you all the time,” he reminded you.

“It’s not the same with the bump,” you admitted, there was always an awkward lean involved, and you could never get close enough to him.

He raised his eyebrows at you curiously, “So, if I promise to give you a hug after the baby’s born, will you stop crying?”

Leaning your head back and using his arm as a headrest, your head bobbed slightly, “Yeah, I think that could fix me.”

“Honey,” he started, “I promise to give you the coziest, most rejuvenating hug of your entire life after the baby comes. I will hug you like you’ve never been hugged before.”

Turning to face him, a timid smile grew on your face, “Well, now you’re kind of laying it on thick, don’t you think?”

He sighed desperately, “I just really want you to stop crying.”

[cigarettesuga]

꒰꒰⠀⠀⠀too good at pretending.⠀✸⠀(⠀ myg ⠀)

pairing: idol!fwb!yoongi x producer!fem!reader

genre: smut, slow-burn tension, hidden feelings, late-night studio rendezvous, slice of chaotic intimacy, mutual pining masked as indifference

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fingering, teasing, rough sex, oral tension, light dom!yoongi, semi-public sex, dirty talk, marking, overstimulation, slightly possessive behavior, soft aftercare if you squint, mutual denial of romantic feelings, mention of work-stress/mental fatigue, they’re both bad at feelings but good at sex

word count: 4.3 k

summary: it’s after midnight in a nearly-empty hybe building, and she’s still buried in deadlines and demos, jaw clenched and hands in her hair — until the only person who knows her chaos in silence shows up, just as worn out and just as emotionally unavailable. but when yoongi finds her in studio 3A, looking like she hasn't slept and biting down on her own frustration, the air shifts. and when he pulls her into his lap and tells her to be quiet if she doesn’t want the whole floor hearing — neither of them is thinking about feelings. only about relief. except everyone knows — even if they don’t say it out loud — they’re already each other's. just too damn stubborn to admit it.

lu's note: hey there i just wanted to pop up and say that requests are open, i'm on a writing spree and hopefully i'll update more regularly now that i'm almost done with the semester. i'd like to know if you want to see something abt any of the guys... just send a whisper ;)

⠀⠀⠀⠀m.list | latest

the building's nearly dead.

just the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of someone vacuuming in another hallway. most people had cleared out hours ago — normal people, anyway. the ones with boundaries. sleep schedules. lives.

but not them.

yoongi stretches his neck as he turns the last corner, a paper cup of half-warm coffee in his hand, and there she is.

exactly where he figured she’d be.

her back’s to him, shoulders tense, hands tangled in her hair like she’s trying to physically pull inspiration from her skull. he watches her for a second before saying anything — mostly because it’s kind of fascinating, the way her frustration makes him want to smile. not in a cruel way. more like... fuck, of course it's her. of course she's making herself crazy over something that probably already sounds better than half the shit on the charts right now.

he leans against the doorframe. takes a sip.

“you know you’re not getting paid overtime for this, right?”

she doesn’t jump. just groans without turning around. “don’t start, yoongi. not tonight.”

he chuckles, low and quiet. walks in.

“been trying to reach you.”

his voice is softer now, casual, like this isn’t the third time he’s walked past her empty studio earlier, pretending he wasn’t checking in. “thought maybe you finally ran off to join that noise-pop cult you keep threatening me with.”

“almost did,” she mutters, fingers flying over her keyboard. “but then this demo started sounding like a crime against humanity and i couldn’t leave it like that.”

he settles into the chair beside hers — not close enough to touch, but close enough to be there.

his usual spot.

“play it.”

she hesitates, chewing her lip, and for a second he thinks she’ll argue. but she presses spacebar and leans back, arms crossed.

the track fills the room — unpolished, raw, still bleeding at the edges. but there’s something real in it, something aching and sharp.

and he knows her well enough to hear the exhaustion between the beats.

the trying too hard.

it ends. silence settles.

he nods once. slow.

“doesn’t suck.”

she scoffs. “great. can’t wait to put that on the album review.”

his smirk twitches. “i mean. it doesn’t suck as much as i expected, considering you’re trying to mix in what sounds like a dying printer.”

her mouth drops open in fake offense, and he can’t help it — the corner of his lip lifts again, amused.

this. this is why he came. not because he needed to hear the track. not because he didn’t trust she’d get it done.

but because she looks like a goddamn hurricane when she’s like this, all untamed and brilliant and so deep in her head that it scares him a little.

and he knows the world doesn’t always get the calmer version of her. the one that leans into the quiet. the one that lets herself just be.

but she gives him that version. even when she’s falling apart. especially then.

“take a break,” he says gently, pushing the coffee toward her. “you’re spiraling.”

she looks at the cup, then at him.

and for just a second — just one — her eyes soften.

but then she rolls them. “you’re annoying.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. just sits there beside her, letting the silence stretch, letting her know she’s not alone — that even when she forgets how to breathe, he remembers. for both of them.

the moment’s quiet.

too quiet for how fast his pulse is moving.

he watches the way her shoulders rise and fall — clipped, uneven — like she’s trying not to fall apart, like holding herself still is the only thing keeping her from unraveling right there in the middle of waveforms and midi tracks. and that shouldn’t do anything to him. he tells himself that every single time.

but fuck, there’s something about seeing her like this — worn down, raw around the edges, still fighting anyway — that guts him more than he’ll ever admit out loud.

he takes a step closer.

then another.

and when he’s close enough to feel the heat of her back through her hoodie, he bends a little, eyes on the crown of her head.

presses his lips there — soft, brief. a barely-there kiss that shouldn’t mean anything but always does.

her hand twitches on the mouse.

he pretends not to notice.

instead, he lets his hands find her arms, slow and easy, fingers tracing lightly from her elbows to her shoulders and back again. not squeezing, not rushing — just being there. reminding her she’s not in this alone, not tonight. maybe not ever, even if neither of them will dare say it.

his mouth finds her hair again, this time to whisper, low and amused, “you keep this up and you’re not getting anywhere with the song.”

her breath stutters — a soft exhale.

and she leans back the tiniest bit, like her body knows something her pride won’t admit.

“maybe,” she says, voice quieter now, “i just need to relax…”

he hums, and it comes out more like a growl than a laugh.

his thumbs drag slow circles into her arms now, a little firmer.

not suggestive — not yet — just intentional.

“yeah?” he murmurs, mouth still ghosting against her hair. “you want help with that?”

there’s a pause. one of those heavy ones, where a whole universe of unsaid things pass between two people who keep pretending they don’t care.

she doesn't say yes.

she doesn't have to.

her body shifts back into him, barely-there contact that might as well be a plea. her eyes stay on the screen, like she’s still pretending this is about the music — like the way her thighs press together slightly isn’t an answer in itself.

he leans closer, lips a whisper away from her ear.

“say the word.”

his voice is lower now. soft, rough, dangerous.

and god, if she says it?

he’ll make her forget what stress even feels like.

her hands on his hips feel deceptively casual — light, teasing — but he feels the tremor beneath her fingertips. the tension riding up her spine even though her voice comes out cool, steady.

"you know i’ll say yes, right?"

he looks down at her, lips quirking into that crooked half-smile — the one that always makes her roll her eyes like she’s not secretly addicted to it.

"yeah," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the top of her arm. "but consent is sexy. and i’m nothing if not respectful."

her laugh is soft, almost a sigh, but her eyes never leave the screen, like it’s some kind of anchor. or maybe a shield.

he knows how much she hates vulnerability.

knows how much she hides behind work.

but when she leans into him like that — trusting him, choosing him — it undoes something in his chest every single time.

"c’mon," she says, still in that whisper, glancing toward the studio door. "we can’t take too long… we don’t know who’s still on this floor."

and he wants to say, let them fucking hear,

but instead, he lets her guide him — lets her take control the way she always does when she needs to feel like she’s not drowning.

her hand slips into his, fingers cold from hours on the mouse, and he follows as she leads him toward the tiny couch in the corner of the room, worn down from too many late-night naps and occasional power plays like this.

he sits down first, legs open, arms resting on the back of the couch like he’s not already burning for her.

she stands in front of him, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, pupils dark and pulled — and it takes everything in him not to reach for her right away.

but he doesn’t have to.

because she climbs onto his lap with no hesitation, knees bracketing his thighs, arms sliding around his neck like she’s done it a hundred times — like it’s muscle memory now.

and maybe it is.

he exhales, hands settling low on her waist as she leans in, their foreheads brushing for a moment. a charged pause.

“you good?” he asks, voice barely there.

her mouth tilts into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes — not yet — and then she kisses him.

it starts slow, all lips and warmth and quiet desperation. not rushed. not rough.

like they’re trying to remind each other that even in chaos, this is the one place they always come back to.

his fingers press into her back, her hips roll into his without even meaning to, and the tension between them unravels thread by thread.

her hands are in his hair now, tugging, anchoring herself as their mouths move together in sync — and he swears she tastes like frustration and espresso and whatever scent drives him fucking insane every time she walks past him in a hallway.

somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears the vacuum whir down the hall again. a reminder of where they are. who they aren’t supposed to be.

but it doesn’t matter right now.

not when she’s sighing into his mouth like this.

not when she’s melting into his chest like maybe she’s tired of holding the whole world up by herself.

he kisses her deeper — just once — before pulling back just enough to whisper against her lips,

“five minutes.”

she breathes a laugh, breathy and wrecked.

“we’re gonna need at least ten.”

his fingers curl into the waistband of her sweatpants, slow and deliberate — a quiet warning and a promise all in one. the fabric bunches beneath his grip, and he tugs just enough for her to feel it, to know what’s coming next.

but then —

the vacuum hums closer, louder, just outside the door.

they both freeze.

he leans in, lips brushing her ear now, voice low enough to blend with the rumble in the hall.

“you’ll have to be real quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, pretty girl.”

his voice does that thing to her — that husky drop, the weight of intention threading through every syllable. she shifts against him, hips tilting just slightly like her body’s answering before she can think, and that’s all he needs.

he helps her out of the sweatpants — slow and careful, keeping her steady as she steps out of them one leg at a time. it’s practiced, familiar, intimate in a way that makes the air in the room shift.

and then she’s back in his lap, straddling him again, bare thighs brushing denim, skin against skin with only a whisper of lace in between.

her hoodie’s still on. her converse are still on — something about that is stupidly hot, chaotic and casual like everything about her.

his hands trail up her thighs, thumbs skating along the edge of her underwear, a slow tease that makes her bite her bottom lip.

he leans back just enough to take her in — flushed cheeks, messy hair, mouth slightly parted, and that signature don’t fall for me look in her eyes that he knows is all smoke and mirrors.

“lace, huh?” he murmurs, fingertips brushing just under the hem of her panties. “you really didn’t plan on finishing that demo tonight.”

her nails dig into his shoulders in response — not enough to hurt, just enough to say shut up and keep going.

he grins, letting one hand slip up her hoodie, dragging his palm along warm skin, the curve of her waist.

“we’re on a clock, baby,” he whispers, thumb circling higher now, just barely grazing. “think you can stay quiet for me?”

and yeah, he says it like a challenge.

like he already knows she’s not gonna make it easy.

her breath catches — barely audible but unmistakable — as his thumb draws slow, lazy circles over lace. there’s nothing rushed about him, no urgency in the way he touches her. just quiet control. patience that only makes it worse.

or better.

depending on how you look at it.

she shivers under his hand, biting her lip so hard it might leave a mark, trying to keep it together even though her thighs are already trembling around his.

he smirks against the crook of her jaw, amused and maddeningly calm, as if they aren’t one thin wall away from getting caught, as if she isn’t already this undone and he’s barely even touched her.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, breath hot against her skin. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”

then his fingers slip under the lace — slow, deliberate — and she gasps, soft and sharp, her hands grabbing at his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing in the room.

he grins, lips brushing her cheek.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, nudging his nose along her jaw. “remember what i said.”

she nods, swallowing hard, eyes glassy and unfocused.

and that’s when he guides her hand.

takes her wrist gently and brings it down, pressing her palm over his own hand, over the fingers teasing slow, torturous circles just where she needs them most.

“use my fingers,” he whispers, low and rough. “you know what you like.”

and she does.

her hand trembles as she starts to move — guiding him, hips rocking in quiet desperation. it’s messy, it's intimate, and so fucking real.

he lets her take control, but never lets go — his other hand pressing firm at the base of her spine, grounding her, holding her there, reminding her that she’s safe, she’s seen, she’s his — even if they’ll never say it.

every breath she exhales into his neck sounds like a confession.

every roll of her hips says i need you louder than words ever could.

and yoongi, voice barely audible, lips pressed to the shell of her ear, breathes out the one thing he knows will wreck her:

“that’s it, pretty girl. just like that.”

his breath is hot against her skin — ragged now, catching with every sound she makes, every tiny gasp she tries to swallow back like it’s not unraveling him completely.

his fingers move slower, deeper. stretching her gently, curling just enough to make her spine arch into him. he knows her body by now — every twitch, every soft curse under her breath, every time she presses her mouth to his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud.

she’s trying to be good. to be quiet.

and he’s not making it easy.

“so fuckin’ wet for me already,” he murmurs into her ear, voice low and dark and laced with a smile she can feel. “this what you needed, huh? not a break. just my fingers inside you while the whole building’s still awake.”

his lips trail down her neck, open-mouthed kisses that go from soft to claiming real quick — he sucks just under her jaw, enough pressure to leave a mark that won’t fade by morning. something she’ll complain about later with a smirk, trying to act like she’s mad, like she doesn’t love it.

she whimpers — the sound small and stifled, but there — and his teeth graze her skin right after.

“shh…” he soothes, lips brushing the red bloom he just left behind. “you’re doing so good, baby. so fuckin’ pretty like this, falling apart on my lap, hoodie on, shoes still on — god, you’re such a mess for me.”

his fingers stretch deeper now, his rhythm steady but ruthless — working her open while his free hand tightens on her hip, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel just how hard he is under her.

“you feel that?” he breathes out, grinding her down a little. “feel what you do to me?”

she nods, desperate, mouth parted and gasping — but he doesn’t stop.

he can’t.

not when she’s trembling like this, thighs twitching, hands clawing at his shoulders, his name falling off her lips in broken whispers she probably doesn’t even realize she’s saying.

not when she’s losing herself and still trying to hold it together, still trying to not moan loud enough to echo down the hall.

he kisses her collarbone, trailing down with slow reverence before whispering against her skin — filth laced in affection:

“come for me, pretty girl. be quiet if you can… but fuck, don’t hold back on my account.”

she’s trembling in his lap now — her entire body shivering with the aftermath of it, hips stuttering as she rides it out against his hand, making a mess all over his fingers, on his jeans, like she’s got nothing left to give.

but the way she’s gasping his name, barely even trying to be quiet anymore, the way her hands are still gripping his shirt like she’s starving — that’s when he knows.

she’s not done.

not even close.

"yoongi," she breathes, voice wrecked, pleading, pulling at his shirt now like she’ll unravel if he doesn’t do something now.

he kisses her jaw, quick, and helps her up without a word, hands strong and steady under her thighs as she finds her footing again, legs shaky, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted.

“c’mon,” he says, voice low, firm, laced with need so thick it’s almost a growl. he turns her gently, guides her to lean over the back of the couch, her knees sinking into the worn cushions — and fuck, the sight of her like that?

it nearly undoes him.

she pulls off the hoodie in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind her, hair falling wild and messy down her back. the black lace underwear’s still clinging to her thighs, barely pushed down, an afterthought now — and something about it makes his brain short-circuit.

he stands behind her, hands trailing down her spine, over the soft slope of her hips.

he could tease. he wants to tease.

but not now.

not when she’s already shaking for him, not when she’s arching her back just right, looking over her shoulder with that desperate, wrecked little expression that makes his cock twitch against his zipper.

he leans in, one hand sliding up her back, pressing down between her shoulder blades.

“you want it like this?” he whispers against her ear, hot and low.

she nods, frantic.

he barely tugs the underwear any further, just enough to expose her, to have her. he likes the way it looks bunched on her thighs, messy and rushed, like they never really had the patience to undress properly.

like they never do.

then he undoes his belt, the quiet clink loud in the stillness of the studio.

and just before he sinks into her, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine, and mutters — low and reverent — like she’s the only thing he believes in,

“let me take care of you.”

his hands are rough now, no more of that slow build-up — it’s fast, all heat and urgency, all of it fueled by the risk, by how easy it would be for someone to walk by and hear the unmistakable sounds slipping out from under the door.

his fingers dig into the swell of her ass, spreading her open, thumbs pressing into skin like he owns it. he squeezes, slaps once — quick and sharp — just to watch her jolt forward on instinct, breath catching as she reaches for something to bite down on.

she grabs the old throw blanket folded lazily on the armrest — some gifted merch no one ever uses — and she sinks her teeth into it, moaning into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping her from getting caught.

yoongi’s head falls back for a second at the sight of her like this — needy and wrecked and his, half-naked with her shoes still on, knees digging into a couch they’ve both crashed on too many times.

and he’s fast now. fucking into her like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, low groans escaping his throat every time she clenches around him, every time her hips grind back like she’s just as desperate.

“look at you,” he pants, leaning in close, chest to her back. his hand tangles in her hair, not too hard, just enough to pull her head back so he can get to her ear, mouth brushing the shell of it. “biting that blanket like you don’t want the whole damn building to know how good i’m fucking you.”

she moans louder at that — muffled but loud — like the filth in his voice is winding her tighter.

“so fuckin’ needy,” he whispers, hips snapping into her, rhythm relentless. “you were practically begging for it, weren’t you? making a mess all over my hand, whining in my lap like a pretty little slut…”

he kisses the corner of her jaw, slow and messy.

"you think they’d still respect you if they saw you like this? bent over, drooling into a blanket while i fuck you stupid?"

her whole body shudders at that — hips twitching, back arching — and he grins, breathless.

“didn’t think so,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke. “now be good, baby. stay quiet, take it all — and don’t you dare cum until i say so.”

yoongi swears under his breath, voice low and ragged, eyes locked on the slick, messy glide of her body swallowing him whole — over and over again. the mess she’s making of him, of herself, of the damn couch cushions. it’s obscene. it’s art.

he can’t look away.

the way her thighs tremble.

the slick sounds echoing in the tiny studio.

the blanket still caught between her teeth, now damp with spit and moans she’s too scared to let out.

it’s almost too much — almost.

he slows suddenly, pulls out with a slow drag that makes her gasp and arch back instinctively, trying to chase the friction.

but he’s already palming himself, thick and flushed and dripping — dragging the head of his cock right against her swollen clit.

“yoongi—” she breathes, voice high and strung out, hips bucking back, needing more — needing anything.

he grins, lazily, running himself along her, smearing her wetness in tight little circles. messy, filthy pressure, just enough to make her legs shake.

“fuck, look at this,” he groans, thumbing her open again just to see the way she twitches. “you’re so wet for me, pretty girl. making a goddamn mess all over my cock, and i haven’t even finished with you yet.”

he pushes in just the tip — enough to make her cry out into the blanket — and pulls back again to rub slow circles against her clit, dragging the head across her like he’s trying to brand her with it.

“you like that?” he murmurs, watching her hips try to press back into him. “like how it feels when i tease you like this? you want more?”

she nods desperately, a muffled please slipping out around the fabric in her mouth, and it’s so sweet, so fucking perfect, it makes his grip on her hair tighten just a little.

“you’re gonna lose your mind if i don’t give it to you, huh?” he growls, circling her clit again, wet and hot and just enough to make her shake. “but i like watching you fall apart like this. so messy, so loud without even saying a word.”

he leans in close again, lips ghosting over her ear, voice lower than before — dangerous.

“keep that blanket right there, baby. ‘cause when i finally fuck you again… you’re gonna need something to scream into.”

he can feel it building — low in his spine, thick in his blood, the kind of tension that’s impossible to slow down once it starts burning through his veins. she’s soaked, her thighs trembling against his, back arching every time he drags himself over that perfect spot, and he’s dangerously close to losing it.

he pulls her up gently, not because he wants to be sweet — though he is, in his own way — but because he needs a better angle. needs to see her face, her wrecked little expressions. needs to feel her falling apart with him.

“come here,” he mutters, helping her shift, guiding her down onto her side, her legs curling slightly as he lays behind her. he hooks one arm under her knee, holding it up to keep her open, the other snaking around her waist to pull her flush against him.

and then he’s back inside her — deeper like this, slower for a second, but heavier, more intense.

“fuck, baby,” he grits, mouth pressed to the back of her neck, teeth grazing skin. “you’re so tight like this… you were made for this.”

she lets out a breathy, muffled moan — lips parted, eyes fluttering — and it’s so much, the intimacy, the sweat, the quiet gasps between them. the danger of getting caught still sharp in the background, echoing with every thrust.

he’s close — too close — and when she reaches behind her, fingers barely brushing his hip like she’s trying to pull him even deeper, that’s what does it.

“shit—” he groans, deep and rough, burying his face in her shoulder as he pulls out quickly, hand wrapping around himself.

in just a few rough strokes, he’s coming hard — hot and messy, thick spurts landing right across the black lace of her underwear still tangled around her thighs. he pants against her, forehead pressed to her back, hand steadying himself against her hip as the tremors run through him.

“fuck,” he whispers, breathless. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

they’re still tangled like that — her on her side, flushed and slick, his cum cooling on her thighs and lace — when a knock slices through the air.

sharp.

loud.

too real.

they both freeze.

she shoots him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, and yoongi curses under his breath as he scrambles for her hoodie, tossing it over her bare chest while trying to zip himself up with one hand.

“(y/n)-ssi?” a voice calls politely from the hallway. a young male staffer, probably an intern. “i was told to remind you about the morning meeting. they asked if you could check your email before you leave.”

yoongi presses a finger to his lips, mouthing don’t laugh when she lets out a wheeze and nearly chokes on it, face buried in the blanket again.

“thanks!” she croaks out after a second, voice not nearly as steady as she wants it to be. “i’ll check in a bit!”

silence. footsteps retreat. door remains mercifully shut.

yoongi leans down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, voice smug and low and just as wrecked as she is.

“you owe me a new pair of jeans,” he murmurs.

“and maybe a warning next time you decide to look that fuckable in sweatpants.”

-quietly always, cigarettesuga.

[2neaky]

. ۪ ֗ “ 𝑁𝑜—𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑂𝑛𝑒 ”⋆˚🫧

PART 1 • [this fic has been split into two parts]

21k! CONTENT WARNING (MDNI) • phone s*x (mutual m*sturbation), edg*ng, unprotected s*x, p -> v s*x, b*ckshots, squ*rting, choking, c*rvix kissing, rough consensual s*x, dominating male character, possessive behavior/talk, dummification, foot f*tish, minor size k*nk, tummy bulge, heavy use of dirty talk, use of profanity, nicknames (Mami, Mama, Papa, Pa), use of the n-word (all characters & Author are Black) • INSPIRED BY THIS POST • CHARACTER VISUALZ

PART 2 HERE ->

TENSION TIES HER BROWS INTO A KNOT, disturbing the usually smooth and clear surface of her skin.

The pounding at the base of her skull is like a jackhammer to concrete. Nothing even close to a minor headache from hunger or dehydration—though the two factors are likely at play here.

Another migraine, she knows. 

The ailment has unfortunately been reoccurring for the last two months. No amount of pain reliever, water, or “relaxation” seems to be a solution. 

A solution—the solution—would be to come up on the perfect new home for herself.

Her pupils tremble as they struggle to uphold their deadpan stare on the MacBook’s bright screen. The mild sting in her eyes doesn’t distract her anymore. 

Within the last three hours since sitting up in bed, they’ve seen more numbers than her lagging brain can keep up with. Numbers that just keep climbing as the conditions and amenities of newer listings lessen. 

These sellers must be out of their fucking minds.

$3,000 a month for a one-bedroom unit, with no washer and dryer? 

Almost $600 in amenities—per month? 

$2,500 for just a studio?

Every new and disappointing option makes that worrying voice at the back of her head louder. Because—really—she’s only got about a month and a half left of this lease, and she’s definitely not staying here.

She can’t afford to. Not even with her new job.

What started as a fun and optimistic search, has turned into one full of anxiety. As time withers away, her standards for a new apartment have been whittled down to the bare minimum.

Is it fair to say that she’s become desperate?

Whether or not she’ll even be able to find a new place before her lease is up, is unknown at this point.

Funding a new place is her only option at this point. The thought of moving back in with her father is unfathomable. She just can’t.

Minutes of her teeth worrying at her bottom lip; they finally rip through the soft, pink skin. She doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she swipes her tongue over the leaking nick as she proceeds to the eleventh page of results.

These newer listings lie near the outskirts of the city, closer to the suburbs. A problem when the public transportation of her state doesn’t reach those areas, her job is in the heart of the city and—oh! She doesn’t have a car.

“Fuck.”

A defeated whine squirms from her mouth as her head falls in her hands. The heavy comforter over her legs is hot and suffocating. But, at the very least, it feels good to close her eyes for once. 

Tiny beads of tears line her closed lids, pearling up along her thinning lash extensions—which are way past their time for a fill-in. And fuck, she can’t even afford to do that.

Her chest deflates as a long and slow exhale is dragged from her chest. Following suit, is a wet sniffle. 

When she finally picks her bonneted head out of her hands, her blurred vision waltzes around her bedroom.

The light is off, the sunlight does all of the work; pouring in through the tall windows and spilling itself against the cool, plaster-colored wood flooring. It reaches farther in some areas than others.

For instance, it washes over her in a shower of light, yet hesitates to touch the corners of her room where clothes, shoes, and other miscellaneous bullshit are strewn about. She shuts her eyes with the reminder of her need to clean this pigsty.

Every morning for the last few weeks—when she doesn’t have work—has been like this: wake up, check listings for hours, rot in bed for another two while wallowing, then finally picking herself up out of bed to take care of her body’s needs.

It seems to be an endless cycle that she can’t rescue herself from. And she desperately wants to escape.

The sharp ping of her phone interrupts her regularly scheduled sulking. She’s surprised it hasn’t died yet. Her arm drags to reach out for the small device buried within her rumpled, old sheets. It takes some feeling around to find it.

When she brings it to her face, the dim screen alights to show off the brand new notification: a message.

Sito💢 — Mall?

His timing never really errs on the correct side of things. Another sigh, this one gentle, blows past her cracked lips.

You — Too broke and stressed.

A tiny balloon of shame bursts within her as she had pressed ‘send’ on the confession. 

He won’t clown her for it, Sito’s never been one to shit on another person’s financial situation. His family’s been down at a point.

The difference between hers and his, though, is that they were able to pick themselves up out of  that. Something she still faults her father for being unable to do. 

Even if it were a circumstance of luck, why couldn’t they be as lucky? 

Another ping steals her attention away.

Sito💢 — Don’t even tb it

Sito💢 — Yk igu

She stares at his messages, for how long, she’s not sure. Regardless, her delayed response must’ve been long enough to trigger something in him. More messaged come.

Sito💢 — Could tb it over food, I’m buying

Sito💢 — Lmk

The word “food” reminds her body that the last time it’s consumed anything was honestly too long ago to remember—and that she desperately needs to go grocery shopping. 

Her stomach feebly growls.

Sito💢 — Could tb it over food, I’m buying ?

↳ 👍

•

Even with the promise of food, getting ready proved to be an arduous task. She isn’t in the highest of spirits to really dress as nicely as she usually would.

Fishing through the laundry spilling from her closet, she finds her blue Gallery Department hoodie buried under a pile of clothes.

It’s actually Sito’s. Just one of the many pieces she’d stolen from his closet during a visit over to his place.

The hoodie pools around her upper half. She’s got to tuck it under her bra so that it sits right on her. The only pair of denim shorts she can find are her choice of bottoms for the day. 

Her fresh white ankle socks just barely peek out over the low tops of her Converses—a years-old birthday gift.

She ambles out of her room with her phone in one hand and her purse dangling from the other. It isn’t until she reaches the kitchen that she takes a knee to lace up her sneakers.

Just as she finishes the bow of her laces on the second foot, her phone buzzes from beside her foot on the floor. Sito’s contact name flashes across the screen with a FaceTime call. She answers, and her face shrinks as his takes up the entire screen.   

His caramel skin glistens. Fresh braids line his twisting head, dark eyes straying from the camera as his focus is clearly on the road ahead of him.

“Yo.”

“Hey,” she mumbles.

He glances at her, doing a quick once-over of the screen.

“You good?”

“Not really.”

His lips press together in thought as he looks at the road ahead of him. “You gon’ be good, I’m pulling up right now. Come downstairs.”

“Alright.”

“Aight.”

The call ends just as quickly as it started. She shoves her phone into her hoodie pocket and slings her purse over her right shoulder. Quick to grab the keys to her apartment, she heads out of the door and locks it behind herself.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is really a blur. Though, her mind seems to return once she catches sight of the sleek, black Audi Q5. The smile that appears on her face is weak, but at least it’s there.

She’s quick to get to the passenger-side door, pulling it open. “Hey,” she says softly, as she hops into the seat.

The scent of his car warms her chest. So characteristically him. Yet, she can pick up on the separate scent of the cologne he’s wearing, Tom Ford’s Bitter Peach.

He makes the first move, reaching over the middle console to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Wassup.”

She leans into him, her cheek squished against the ball of his shoulder. The hug barely lasts a second. And even with his sweater on, she still feels the chill of when he pulls away.

“You smell good,” he says over the sound of her shuffling in her seat, getting situated.

“Forreal?” The crisp click of her seatbelt cuts through the air.

Looking away, he puts the car in drive, carefully pulling out of the temporary parking spot. “Yeah.”

“Funny thing is, I didn’t even spray nothing on me. I was in a rush, I forgot.” She gathers the hoodie in a pinch, lifting the thick fabric to her freckled, button nose for a quick sniff. “Mmh,” she hums, dropping it. “You’re probably smelling my old perfume on it, I didn’t wash this since the last time I wore it.”

As he’s driving, he seems to do a double-take at her.

“Hol’up—that’s my Gallery hoodie you got on?”

A small, quiet giggle floats from around the nail of her thumb as it’s pushed between the top and bottom rows of her teeth. “I was wondering when you’d notice it was gone.”

“Man, I just got that shit ‘bout … four months ago.” He glances at her one more time, closely eyeing how it shrouds her much smaller frame. “Just spraying your shit all on my clothes like it’s yours.”

“‘Cause it is.” Although quiet, there’s a sass in her tone that relieves him. 

There’s a ghost of a smirk on his pink lips, so faint she doesn’t even see it. “Always playing around in my clothes … barely even notice when something’s missing.”

He isn’t lying. Next to the mall, his closet is her favorite place to shop at.

“I’ma start reporting my shit as stolen.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she mumbles, picking at her outgrown acrylics as she tries to fight back an even bigger smile. “Your mother would not appreciate you lying on my name like that.”

Outside of the car windows, the buildings zoom by. His fast driving hasn’t scared her for a long time. So long as she’s got a functioning seat belt on, she’s secure.

The lemon yellow diamonds on his bracelet glisten when the sunlight hits them; he lifts his hand to play with the curly tuft of hair at his chin. 

“Yeah … you do got my folks thinking you all sweet ‘n’ shit.”

Her eye-roll is polite, despite the rude nature of such an action. “And am.”

“Mmh … nah.” He slows the car as he takes a soft turn. “They just don’t know that you really a brat.”

Her head jerks back, face twisting up with taken offense. “A brat?”

His words posit a bit of energy within her that he enjoyed. Fuck all of that fake, ‘soft-spoken,’ and mopey bullshit.

“No, the fuck I’m not.” She glares his way. 

He grins. “Really? Cause you don’t listen. It’s always an argument, even if you know I’m right.”

“‘Cause you’re not.”

He swipes his tongue along the wall of his cheek. “You think you know everything, huh? You smart, ‘Mani, but you ain’t the only one.”

A scoff. “Really? ‘Cause it feels like it every time we speak.”

He huffs out a breath of laughter, not at all taking her words to heart. “I think you just like hearing yourself talk.”

“I do. Especially when I’m right.” She smiles to herself, triumphantly.

And all he does is shake his head, amused at the whole ordeal. 

Just a quick temperature check, is all that was. He needed to know if her issues were beyond his fixing.

Blindly, he plucks his phone up from its spot in his lap, barely glancing at the screen to unlock it. He tosses the device to her.

“Uh!”

“You been slacking at your job, DJ.”

She kisses her teeth, picking up the phone anyway.

“And don’t play none’a that Slizzy shit. That’s all you been playing lately.”

“Fuck you, it’s good.”

‘It’s really not,’ is what he wants to say. Yet, he holds his fire when he hears the beginning of one of his favorite G Herbo songs over the car’s speakers. 

He begins to bop his head along to the fast-paced beat.

“Yeah, look at you. Like a moth to a flame,” she says with a smirk.

But he doesn’t listen, only happy that he got his way.

As she scrolls through his playlist, looking for a song to queue up that’s more of her taste, a notification pops down on his screen:

Jada — Sitooo

Her eyes narrow. She doesn’t even chance taking a glimpse at him. 

Pursing her lips, Cimani swipes away the message before putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ And, no doubt, Sito’s got his Focus Status shared. 

With a one-sided smile, she clicks on a song she actually likes, queue-be-damned.

He kisses his teeth as what is definitely a Slizzy-type beat, begins to play—MHPG Sound’s MHA.

“‘Mani.”

He glances over at her, a large smile splitting her face in half. She only giggles.

“You getting fired soon.”

She laughs harder.

However, eventually, all of that ruckus dies down. Too soon for her liking, actually. 

The silence that fills the space leaves her too much room to think about her problems again—this Jada-character not being one of them. She’s a problem for a different day.

Even if Sito isn’t constantly looking her way, he still sees the way her face slowly falls in his peripheral.

That somber look returns, dragging her pretty face down while her thoughts appear like a dark cloud over her head. 

Thunder’s rumbling, preparing for lightning to strike.

Money.

Her lease.

The apartment—

“You know what your problem is?”

The impending storm quiets, just long enough for her to hear him. It takes seconds longer than normal for her to digest his words.

With what seems to be a surprise attack on her character, she waits for him to continue so that she may decide whether or not to be rightfully offended.

“You be thinking too hard. All these choices and big ass decisions you try to make.”

The birth of this new conversation steals the spotlight from her other issues, shoving those thoughts to a corner in her mind.

“So, what? I should just stop thinking for myself?”

“Didn’t say all that.”

“So what are you saying, then?”

He inhales. “What I’m saying is that, you don’t need to be doing all that thinking and worrying.”

She can only laugh, more out of shock at his audacity. “Excuse me?”

“You tired of it.” He glances at her. “I could tell … should let me be the one doing all that.”

She tries to ignore the way her stomach drops at those words.

“You?” she asks, as if the mere suggestion was an insult. “Oh, please! The nigga constantly losing his wallet?”

He shrugs. “You know I’m right, ‘Mani. You don’t gotta fry me. I’m being serious.”

She kisses her teeth, turning her head to look out of the window, already over this conversation. “Sito, you’re a man. And the last time I put my life into a man’s hands, I almost ended up homeless.”

“Quit comparing me to other niggas.”

As she opens her mouth to say something, he’s already speaking again.

“Told you ‘bout that. I’m your friend, I’d never do you like that.” 

It’s funny. The mention of their relationship sparks a flame of irritation in her. 

Is Jada a friend?

“I just need you to relax around me. That’s all … Relax, and let me take care of shit. Promise you, you’ll like it.”

Releasing a tired sigh, Cimani decides to keep her thoughts to herself. She turns her body back towards the window, allowing the music to fill the space that their conversation once took up.

•

It’s something about going to the mall—call it the spirit of consumerism taking ahold of her. 

Stepping into the cool, wide open space with sunlight pouring in from the glass ceiling, her mood shifts. She can’t lie. 

The mall has always been a place of good vibes and fun experiences. Especially when it comes to Sito being there. 

They’ve been going together for years, at this point. And one thing that always surprises her is how much his love for shopping matches hers.

Quickly, she learned that he’s a great shopping partner. A great plus, too is that he’s got a commendable taste in fashion. But, he doesn’t need to hear that from her.

Their first time going together, she assumed that he’d be a complainer, whining because she took too long in stores trying on every item that caught her eye. Just like everyone else she’d go with.

However, he managed to be the one to outlast her. By the eighth store, she was tired and cranky. Her feet were killing her, and although he held most of the bags, what little she had were growing heavier by the second. And he had the audacity to ask about going to another store.

“Where you tryna go first?” he asks, looking down at her.

“I don’t know.” She doesn’t spare him a glance, still holding onto that conversation from the car. “I’m not gonna buy anything.”

Sito gives her a pointed look. “Lil’ girl’, please pick a store.”

Ignoring his obvious effort at trying to get under her skin, she peers around the busy space. People of all kinds fill the mall. Some walk together while others walk alone. There’s families, friends, and couples alike. 

Entering through the first floor’s main entrance, they’ve come up on the more mainstream stores. Ones that cater more to the general public.

The more expensive stores and boutiques—your name brands—are situated on the higher level, towards the back of the mall. That’s more of Sito’s spot.

However, though, one of the first floor stores catch her eyes: Windsor. Sito follows her gaze. 

“Aight, c’mon then,” he says, gently taking her wrist to pull her along. 

Her protest is only a silent roll of the eyes.

Upon entering the store, his hand drops hers. “Go crazy.”

With a raised brow and a twisted lip, she glares up at him. “Sito, I don’t have money to waste—”

“So don’t.”

She scowls at him.

Letting go of a stressed sigh, he’s more than ready to give up on this conversation. Because he thought it went unsaid that, “If you want something, I’ma get it.”

For a moment, she only stares. The irritation on her face fades, but it doesn’t disappear. 

“Is this an apology?”

He shrugs. “If that’s how you wanna take it.”

Her bright eyes narrow before rolling yet again. She pulls away from him, heading to the first rack that earns her attention. As she walks away, he looks on with satisfaction.

•

There’s racks on either side of them, clothes strewn all over the place. Hangers are twisted and shoved into spots they don’t belong.

All courtesy of Cimani.

He can admit, his friend is a messy shopper. And while he can’t help but to notice it, she doesn’t seem to even be aware of her issue. Her focus is elsewhere.

“What do you think about this?”

To her chest, she holds up the tiniest tennis skirt Sito has ever seen in his life. 

And yet, his eyebrows don’t even raise a fraction.

He’s familiar with Cimani’s taste in fashion. Skin-tight and revealing. He knows who his friend is; “the shorter, the better,” she once said. 

This late in the game, he doesn’t even blink twice when her pants ride a bit too low on her hips or her shirts are too sheer for her brown nipples.

She’s pretty to look at, why would he complain?

“S’cool,” he says, eyeing it. 

The skirt is a soft cream, so pale that it almost appears to be white.

She raises a brow. “That’s all?”

“It’s your style. You already know you gonna look good in it.”

“Hm.” She turns her back to him, tossing the skirt over her arm as she shuffles through the rack. All the while, she’s pressing her glossed lips together, willing them to stay in a straight line.

The pile of clothes hanging over her left arm piques his curiosity. He leans into one of the racks. “You tryna make an outfit or something?”

“I guess,” she sighs out. “I’m not finding anything cute enough, though.”

If she can find this beautiful skirt, why can’t she walk out of here with a whole new outfit?

And that’s how she spends the next twenty minutes in this store, turning it on its head to find a good enough top to go with it. Though, she doesn’t neglect to swipe up anything else that catches her eyes. 

“What the fuck?” She groans. Frustration creases up her face, as she defeatedly joins the line.

“It’s other stores, Mami,” Sito gently reminds from behind her.

She only rolls her eyes. “I wanted something from here, though.”

Throwing a heavy arm around her shoulders, he pulls her body to his chest. The weight of his pull causes her to scuff her CDG Converses against the toes of his Balenciaga ASICS, but he ignores it.

“You gonna find something.”

Her heart flutters from the affection. She keeps the feeling bottled up.

Silence settles between them for some time as they slowly move up in the line. Sure, the clothes have begun to grow heavy in her arms, but she doesn’t mind it too bad. 

However, the arm around her shoulders is definitely a stronger weight. And even as he scrolls through his phone, hitting up any app that catches his interest, Sito doesn’t pull his arm away. 

How many times has she been in his phone? He’s not too worried.

With no choice left but to watch, her eyes scour his screen with a detached interest. 

Until she looks in the upper right hand corner of the screen to see the ‘Do Not Disturb’s crescent symbol.

Her lips purse.

“So … who’s Jada?”

His thumb twitches over the screen. Against her back, his chest slowly inflates with a deep but slow breath.

“Not anyone you know.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds as she waits for a response.

He kisses his teeth. “She not nobody for you to be worried about.”

Wrong answer. 

“Hope you didn’t leave her on ‘delivered.’”

There’s a subtle twist of her lips now.

“I didn’t.”

Before he can provide a better answer, she pulls away to stand on her own.

He sighs to himself. It’s so soft, it can almost be mistaken as a simple exhale.

Without a doubt, there’s more questions she wants to ask, more things she wants to say. But … she keeps quiet. 

They remain parted until they finally reach the register. 

“Hello, would you like to pay with cash or card?” the cashier asks while tapping away at the register. She’s a younger worker, clearly in her teens. 

Cimani’s lips part to give an answer.

“Card.”

Her mouth shuts, head jerking back as she gives Sito a glare. The cashier simply nods as she begins to scan each item.

“What’s the next store?”

She doesn’t spare him a glance as she shrugs plainly. Her frank demeanor makes him press his lips together in annoyance. He stares her down.

“‘Mani.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

Her upper lip curls in distaste. She doesn’t obey.

“Bro, cmon.”

This time she listens, but the frown on her face deepens. That doesn’t matter too much to him.

“Dap me up.”

With a small grin, he holds out a ringed hand. The diamonds in the jewelry glisten under the store’s warm lighting.

Cimani only gives him a stiff once-over.

“Dap me up,” he presses. The jewelry on his wrist softly clink against each other as he shakes his hand for emphasis.

“Your total is two fifty-six, eighteen,” the cashier cuts in. “You can tap whenever you’re ready.”

Sito wants to groan. Dropping his hand, he retrieves his phone from his pocket to proceed with ApplePay. Shortly after, his phone dings with the successfully completed purchase.

“You over here catching an attitude, but she ain’t the one I’m getting shit for right now.” Reaching over the counter, he grabs the large shopping bags from the cashier’s hand.

“Have a good day,” Cimani tells her with a short smile, before walking ahead of him.

He follows.

“So you do this for all your friends, then?” she asks as they leave the store.

His face twists up. “One—she’s not my friend. And two, Hell nah.” 

Just as fast, he drops the disgusted look. He switches the shopping bags to the other hand, throwing his free arm back around her smaller shoulders. 

“You know I only do this type’a shit for you, Mami.”

Rolling her eyes at the nickname, she begrudgingly succumbs to his affection. Her body goes lax as she eventually leans mores into his touch.

Without a mention, Sito pulls them in a specific route, effectively leading the way to another store.

“Where we going?” she asks after a while.

“This one store I seen.”

When that’s all he says, her face contorts in confusion. “That’s it? What’s the name of the store?”

“Man, I’on know. But, we ‘bout to see, chill.”

She scoffs. “So damn annoying.”

It takes less than five more minutes for them to reach the new location. And “new” it is.

“I never seen this place before,” she says as they cross the threshold.

The store takes on more of a boutique style. There’s decorations of frills, lace, and baby pink all around them. These type of clothes seem to be more of a coquette style.

“Yeah,” he says, leading her towards the back of the store. “Seen it the other day when I came to pick up something.”

A soft gasp leaves her as she places a delicate hand over her chest in offense. “You came to the mall without me? What the fuck, Sito?”

He kisses his teeth, reaching overhead to riffle through a wall-mounted rack. “Relax, just had to get my mom’s pick-up order. I was in and out.”

“So you only went to one store?”

He lifts a cropped cardigan out from behind a couple of its other duplicates. He hands it over. “Yes.”

Without a question, Cimani takes the item. She doesn’t even check the size, confident that he knows hers. 

“You promise?” She gazes up at him with big eyes.

As he stares down at her dramatic pout, he’s reminded of how cherubic her face is.

Faint freckles dot the apples of her cheeks and spill over the bridge of her nose. He only really sees them when he gets this close. On the apple of her left cheek, there’s a tiny beauty mark that stands out. And her lashes—which, speaking of—

“You need a fill-in.”

Her face falls. “Fuck you.”

With a smirk, he huffs out a breath of laughter. “You made an appointment for that yet?”

Finally, she takes a good look at the cardigan he’d given her. She frowns at it. “No.”

“Don’t do that, it’s cute,” he says, referencing the cardigan. “Y’know that’s your style.”

She looks at him challengingly. “Is it?”

“It’s gonna look good on you.” He eyes the piece closely, imagining it with the skirt she just purchased. “But, tell me when you book the appointment.”

“Yeah, you would like to know. ‘Cause you just love running errands with me.” She smirks, throwing the cardigan over her arm.

“I just know you gonna ask for a ride.” He takes her bag from the previous store as she walks over to some dresses. And, of course, he follows. “No car,” he mocks.

She picks up a backless, maxi dress. “Keep being sassy and you won’t have anyone to be taking.”

“Yeah, okay.” He eyes the dress. “Don’t get that.”

Kissing her teeth, her face screws up. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to wear?”

“A nigga that cares, that shit ugly,” he scoffs. “I’on know why you even picked that up. Y’know I’m your stylist.” His statement finishes with a soft smirk, only earning an aggressive eyeroll.

“And what if I like to dress myself, hm? What if I really liked this dress?”

He sucks his teeth, jerking his head back. “C’mon, y’know that’s not gonna fit you right. Look at the cut,” Sito gestures to the baggy fabric. “You too pretty for that.”

Rolling her eyes, Cimani puts the dress back. 

“That’s not even your style. Just picking shit up to do it—“

“Anyway,” she laughs. The bubbly sound tapers off with a sigh. “I can’t really afford a fill-in right now. You know that.”

“That’s why I said to let me know when you book it, duh. Ain’t no other reason I’ma say that.”

“And when the fuck did you become a trick?”

The simple question earns a chuckle out of him as he follows her on the way over to a short rack of cropped tops. 

“You think you funny,” he smiles.

“You’re laughing, aren’t you?” She pushes a hanger or two to the side, trying to find her size.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Cimani only rolls her eyes.

“Quit questioning me. I’m just tryna make sure you look good.”

•

And he wasn’t lying about that. 

After leaving the second store, with Sito having bought her even more clothes, he decides to take her to his list of favorite stores: Alo, Nordstrom, Lulu Lemon, Bloomingdales, and even a couple of sneaker resale stores. 

Granted, he hadn’t bought something from every store they visited, but he undoubtedly dropped about two bands on her. A little less on himself, just a small cop of some shoes he’s been eyeing for some time.

He was ready to spend more, really cash out and make his best friend feel better, but the food court called for them. And when it’s time for them to eat, that typically marks the end of their shopping trip.

The line for their choice of lunch wasn’t horrendously long—a relief when they’ve got at least five large shopping bags between them. 

When they take their seats, Sito is sure to keep them at his feet, underneath the table. There is the soft crinkle of paper bags and wrappers as they chew on their selection of fries and chicken sandwiches. 

As usual, Sito finishes his meal prematurely. He only rolls his bag over, mentally swearing to go back to this leftover fries later—which he never does. To clear his throat, he takes a sip of his lemonade as he eyes Cimani.

“So,” he begins, setting down his half-finished cup. “You wanna talk about it forreal or…?”

She glances up, a blank expression covering her face. “What do you mean?”

“Shit, you tell me. Something’s clearly bothering you.”

It was only a matter of time.

“And don’t try to say it’s nothing.” He points a playfully warning finger in her face.

For a second or two, she only stares at him. But, that’s all it takes for her to crack a smile. With a lazy hand, she pushes his out of her face and looks down at her food.

She doesn’t know what to say first. Her smile falters as she builds her response in her head.

“Life’s just … beating my ass.” 

A soft sigh slips through parted lips. After eating and the natural wear of the day, there’s hardly any trace of her lipgloss left.

She shakes her head. “It’s about my apartment.”

His brows pull together. “What you mean?”

“Like … ugh.” Her head falls into her hands, her elbows pressed into the surface of the table. “Why is apartment searching so hard.”

The wrinkle in his brows deepens. Since when had she been planning to move?

Cimani picks her head up out of her hands. “My lease is ending in less than two months and I can’t afford to renew it. They’re asking for too much.”

“How much?”

She sighs, picking at her fries. “An extra three-hundred.” Her dark eyes flick upwards to peer into his. “I’m already struggling with my rent as is, Sito. I can’t afford this. I’m already burning through my savings trying to keep up ‘cause it took me so long to get this new job.”

Quiet, he rubs a hand down the lower half of his face, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“Everything I find is too expensive, and for what these aprtments are offering, it’s not worth it,” she continues. “Everything in this city is just so fucking expensive.”

The fatigue in her voice is almost tangible.

“And what’s actually in my price range is outside the city, and those units aren’t even an option for me. They’re too far from my job to have to take public transportation every day. I don’t even have a car.”

The more she talks, the more he finds her shrinking in on herself. Her shoulders become more hunched, her voice grows shaky, and her frown deepens. 

She picks at the fraying of her shorts. “I can’t risk being late to this job, Sito. I just started it, I’m still on probation.”

Her cracking voice causes a heavy feeling in his chest. His mouth twitches, threatening to fall into a frown of its own. 

How can he make this better?

It only takes about ten seconds for him to formulate an idea.

“What if I let you borrow my car?”

His words seem to pluck her head up, her eyes wide and brows pulled together. 

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Sito, I can’t—“

“Nah, hol’on—obviously, it’s not gonna be the one I drive. Just take the Benz.”

“Sito—”

“I’m serious.”

‘Just take the Benz.’ Did he even realize how that sounded? Sometimes, Cimani feels like it slips his mind how different things are for them.

“And if I scratch it doing some dumb shit or I get in an accident, then what?”

“Then I get it fixed, ‘Mani.” The wrinkle in Sito’s brows grows deeper. “What you tripping for? You need the car, right?”

“I can’t take your car, Sito.” Reaching out, she plucks a single fry from its container and pops it into her mouth, just to keep her body moving. 

Truth be told, the nature of this conversation has ruined her appetite. She chews for longer than normal.

His sigh, one of stress this time around, is quite loud. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything. But when he finally does… 

“So what you gonna do about the apartment, Mami?” His voice is tendered as he tries to meet her where she’s at.

Mid-swallow, she almost chokes on her food.

The nickname; she’s used to hearing it from him—an inside joke between them that should’ve long since died when he said it by mistake to her, during a heated conversation. 

Too unserious for their own good, the two friends couldn’t help but dissolve into laughter, effectively ending the argument.

Ever since, Sito found himself using it whenever he felt like being funny. 

Actually, that was the case.

She’s not really sure when the change happened, but most times now, she finds him using the nickname with a sincerity that’s almost … sickening. 

It actually tends to catch her off guard more often than not these days.

At the very least, she can acknowledge how she really likes when he says it. Even if, at times, she can’t handle it. Especially those times when he purposely softens his voice just to call her that.

Recentering her breathing, she looks past him.

“I dunno,” she mumbles. “Um … guess I’ll just have to keep … looking.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment. The absence of a response has her believe that he chose to accept the situation for what it is, just like she had. That he chose to drop the subject and that they can get back to their day of fun.

“If you want—and not on no weird shit, aight? I just want you to consider it … you could choose to renew the lease, and I’ll give you the difference.”

“Sito,” she exhales. “I cannot make you pay my rent—“

“It’s a good thing you not making me, then. And I’m not paying your rent, ‘Mani. I’m just giving you the rest of it. That’s all. We don’t gotta talk about it ever. I’ll just set up a payment schedule every month—”

“No, Sito, no. You’re my friend, and I love you—I love that you’re trying to help me. I appreciate you, I really do—even for today. Thank you, but I can’t make you do that. I can’t use you.”

“You not using me ‘Mani, damn.” The signs of irritation bleed onto his face, even if he hadn’t intended for it to show. “Where the fuck you getting that shit from? I just wanna make sure you good.”

“And thank you for that, Sito. Seriously, but I’m never letting a nigga get the chance to say that he’s the one paying my rent or holding my living situation over my head. No one’s ever gonna control me like that. Ever. I need to be able to do this on my own. Just respect my wishes, please? Please.“

His exhale tells her all too well that he isn’t the happiest about this.

“Aight … aight then.“

“Thank you… If you wanna help, just … help me find a new place.”

He licks his lips as he shifts in his seat. He nods. “Okay, I’ma help you.” 

“Thank you.” She gives a somber smile. 

It’s so weak that it trembles under the weight of trying to conceal just how hopeless she is.

Yet, the longer he looks at her, the more that smile cracks. And the cracks just keep getting bigger and bigger until the mask shatters. 

A small whine leaves her as she hides her face in her hands. There’s a hiccup he doesn’t hear, but a wet sniffle comes right after. That, he definitely hears.

“‘Mani—“

“I just feel so fucking … broke and ugly.”

Her shoulders tremble as she begins to wipe at her wet face.

“Like … I’m a fucking bum!”

“Aye.” Sito reaches out for her across the table, gently pulling her hand away from her face. “You not a bum, Mami.”

“I feel like one.”

“But you not. C’mon, quit all that crying.” 

She doesn’t look him in the eyes as he thumbs away her falling tears.

“I can’t even get—get my hair done … o-or do my nails,” her voice wavers. 

She can’t deny that she’s painfully aware of her overgrown nails. At this point, her shorties were now considered medium length.

“My lashes are way past a fill-in, a-and now I-I look like a fucking—cartoon character with j-just three lashes on each eye—“

“Aye, c’mon now. Stop.” He rubs her collected tears between his thumb and forefinger before wiping more of them away. “You know you better than that. You just in a rough spot right now.”

Her face creases up again as another cry leaves her, more tears bubbling up at her waterline.

He pulls his hand away to grab her a clean napkin. “Here—look.”

She sniffles again. “Th-thank you,” she hiccups, taking the napkin.

“You good,” he says softly, watching her clean herself up.

Silence settles over the two of them as Cimani slowly regains her composure while Sito patiently waits for her.

“You not ugly, Cimani. You just not done up, and that’s cool. You’on need all that shit. I know how you step. Don’t gotta prove shit to no one.”

A numb sensation settles over her while she listens to his encouraging words. And she appreciates them more than she can even say.

“Just focus on getting that new place first. We gonna find something.”

The only response she can give is a nod.

Her inhale is shaky. She wipes at her face again. With a tired sigh, she places the balled up napkin down on the table. 

“I don’t even wanna go home tonight,” she croaks.

“You don’t got to.”

Finally, she peers at him with glassy eyes. The frown on her lips has yet to go away.

“You wanna leave?”

She nods.

“Aight.”

•

There is no jingling of keys or the click of a lock when he opens his apartment. Instead, there’s a soft whirr when he simply taps his phone against the electronic lock.

He pushes the door open softly and shifts to the side to let her through. Cimani keeps quiet as she slips past him, entering what Sito’s dubbed as her “second home,” for the first time in a few weeks.

When he enters right after her, he flicks on the lights to his kitchen and living room, illuminating the large, open area.

After leaving her shoes at his door, she heads straight to the couch. As much as she loves his place in all of its sleek, contemporary nature, she’s too exhausted and sad to enjoy the decor tonight.

“I’ma go put the bags in the room,” he mumbles.

She nods as he’s already on the way to his bedroom. Settling back against the large, burnt orange cushions, her eyes fall closed as she exhales.

In this time by herself, her brain replays the issues that plague her life with a kind of hurried exhaustion. 

She doesn’t even hear when Sito comes back out. However, when the knock of a closed cabinet door sounds, she finds him in the kitchen. With a new change of clothes, might she add.

Behind the bar-like counter, he holds the long neck of a wine bottle. Just a few inches away, there are two wine glasses, ready to be filled.

“You look like you need to drink your problems away.”

Her face softly creases with a weak smile. She doesn’t even have it in her to give a tiny laugh. 

The bottle isn’t unopened. Usually, he only brings this one out when she’s over. It’s the only brand he owns that she’ll drink.

Without much thought, unscrews the top off of the bottle and pours the first glass. The drink’s deep red color flows into the crystal clear cup, which he eyes with caution.

“On the table right there, it’s my laptop. You could get it.”

Her brows pull together as she looks at him.

He glances at her, feeling those dark brown—almost black—eyes on him. “We gonna find some listings.”

He had looked back at the cup too quick to notice the way her face softened and opened up. But, maybe it’s a good thing he hadn’t seen it—she gets the feeling that he’s seen her get teary-eyed enough for the day.

By the time she retrieved his laptop, a new MacBook—at least much newer than hers—he’s already heading over to the living room with their glasses of wine.

“Password’s the same as my phone.”

She types away, unlocking the device with ease.

“Thank you,” she glimpses at him as he rests her cup on the coffee table, in a spot closest to her.

He takes his own seat in the crook of the couch’s L-shape, just a cushion or two down from where she sits at.

Cupping the bottom of his glass, Sito holds it close to his mouth as he begins use of his phone. He’s the picture of relaxation, it’s almost funny.

He’s got his glasses on—which he only wears when he really feels like being focused. Straight-leg sweats cover his tatted legs. He’s got the ankle of one resting over the knee of the other, his lifted leg forming a right angle. His raised foot wags, both feet clad in his Balenci house slides.

Truthfully, he looks like somebody’s mother. Especially with his small bonnet covering his cornrows.

“What’s your budget?”

She blinks out of her reverie. “Um … two-thousand?”

He takes a sip of his wine, attention still buried in his phone as he types away.

She decides that before he catches her staring, to focus her attention on the laptop and start searching for apartments.

•

Sade plays softly through his surround sound—he’d decided that they needed the accompaniment of music shortly into their search.

Her cup sat untouched for the better half of an hour before she started to sip on it. She’s not sure what to say about this search.

She’s grateful that Sito’s helping, beyond grateful, but a lot of what they find are listings she’s seen before. Cimani’s come to learn the available apartments of their city like the back of her hand.

And the results they’re getting, for her budget, aren’t really even good enough options. Unsafe neighborhoods, not enough space, bad reviews on landlords, units so in-need of a renovation that it was a safety hazard at this point—it’s a struggle.

Near the bottom of Sito’s cup sits the dregs of his drink. He abandoned it on the coffee table just before he reached the bottom of the cup, claiming to “lock in” on this search.

However, at this point he thinks he actually might need another glass to help him continue this search.

With a soft grunt, he slowly unfolds to reach forward for the wine bottle on the table.

“This shit killing me,” he rasps, pouring into her cup before he does his.

“Imagine I’ve been doing this for months now.”

He kisses his teeth, recapping the bottle. “Might as well live with me at this point.” The laugh that proceeds afterwards, is messy and loose.

That’s the wine talking.

“At this point,” she agrees with a giggle. “Clear out a couple drawers for me.”

Definitely the wine talking.

Cradling his cup, he falls back into the embrace of the couch. All the while, he keeps his eyes on her as a lazy smile lifts his lips.

“You know you gon’ wear all my shit anyway.”

Looking over the edge of his laptop, she finally makes eye contact with him. His gaze is stiff, unmoving, as he holds her stare over the edge of the cup while taking another sip.

His lips smack as he swallows the tart drink. “Could move in tonight if you wanted.”

She only smiles, finally gaining the strength to look back at the laptop’s screen.

“You’on think we could live together?” he pushes.

A shortened piece of laughter leaves her as the state of his lovely space, as opposed to hers, comes to mind.

“No.”

His face scrunches up. “Why?”

“I’m too messy for you, Sito.”

“Oh, so—so you aware.”

“Shut up,” she giggles again.

His smile is smooth as he pulls the sound out of her.

“But…” He sits up on the couch, even leaning forward some. “You know I’ll hire a cleaner behind you.”

The soft slur of his words makes her scoff. She almost can’t even hear it.

He kisses his teeth. “Stop playing with me, you know I’ll do it.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Aight, then. So what’s the issue?”

Pursing her lips, Cimani chances giving him another look. “I thought you hate when I take your clothes.”

The second before he answers, he stares into her eyes as he wets his lips. His own eyes are low. “You know I don’t give a fuck about that shit … be forreal.” A smile inches at her lips.

He only breaks eye contact to push a finger up under the band of his bonnet. His eyes slightly roll off as he scratches an itch.

“You know a nigga like that shit, quit acting dumb.”

She’d heard his mumbled words loud and clear. She swallows, her throat dry. It almost tempts her to take some more wine. But she knows it’ll have her saying stupid shit,

“Do you let Jada wear your stuff?”

Like that.

The smirk she wears is hollow, but only she knows that. But, she can’t deny the pang in her chest that appears when he looks offended at her words.

“Yo—don’t—“ He shakes his head, as if trying to erase his mind like an Etch-A-Sketch. “Why you even bring that up?”

She shrugs weakly, looking back at the computer. “Thought that’s what y’all were on,” she says plainly. Though, on the inside she feels like she stepped on a landmine. “Since, y’know, you said she wasn’t a friend.”

“‘Cause she’s not. How those things even connect? And—yo, stop playing on me, you know I don’t bring nobody back to my place. You crazy?” His face seems to screw up the more he thinks about what she said. “All this shit I got up in here—You the only one I let in here. You know that. Quit acting like—“ 

He cuts himself off with the kiss of his teeth, growing more frustrated. He scrubs a hand down the front of his head, a habit he’s never shaken, even after growing out his waves.

“Yo, quit moving like you’on know who you are and what shit is, ‘Mani. You be pissing me off with that shit, forreal.”

She stays quiet, at war with herself on whether or not it’s good that she wants to smile. On the other hand, Sito reaches forward to gulp down more of his wine.

The conversation leaves off there, both electing to continue their search in silence. And it stays that way for a long while. 

This time around, as they put their all into this, both sparingly touch their cups. It was growing harder to focus with all of the drinking.

But, the silence can’t last forever. A yawn wrestles its way out of Cimani. Shortly after, the same happens for Sito.

Then, there’s another pause for silence.

“Look at what I just sent you.”

Wordlessly, she picks up her phone just as it receives a text. Without hesitance, she opens the link he’d sent her.

For $1,850 a month, it’s a newly renovated one bedroom, one bathroom unit almost twenty minutes from her current apartment. Much closer to her new job. Amenities include a rooftop lounge, a gym, and in-unit laundry. And what’s more, is that it’s conveniently located near public transportation.

“Oh my God,” she says, sitting up straighter, her eyes opening a bit wider. She slides the laptop onto the couch, beside her. “This is perfect. How did you find this?”

This is the first time she’s looked at him in almost an hour. And it brings her some relief to see the tiny grin on his lips.

Their last conversation was forgotten, it seems.

“Told you we was gonna find something.”

Looking back down at her phone, she continues to  scroll through the listing, loving it more by the second.

By the looks of it, she’d have to do some minimal downsizing, but this unit would be the perfect size for her. She’s been meaning to get rid of some hoarded junk for a while now.

As she scrolls to the bottom of the page, ready to apply, reality steps in to remind her that nothing ever just works out perfectly for her.

Her smile drops upon seeing the greyed out text: In Contract.

“What? What happened?” 

She peers up to see him watching her, before she looks back down at the screen.

“It’s already in contract, Sito.” She throws her head back against the couch, groaning out. “What the fuck!”

“Don’t trip, relax. See if they left a email and shoot ‘em one about the listing.”

She picks her head back up, worry all over her face. “Don’t you know what that means? They’re already in the process of renting out the space to someone.”

For the umpteenth time today, he sucks his teeth. “‘Mani, you don’t know what stage of the process they in. They could still be looking for applicants.”

“I don’t think they’re looking for anyone else, they blocked off the option to even apply.”

“Which is why you should email ‘em. They gonna see that you serious about the shit. And if they do go forward with this person, they might got another unit they could offer you just like this one. It looks like this place is new.”

He’s got a point.

“Fine,” she sighs out, resigning to his idea.

Sure enough, she finds an email address for the apartment’s leasing office.

“It’s gonna work, I promise you. That’s how I got my place,” he says as she types out her message.

“Okay, listen to this.”

As she recites her message, he listens intently, seeking out any errors for her to fix. When she finishes, she watches him with bated breath as he thinks it over.

“Mmh … it’s good. Send it.”

“Okay,” she breathes out.

Within that second, she presses the send button on the email and watches it get whisked off to the recipient.

“I hope they get back to me soon,” she pouts, lying back against the couch as she looks over at him.

“Forreal.”

They’re both tired, it’s too obvious in the way their eyes droop and their bodies sag against the couch—likely leaving large indents of where they’d been.

“Ugh, I’m over this,” she says. Feeling a bit better about this whole ordeal, she shuts his laptop and places it back on the coffee table.

As she stands to stretch, Sito remains seated, tapping away at his phone.

“Not even gon’ lie … I’m fake tired, but … not tryna go to bed right now.”

He looks up at her through his glasses, eyeing the way the muscles in her legs flex as she stands on her toes. All these years later, and the history of running competitive track back in high school was still there.

He looks up at her face, seeing that she’s already been staring at him. He’s been caught.

Oops?

“What do you wanna do?” she asks as her arms drop to her sides.

“Not gon’ lie,” he drags out the word, contemplating on saying his idea out loud. “You tryna go live with me?”

Her brows raise. “Live, Sito?”

“It’s lowkey fun, sometimes.” He shrugs.

“Sometimes.” She scoffs. “People are mean online. And you have mad followers, I’m not tryna have all those people talk about me.”

“Please,” he waves off. “You gon’ be fine. I’m not letting them niggas talk about you.”

She looks at him, pressing her lips into a thin line as she weighs her options. “I be reading your comments sometimes, I don’t want none of your thirsty-ass fans saying nothing just ‘cause they see you with a girl.”

“Fans is crazy,” his voice muffled as he rubs a hand down his face. “Not worried about that.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He sits up in an instant, feeling a burst of energy. Standing, he grabs their near-empty cups in one hand and the wine bottle in the other.

“You wanna do it or not? Don’t be boring.”

He leaves the area to enter the kitchen. Setting the bottle down on the counter, he heads over to the sink.

“Are you peer-pressuring me?” Cimani follows after him.

He scoffs. “Yes,” he says, dumping out each glass before opening the pipe to wash it all down.

“That’s terrible.”

“Didn’t hear a ‘no,’ though.”

“That’s how peer-pressure works, dummy.”

The corner of his mouth up-turns. “Then I won.”

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. 

As he sets up to go live on his phone, clearing anything from his space that can be too revealing, Cimani raids his pantry for her favorite snack—Rice Krispie Treats.

The half-empty wine bottle is used as a phone-stand, as he’s too lazy to retrieve his actual one from his office. He sits before the device, at his counter-top, among one of the many bar stools usually tucked beneath it.

“I’m ’bout to start the live. If you don’t wanna be on, let me know and I won’t put you in it.” He opens up the app TikTok. “Just let me know when you wanna pass through so I could move the camera.”

She shakes her head as she swallows a bit of her snack. “I’ll be in it.”

He peers up at her with a raised eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Aight.”

Finally, he starts the live as she watches from behind the counter.

In the first couple of minutes, about three-hundred viewers roll in. He watches the screen, leaned forward on his elbows.

“What’s up, yall. What’s up … goodnight,” he greets.

The comments roll in, greeting him back. Some playfully berate him for the time he’s choosing to go live, claiming they have to miss this one because they have work in the morning, but they just wanted to stop in and say ‘hi.’ 

The views reach to a steady count of over five-hundred people.

“Came on here ‘cause I was bored, ain’t gon’ lie to y’all,” he says, readjusting his bonnet.

Cimani takes the last bite of her snack, crumbling up the wrapper into a little ball in her hand.

The soft crinkling earns his attention, as it had been the only sound while he read more comments. He peers at her over the wine bottle, the two watching each other for a very still, handful of seconds.

He’s the first one to break, quietly chuckling with a fist over his mouth as she smiles, throwing her garbage into the trash can.

His focus returns to the phone.

“‘He got a bonnet on … lawd, who gon’ be the boys?’” He kisses his teeth.

Cimani laughs, careful to keep the sound hushed.

“Man, we not doing that bullshit tonight.” He sits up straighter. “I got hair, and I need a line-up, chill.” He swipes his hand over his head. “Can’t even find none of my durags.”

The sound of Sito explaining himself becomes background noise as she opens his fridge for a bottle of water. The door closes on its own with a soft shut.

As she cracks the bottle open, she notices Sito watching her.

“They asking who in the back.”

She freezes, the cool bottle to her lips.

“They could hear you moving,” he laughs.

She swallows. “Oh, sorry.”

He shakes his head. “You good. Come in the camera,” he beckons her over.

She takes her time to close the bottle before setting in down. As he watches her, pushing back his stool some to allow space, he’s got a smile on his face.

He ignores the small burst in comments, questioning who he’s calling for off-screen.

When she finally joins his side, he pulls her to stand in front of him, before the camera. Holding her by her shoulders, he keeps her steady.

“Introduce yourself.”

“Um—“ she laughs shyly. “Hi,” she waves.

The comments pour in, complimenting her and asking for her name. If there were an insult or two, none of them catch it.

“She being shy, y’all—“

“Shut up—“

“This is ‘Mani.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps, lifting a hand to her head. “Why didn’t you tell me about my hair,” she whines, trying to smooth down the flyaways of her silky bob.

He pulls back, eyes scouring her head for any imperfections he might’ve overlooked.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”

Reaching up, he smooths out the back of her head to make sure that all of her hairs fall straight.

“So why’re you fixing it?” she pouts.

“Chill … just tryna make you straight in the back.”

When it’s finally good enough for him, he returns his attention to the Live’s comments. 

“Yeah, she pretty, right?” 

“They’re actually nice,” she says quietly, her fingers pressed into her lips.

He hums. “Told you, you was gonna be good.” 

Beneath the surface of the bar table, he toys with the fraying of her shorts against her outer thigh. The ticklish touches pull goosebumps up from her skin.

“Um, how was you guys’ day?” She giggles nervously.

Her laugh gets a soft smile out of him. Still eyeing her body, he slips the tip of his finger beneath the leg of her shorts.

“You don’t wanna come up outta these?”

The question catches her off guard, admittedly. She looks down at him, already seeing him stare up at her.

“I … don’t have any clothes over.”

Her voice is quiet, hoping the viewers don’t hear her. She isn’t the most sure of Sito’s reputation online, and she certainly wouldn’t want to ruin it.

“Just take one’a my sweats.”

His voice is noticeably louder, even clearer, than hers.

So, he just doesn’t give a fuck? Got it.

She just nods, recentering her focus back on the live.

“So … we did some shopping today,” he says from behind her. “I ain’t get nothing crazy, just a pair of shoes.” His hands rest on the countertop on either side of her, keeping her in place. “Tell ‘em what you got.” 

“I don’t even remember everything I got.” 

“Oh, wait, you should show ‘em.” He peers from her to the screen. “Y’all tryna see a haul?”

There are too many ’yes’s to count. And it makes her heart race. 

“Sh-should I try them on?”

He shrugs, sitting back in his chair to give her space to leave. “It’s up to you.”

“Alright, um … I’m gonna get the bags.”

As she leaves, Sito monitors the comments, making sure his moderators were doing their job.

User23567907796 So r yall friends orrrr ..

User99645663265 Did I miss a chapter?????

User44666321677 Umm hard launch?🤔

User33561123230 She bad asf tho icl

With every question he answers, there’s a dejected tone in his voice.

“Did you miss a chapter?” He shakes his head. “Nah. You ain’t miss nothing … we friends.” With a finger, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “‘She bad’ … Yeah, she get fly.”

Any comment regarding his looks or trying to spit game at him is left unacknowledged. 

Minutes later, Cimani returns with her bags of purchased items. To which, Sito offers up his seat. She takes it, sitting before the camera.

“Um, I got more clothes than anything,” she starts. “I got one pair of shoes but that’s it. I—“

“Show ‘em,” he says from behind, peering down at her.

She glances back at him. “Huh?”

“Show ‘em the shoes first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Bending down, she rifles through one of the bags to retrieve the box. Balancing it on her lap, she’s careful when taking out the brand new, shiny right foot to her pink Bapestas.

“We got them from a reseller shop,” she says as she shows it off to the camera.

Silently, he reaches out from behind her to assist her in correctly positioning the shoe for the viewers to see.

“Gotta make sure it’s in focus,” he says softly.

“Oh.”

Neither of them read the comments, gushing over how this is clearly her first time interacting with a large audience. 

“You guys see it?” she asks.

“They see it, Mami.”

Her cheeks ache from how long she’s been able to hold a smile. But she can’t stop. Even when she tries to lose it, it’s like the muscles in her face are permanently fixed in this expression.

“Okay,” she says softly, putting the shoe away. “Um … I’m gonna do the clothes now,” she says, looking between the bags to decide which to start on first.

As she scans through each bag, she worries her bottom lip. Would they even find this interesting?

“Start with that one.”

She looks up in time to see him nodding at a large, pale pink bag. Wordlessly, she reaches in, retrieving the first item: a soft white, milk maid style dress.

“Sito actually picked this one out, for me,” she tells the viewers as she holds it up for them. “I accepted, ‘cause it’s close to my style, honestly.”

As she continues showing off her brand new items to the audience, moving through each store, Sito notes her increasing comfort.

Eventually, he even leaves the camera to let her do her own thing. It’s endearing, watching her speak to the viewers. Showing off everything he bought her. Seeing the way her eyes light up with each item, as if she hadn’t been holding them just a few hours before.

As he holds a water bottle, having gotten it from the fridge, he decides that looking at this scene before him—that he likes this. He really likes this.

He’d made the perfect decisions for her, picking out clothes that not only would she like, but would fit her well. That would compliment her.

“I’m not really sure how much all of this was, I can’t lie,” Cimani laughs, answering a frequently asked question among the Live comments.

Rounding the counter, Sito is back in front of the camera with her.

“No, y’all—Sito bought me all these.”

The admitted truth was uttered with an air of shyness. Maybe she was worried about the reaction she’d garner—rightfully so.

And yet, Sito couldn’t find it within himself to care. In fact, he actually felt a seed of pride blossom within him.

Watching the comments roll in, his nose twitches as he reads over one in particular. Her catches it just as Cimani gets up out of the chair.

User2293902682 Better watch out for these females theyll use u

His face twists into a scowl. “Nigga shut the fuck up.” He reclaims his seat before the camera. “I hate a bitchass nigga that just talks.” He kisses his teeth. “Somebody ban that nigga.”

“You’re about to get banned, if you keep cursing like that,” she jokes. “What’d they even say?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Looking over his shoulder at her, he notes the large Alo bag in her hand, looking as though she’s about to leave. “Where you going?”

“I wanted to try on the set you got me. Remember? I didn’t get to try it on in-store.”

He hums, turning back around to look at the live.

Running into his room, she hurries to pull out the grey, cotton ribbed Alo set. She’d always been between sizes. She can only hope that they bought the right size.

Slipping into the set, it feels wonderful against her skin. Her hands spread over her body, feeling over the smooth fabric. The crisp tags dangle from the bra top and leggings.

She pads over to the large mirror staged in the corner of Sito’s room. The set hugs her small frame, even bringing out the faint curve of her hips and the cuff of her small butt.

Staring at her reflection, she can do nothing but smile. 

When she can finally pull herself away from the mirror and out of the room, she re-emerges with a pep in her step.

“Look!”

Sito turns around to see her in her new set. 

“I’m surprised the extra-small fits! I thought I would’ve needed smaller.”

As she gets closer to him, he moves the phone just a few inches over to let the Live see.

“Y’all, look! Isn’t it cute?”

Sat back in his seat, an arm perched on the armrest of the stool, Sito’s cheek is pressed against his knuckles. As Cimani spins and poses for the viewers, he watches on as well. 

Behind the lenses of his undoubtedly expensive frames, his dark eyes run up and down her body. He notes the figure-hugging material, how it makes her butt look just a little perkier.

“Yeah … it’s cute, Mami.”

The words had flowed smoothly from his lips without much of a thought.

“Yeah,” she agrees softly, looking at him with a gentle smile as she toys with the waistband of the leggings. 

The longer he stares, he notices the slight twist in the seam along her butt.

“Come,” he motions over. “Lemme fix it.”

She looks over at him, doe eyes wide with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer as she enters his space, sliding in between his spread legs. 

“The pants is twisted.”

His touch is soft and careful. He barely tugs at the waist band to fix it, while also pulling them up an inch higher. His hands smooth down the sides of her hips, coming to rest at their widest part.

“It’s good now?” she asks, peering down at him.

Licking his lips, he peers up at her. “Yeah.”

Seconds seem to fly by as they stare into each other’s eyes. Cimani is the first to look away, distracting herself with the Live comments.

She gasps, covering her mouth with a hand. “Oh my gosh. They’re going so fast.”

Turning his head, he finally looks back at the Live. He tries to read what he can catch. And from what he can see, damn near all of the comments are about his touchiness regarding his best friend. 

Yet, he still doesn’t pull his hands away.

In fact, his arms encircle her small waist, keeping her in place as he leans against her. 

“I can’t even read them.” She laughs as she passes a hand over his head, feeling the curves of his cornrows beneath the bonnet’s satin.

User282884928 Yall sure yall just friends??

User9298392792I wish my boy bsf treated me to a shopping spree 🙄

User0829927881Are we interrupting🤨

User104882929Jus looked at my bestie and sighed.

She seems to catch the final comment, laughing at the joke. 

“Oh,” she gasps, jumping out of his hold. “The outfit I made—with the skirt? I need to see it.”

Before he can respond, she’s running back to the room with more bags.

As she’s gone, in the mean time, Sito is putting his focus back in the live. There’s mini updates he provides to his audience, informing them on progressions of small tidbits about his life he entails in his TikTok videos.

As he’s talking to them with mild interest, Cimani finally resurfaces.

“I hate to admit it, but you were right about the cardigan.”

He turns his head to see her standing in the hallway that leads to his room. She’s halfway revealed, the lower half of her body hidden in the shadows.

He spins his chair to see her. “Lemme see?”

She steps a few inches forward. The cardigan is stylishly baggy on her, the top button left undone to show subtle cleavage. Its vibrant color pairs wonderfully with the skirt she’d found.

And speaking of said skirt; as she does a little twist, his first impression of the item is confirmed before his very eyes. If she were to bend down even an inch, her ass would be out. 

Granted, she doesn’t have all that much to show off, but the skirt sits pertly on her brown cheeks, teasing at a show. 

“Oh, you can’t show ‘em that,” he says, chasing his phone for it to lay flat on the counter. 

His audience gets a front-row seat to his tall ceilings.

“Come.”

She ambles over to him without hesitation.

“It’s cute right?” she asks, filing back in between his legs.

“You know it is.” Thoughtlessly, he reaches out and cards his fingers between hers, gripping her hand tight. “Didn’t need me to pick it out for you.”

She laughs, the apples of her cheeks lifted to the heavens above. He’s staring at her lips, unabashedly so. There’s a haze to his eyes, he isn’t the most present right now.

How much restraint is he practicing to keep himself from spinning her around and pulling her smaller body on his lap?

Better yet, how much restraint is he practicing that he’s only now picturing just how easy it would be to have her bouncing on his dick?

It would be nothing, she’s so light. He’d be the only controlling her, doing all the work while she just takes it—all of him. Probably crying about how she can’t take it, but about how good it feels. Her cute ass cheeks dropping over his lap. How deep her arch—

“You look pretty, Mami.”

Her brown face is flushed. He can see it.

“Thanks.” She really can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t gotta thank me.” He lets go of her hand to snake his around her waist, cradling the small of her back.

Her expression barely drops for a second as she remembers the Live. “Did you end it?” 

She twists to look at his phone, slightly bending to read the screen.

It’s inevitable, he catches a glimpse of her panties beneath the skirt—a pale, lilac thong that disappears between her cheeks. Yet, he sees the patch of it that covers her.

He swears, it was only a second … but that was the longest second of his life. Time must’ve slowed, because he can recall the barest details of her body. Down to the outline of her lips through the thin cotton. So small and cute in size, like a little pocket.

A burst of heat runs throughout his body.

“Hey, guys,” he hears her say. 

But the Live be damned. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he releases a tired sigh. “Aight, I’m done,” he croaks.

She slips the phone in his hand. He’s the only one filling the screen now, the comments begging for more of Cimani—and asking about that “moment” they just had.

“I’m done talking to y’all niggas.”

With two quick taps of a thumb, he cuts the live off.

“Awe,” Cimani pouts. “That was fun.”

Lifting his arms above his head, he stretches, the bones in his shoulders popping and cracking as he does so. “Mmph—was getting … tired of that shit.”

“Okay, well, bed-time I guess,” she smiles.

“Yeah,” he says, looking elsewhere.

“Help me bring the rest of the bags back in the room?”

Silently, he pulls himself to stand. Together, they bring the bags into his room, positing them in the corner near the mirror.

Getting ready for bed was a smooth process. He’d given her a pair of clothes to sleep in for the night—a large black tee, a random pair of shorts, and an unused pair of boxers he’d recently bought (even though she had to roll them up at the waist to be able to wear them). They showered and brushed their teeth in separate bathrooms, meeting back up in his bed for the night.

“Why this look like my bonnet?” Cimani asks, analyzing the small, satin black bonnet he had passed her.

“It is,” he chuckles, slowly climbing into bed next to her. “You left it over there from last time.”

“Oh.”

With ease, Sito pulls the comforter up high, shielding them from the cool temperature of his room. They don’t go to bed right away, that’s never a reality for either of them.

In fact, they sit up against the soft, fluffy pillows, scrolling through any social media app that catches their attention at the time. They aren’t particularly quiet, either. Cimani plays TikToks quite loudly on her phone, while Sito does his nightly scroll through Twitter.

This grown-up form of adjacent play continues for almost half-an-hour before Sito closes his phone. Setting the device down against his chest, he turns to look at her as she laughs at yet another video.

“Yo, you booked that appointment yet?”

“Huh?” Her focus bounces back and forth between him and the phone. “What, for my lashes?”

“Yeah.” His voice is heavy with fatigue.

“No, Sito,” she stresses, as if this current conversation is an inconvenience to her nightly entertainment.

“Why?”

She sucks her teeth, rolling her eyes as she finally puts the phone down. “Do you wanna do it now?”

Lazily, he shrugs. “Better now than later.”

“Fine,” she sighs, feigning annoyance.

“Yeah, okay,” he side-eyes her. “Matter fact—book the nail appointment first.”

Switching to her Instagram, Cimani pulls up her nail tech’s page to get to her booking site, one tap at a time.

“Hurry up—“

“Don’t rush me.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. Reaching over, Sito plucks the device from her grasp.

“Hey—“

“Moving too slow.”

Her upper lip screws up in distaste. Nevertheless, she saddles up to his side, watching him fill out her information for the appointment.

“How ya toes look?” He asks, side-eyeing her as his finger hovers over the ‘package’ section.

“Oh my gosh,” she whines, covering her mouth with her hand. “So bad.”

“Lemme see.”

“No!”

He sucks his teeth and gives her a pointed look. “‘Mani.”

“Okay, but don’t say anything!”

Underneath the covers, her leg shifts. She throws it over his hip. Reaching beneath the comforter, Sito blindly fishes for her small foot. Holding her soft sole in hand, he lifts her leg some and pushes down the covers just a bit to examine her toes.

There’s nothing wrong with them. Her white, gel polish is just chipped, but nothing terrible. And even with the old paint job, she still has cute feet. Nothing wrong with them at all.

“Yeah, you need ‘em done.”

“Boy, fuck you.”

“Mmh,” he hums with a one-sided grin.

The appointment is booked with ease before he passes the phone back. “Now book that lash appointment.”

As she does so, he retrieves his phone to continue his twitter scroll.

All the while, her foot remains in his hand, playing with her toes and even massaging her sole. And neither of them say anything about it, enjoying the moment too much to have mention of it mess things up.

Honestly, ‘Mani’s glad that she doesn’t have to outwardly acknowledge it. How can she even explain to him how much she enjoys his gentle touch?

Eventually, it lulls her to sleep. 

Tonight is the first night in a while, that she doesn’t go to bed worried about her future.

ᥫ᭡

MIDNIGHT BLUE OR TORTOISE SHELL BROWN?

Cimani is confident in her ability to make good decisions. She isn’t indecisive, and for as long as she can remember, has never needed anyone to decide anything for her.

She’s prideful about that.

However, swiping back and forth between the two inspo-pictures she’d found from her Pinterest, her bottom lip is caught between her silver-tracked teeth.

It seems her decisiveness has abandoned her.

She wets her lips before speaking. “Sito?”

“Hm?” He hums around his plastic straw.

Stretching an arm over the console, she shows him her screen, looking him in the eyes with a light frown on her two-toned lips. A finger swipes back and forth between the two images.

“Which one?”

Thick brows pull together as his brain struggles to catch up with her rushed thinking. Still sucking down his sprite, he reaches out for the phone, putting a halt to her quick swiping.

She relinquishes her device to him. As he takes the phone, he takes his time to look at each photo. 

Cimani eyes him carefully for a few seconds, then the phone, as if trying to observe them in the same way he does. Then she looks back at him.

“C’mon, which one?”

The urgency in her voice doesn’t make him choose any faster. His cheeks cave in as he only keeps drinking.

She sucks her teeth, sitting back in her car seat with folded arms.

He swallows. “Blue.” He tosses the device into her lap, turning his attention back on the parked car in front of them.

“What? What’s wrong with the brown?” She scrapes her phone up, looking back at the photo of the brown acrylics. “It’s different.”

The ice in his cup tumbles around as he rests his cup in one of the twin cup-holders. 

“You asked my opinion—” He covers his mouth with a fist as a soft burp leaves him.

“I know, but—the brown’s cute!” She pouts, peering back at the blue nails.

“The blue would look better with your skin.”

He’s got a point. Sito has always thought that rich or saturated colors fit her deep brown skin so well. But, he keeps that thought to himself.

He pulls out his phone, copy-and-pasting the address she’d sent him earlier, into his Apple Maps.

She’s not so quick to respond this time, looking down at her screen with furrowed brows and a deeper frown.

“I feel like I should get the brown.“

“‘Mani—“

“No, I’m gonna get the brown! I really feel like it’ll be good.” She reaches across the console again to steal a fry from his bag of food. Before he can smack her hand away, she snatches it back. With a triumphant smile on her spit-shined lips, she pops it in her mouth.

He remains quiet, pressing his own lips together as he starts the GPS for her nail tech’s location.

It’s only about a twenty minute ride, it would’ve been shorter, but Sito had decided that it would be a good idea to get food beforehand. She found herself agreeing with his decision when they pulled into the drive-thru. 

With only ten minutes left of the drive, Cimani is presenting her phone to him at a stop light, once again. 

“Which one?”

He’s ready to give an honest answer, until he sees that it’s the nails, again.

He kisses his teeth. “Bro—“

“I’m not your bro. Now which?”

His eyes switch back and forth between the red light and her changing screen. “Wha—that one.” He tries to point, just as he lifts his hand, the light turns green.

“This one?” She smiles, swiping back to the brown.

He waits until she swipes back and lingers a second too long on the blue acrylics. “No—get that one.”

“Ugh!”

He sighs quietly to himself. “I don’t know why you keep asking me. Already told you which one to get…”

For a short moment, she quietly taps away at her phone. He almost thinks she’s ignoring him. “I like the tortoise shell one better.”

That’s where the conversation ends. 

With a practiced perfection, Sito parallel parks into an empty spot right in front of Cimani’s nail tech’s studio.

“Thank you,” she sings, slinging her mini-purse over her slender shoulder.

“Mhm,” he says, putting the car in park. Sitting back in his seat, he pulls his phone back out.

The soft ding of her phone chimes just as the back of it flashes with light. She quickly glances at the screen as she opens the car door. 

An Apple Cash from Sito, for $230.

She peers back at him over her shoulder with pursed lips.

“Get the blue,” he mumbles, still on his phone.

“Whatever.” 

She steps out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

•

He doesn’t jump when the car door suddenly opens. Cimani made sure to text him five minutes before she finished, to give him a heads-up. 

In fact, he’s pretty sure she was texting him throughout her entire appointment. If she wasn’t actually texting him, she was sending him Tiktoks or Reels/posts.

And if he dared to complain—not that he would—she would guilt trip him for being a bad “best friend” to her. 

The last time she’d said that, as he was taking her to her gynecologist appointment, he only scoffed. 

“Sitooo,” she sings, plopping into her designated seat in his Audi. “I’m back! Did you miss me?”

He side-eyes her, his gaze heading straight for her hand that clutches her phone. Wrapped around the device are perfectly shaped, long square, ombré blue acrylics.

Exactly.

“Yeah,” he says simply, turning the car back on.

“Better have.” She fixes her legging after they’d ridden up her thighs. “Where we going now?”

He scoffs. “I’m taking you home, I got shit to do.”

Her face falls. “What?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, putting the car into drive.

“So I can’t come?” She scowls.

He doesn’t even have to look over at her to see it. “‘Cause it’s some boring ass shit. M’not gonna keep you couped up in the car.”

“So? We do errands together all the time!” In a flash, a deep furrow wrinkles her brows. “Where you going that I can’t come?”

“Bro, you know you’re gonna complain if I keep you bored in here.”

She fully turns her body to face him, crossing her arms. “If you’re going to see Jada, you could just say that.”

He only exhales, focusing on the road ahead of them. And his silence washes away her anger. Cimani’s brows smoothen out as they pull apart, and her pout is back.

“Sito,” she whines. “Are you serious?”

He glances at her, seeing the sadness on her face.

Quickly putting on his turn signal, he switches lanes. “Stop bringing her up. I don’t even talk to her no more.”

“So where are you going?” 

He wants to laugh, he almost does. She sounds like a kid, begging to tag along.

“I’m just going to the shop, get my shit fixed,” he gestures to his head.

She eyes his braids with a scowl, noting his outgrown hairline. “Your hair looks fine to me. Who the fuck are you fixing it up for?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up as he scoffs. “You, before you start cuttin’ my ass about needing a line-up.”

She hums before looking out of the window, seeing the familiar buildings of her neighborhood. “Yeah, you do need to fix that.”

He kisses his teeth. “See? But you just said my shit was fine.”

“I don’t care.”

He rolls his eyes. “But I gotta go take my cousin to pick up his car from the mechanic after.”

“Excuses,” she mutters.

“You being bratty.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road. 

“And you’re being weird, like we don’t hang out all the time.” Finally, she turns to him. “What’s so different this time?”

“‘Cause I gotta get my cousin,” he kisses his teeth. “I’d rather it just be us, to be honest.”

Cimani keeps quiet at that. Her silence earns her a quick glance.

“I’m sorry, aight?”

No answer.

“I’ll call you tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, still yet unsatisfied with the outcome of this all. Sighing, Sito settles for her silence that comes with what’s left of their ride.

As he finally pulls up to the front of her apartment, he unlocks her door.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says quietly, grabbing her bag.

“‘Mani.”

She addresses him with a pointed look, like he’s wasting her time.

“C’mon, bro. Stop acting like that, please.”

When she exhales, her tense shoulders deflate. Her eyes fall elsewhere, unable to look him in the eyes. “Okay.”

He raises his brows, leaning towards her. “You gon’ call me tonight?”

“Yes,” she rolls her eyes.

He sits back in his seat, quite satisfied with that answer. He’s even got a small grin on his face. “Thank you.”

Even with her frustrations against him, she stretches over the console and throws an arm around his shoulders for a close hug. As always, she pushes her small face in the warm crook of his neck. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her torso, rubbing her back. 

“You better not be out all night.”

He fights a shudder back as her lips fluttered against his skin with her softly spoken warning.

“Y’know I won’t.”

The deep rumble of his voice does something to her chest, it makes her feel weak.

After a couple of seconds, they finally pull apart, and before he knows it, she’s out of the car and shutting the door.

He doesn’t pull off until he sees her reach inside the building.

PART 2 HERE

TAGLIST • @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @thegoatedaries @nova2kss @thecoochiefairy @plutobratz @levibabymama @bubblegum-lollipop @junitries @thevelvetwhispers @pussypinkdoll @venusincleo @soupersaldz @synicalslut

BANNERS • @cursed-carmine | @adornedwithlight & @cafekitsune

[itsnesss]

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 | oscar piastri × fem!reader

summary | you lose yourself in him, off camera, where no one’s watching and everything feels real

warnings | tension, smut, explicit content, oral (reader!receives), p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 3.7 k

🖇 more op81 🖇 f1 masterlist

The camera spins around you, capturing the perfect scene. You're standing next to Oscar, both dressed in F1 driver suits, posing under the bright lights illuminating the set. The production for the new F1 commercial is in full swing, and although everything appears highly professional, there's something in the air—something between you and Oscar—that makes the tension palpable, even while the cameras keep rolling.

Oscar is so close you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes, so intense, watch you with a curiosity that, though subtle, you can’t help but notice. Everything else fades away as the camera flashes illuminate your faces. You’re acutely aware of every small movement he makes, of every glance he sends your way as you both play your roles as rival drivers—but something else is beginning to stir in the atmosphere.

The forced smiles only intensify the electricity. You see how his lips curl into that almost-defiant, ever-present, yet mysterious smile. For some reason, you find yourself trapped by it.

The filming progresses quickly, but as the shots continue, you realize that the line between professional and personal is starting to blur. The gestures, once calculated and perfected, now seem to be laced with something deeper—something neither of you can hide.

"Perfect, all good. Let's take a break, guys," says the director, and the sound of "cut" slices through the air, finally breaking the charged atmosphere that had been building between the two of you.

The set begins to calm down as the crew adjusts the equipment. The buzz of conversation and the hurried footsteps of the assistants momentarily pull you out of what you just felt. But for some reason, it’s impossible to shake the sensation that something has changed.

Oscar walks up to you, his gaze more intense than before. Without words, he nods slightly. It’s an invitation—no need for anything more. You follow his lead to a secluded corner, where the noise of the set fades. The air feels heavier, now away from the cameras. He leans casually against a wall, his silhouette lit by the sunlight streaming through the studio windows. Something about his posture makes you wonder if he’s really as calm as he looks. But when you meet his eyes, you know he’s not. Neither are you.

"Want to go out for some fresh air?" he asks, his voice low, but the way he looks at you makes it feel like he’s waiting for a specific answer.

In any other context, you might’ve said no. But something inside pushes you to say yes. You accept the invitation and follow him outside, where the sun is beginning to set. The sky is painted with soft orange hues, and the cool air sends a shiver down your spine.

You both walk in silence, but the space between you is minimal. The quiet isn’t awkward—it’s charged with something far more intense. The wind gently moves your hair, but your thoughts are consumed by him. By how close he is, how easy it would be to lean in.

Oscar exhales softly, as if restraining something inside, before breaking the silence.

"This..." he begins, but seems unsure how to continue. For a moment, he looks vulnerable—something you never expected from him. But that fleeting vulnerability only makes you feel more connected. It’s strange, you know it is, but the spark between you has ignited.

You stop by a wooden bench in the studio courtyard, and he does too. He’s close—close enough that you can feel his breath match yours. The sun dips lower, painting the horizon with golden and reddish hues. The peaceful moment contrasts with the tension that’s been mounting.

Oscar watches you, eyes locked onto yours, and in them, you see something different. What is it? Desire? Uncertainty? Questions flood your mind, but you don’t dare voice them. You don’t have to.

"What’s wrong?" you ask with a slight smile, trying to cut the tension. But the moment you speak, you realize words aren’t enough to ease the fire building between you.

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. He steps closer, and the proximity makes your breath hitch. A shiver runs through you when his index finger brushes your arm casually—but his touch is anything but. It feels like the beginning of something inevitable, something you can’t undo.

You're caught between the urge to pull away and the irresistible force of attraction. You can’t look away from his eyes, and before you realize it, you're leaning in. The tension snaps in a second.

Without breaking eye contact, Oscar leans in, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. At first, everything feels like it's in slow motion. The brush of his lips is tentative, but it feels like time has frozen. Every second, every inch of closeness grows more intense.

You tremble—not from the cool air, but from the heat pulsing in your chest. Oscar doesn’t rush. His hand slides up to your neck, fingers gently tracing your skin as he deepens the kiss, unhurried but full of pent-up need.

When you pull away slightly, the air between you is thicker than ever. You stare at each other in silence, breathing heavily.

"This is crazy," you whisper, trying to catch your breath. Even your voice sounds strange—distant, like everything is still in slow motion.

"Yeah," he replies, his tone low, barely audible. "It’s crazy."

But he doesn’t step back. Instead, his hands move down your sides, touching you through the fabric of your shirt. The feel of his fingers makes your heart race, and without thinking, you lean into him again, chasing that contact that left you breathless.

Sensing your movement, Oscar closes the gap swiftly, pulling you into another kiss. This time, it’s fiercer—like neither of you can hold back any longer, like the line between want and need has completely vanished.

His hands slide down your back, lower this time, until they reach your hips. The touch is firm but gentle, and you can feel the heat of his body through your clothes. Your own hands respond, roaming over his chest, down the fabric of his jacket, hungry to feel his skin. The craving for more takes over, and you find yourself wanting something you hadn’t even considered before.

Oscar pulls away slowly, a playful smirk curving his lips. His breathing is ragged, but there’s something in his eyes that leaves you speechless. He’s changed. He’s no longer the distant, composed guy you knew—he’s here, with you, burning with intensity.

"We can’t do this here," he murmurs, sending a shiver down your spine with just those words. But he doesn’t look away.

"Why not?" you ask, more teasing than anything, knowing that each word only drives him closer to the edge.

Oscar watches you for a moment, his expression softening though the fire in his eyes hasn’t dimmed. Finally, he takes a step back—but not too far. He grabs your hand firmly, and a new silence settles between you. Without speaking, he leads you to the back entrance of a nearby building, away from prying eyes. All that remains is the urgency you both carry, as if time no longer exists.

Once inside, Oscar closes the door behind you, and the click of the lock echoes in the air like a signal that there’s no turning back. You’re alone with him, and you both know exactly what you want. The desire can no longer be hidden.

He stares at you for a moment, as if deciding something, then steps forward. His body inches from yours again, and once more, the distance disappears. His hands cup your face gently, contradicting the burning urgency you both feel—but when his lips find yours again, it’s nothing but fiery and demanding. There are no more doubts, no room for anything but this kiss.

You teeter between the desire to surrender completely and the need to think—but in that moment, all you can do is follow him, matching his pace, because he knows what he’s doing. Every move he makes, every touch of his hand, every sweep of his tongue over yours forces you to release everything you’ve been holding back.

Your hands move to his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles, and you realize just how desperate he is not to stop. His lips trail down your jaw, to your neck, and the brush of his breath on your skin sends a shiver through your body you can’t control.

"Oscar…" you whisper, unable to say much more than his name. He lifts his head to look at you, but there are no words—just the promise in his eyes. You don’t need him to say anything, because you both understand without speaking.

With nearly frantic hands, Oscar begins to undo the buttons on your shirt, his fingers sure but gentle, as if each movement is designed to make your heart race faster. You respond immediately, tugging at the hem of his shirt, craving the feel of his skin. The world outside disappears—there’s nothing left but the need to be closer, to become one in this moment.

The heat between you is unbearable. The cool air outside, the spinning world—it all fades away. All that matters is this contact, the desire to lose yourselves in each other. Every touch becomes more urgent, more demanding, and with every kiss, the need grows stronger.

Soon, the sound of your zipper joins the soft gasps escaping your mouths. The haste is clear, and what started as a camera-ready act has turned into something far more personal, far deeper.

Oscar’s body is now pressed entirely against yours, and the feel of his skin, his warmth, surrounds you completely. You feel him, fully, and even though you know this will change everything—you don’t stop. You don’t want to.

The temperature rises, your breathing quickens, and in that moment, the pressure of everything you’ve held back releases in one unforgettable instant.

Oscar lets out a deep gasp as he holds you close. His lips now hover near your ear, whispering with a mix of desire and urgency that sends shivers down your spine.

"This... this is crazy," he says, voice hoarse, breath ragged. The pressure of his body increases, and you feel the frantic rise and fall of his chest.

You can barely think. Everything around you vanishes. All you feel is his body—hot and firm against yours—and the rush of his breath, wild and overwhelming, wrapping you in a spiral of sensation. Your fingers tremble as you explore him, sliding along his torso, and suddenly you find yourself wanting more—so much more than you thought you could.

Oscar seems to be struggling to maintain control, but the way he touches you, as if claiming every inch of you, shows otherwise. Every move becomes more desperate, more intense.

"I don’t want to stop..." he murmurs, his words filled with longing, followed by another deep gasp like he can’t bear the tension anymore.

It’s not just the closeness—it’s the way his hands grip your back, trailing down to your waist, where they hold you tight. His muscles tense as he pulls you even closer, as if he wants to merge with you. His kisses, once soft and restrained, now burn with desperation, pressing against your lips with a force that takes your breath away.

You gasp, unable to hold back. Every brush of his tongue, every caress of his hands makes you forget everything else. There are no cameras, no spotlight—just the two of you, and the desire consuming you mercilessly.

"I don’t know if I can..." he whispers, his voice breaking under his heavy breathing. He knows what he’s saying—you feel it in his words—but his hands don’t stop moving over you, almost as if he physically can’t. Every touch is a promise, and you know it well.

Oscar pulls back slightly, though there's barely any space between you. His face is flushed, his eyes locked onto yours with a mix of desire and uncertainty that leaves you speechless.

"This is more than I planned..." he pants, but his hands rise to your face, like he’s searching for your answer, your permission. The touch of his fingers sends a jolt through you.

You can’t answer with words. Only sighs escape your lips—a raw, unfiltered need. You have to touch him, and you do. Your hands glide along his back, beneath his shirt, craving the warm skin beneath. You feel him shudder, his breathing picking up with each caress, each stroke.

The chemistry is undeniable—everything that had been held back finally surges to the surface. You can’t stop. Neither of you can.

"I don’t want to regret this..." he whispers, and the vulnerability in his tone surprises you. But there’s no room for regrets now. Not in this moment, not with him so close, so real.

With new urgency, Oscar kisses you again—deeper, hungrier. This time, he doesn’t stop, even as he presses you against the wall with a firm push. The breathless sounds you both make fill the room, and for a moment, it feels like the world has ceased to exist.

In the way his hands grip your waist, in the way he kisses you, there’s a hunger that can’t be ignored. Every touch, every brush of his body against yours, pulls you closer to something neither of you can deny.

Completely consumed by the tension, you draw him in, matching his every move with a heat that burns from within. Desire has taken over, and words are no longer needed.

Oscar, breathless, pauses to look at you, and you see the inner conflict in his eyes. The way he looks at you—with a mix of passion and hesitation—only makes everything more intense.

"Tell me this is okay…" he whispers, his lips just barely grazing yours, yet the heat between you is almost unbearable.

"Alright, I need you," you say, your voice trembling but firm. Your eyes meet his, and in them, there is a confirmation that needs no words. There are no doubts, only certainty. In that moment, everything is okay.

With a moan vibrating in his chest, Oscar throws himself at you, kissing you with an intensity that consumes him completely. His lips are demanding yet generous, as if he wants to devour you, to absorb every part of your being. The heat between you is unbearable, and the kisses grow more passionate, deeper, until it feels like there isn’t enough air for the both of you. The desire is immense, and in this moment, nothing matters more than being closer to Oscar, than feeling his body pressed against yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Oscar lifts you in his arms and pins you against the wall, holding you with strength and determination. Your body responds to his, and you cling to his neck, your thighs wrapping around his waist. The position is intimate and daring, and you can feel every pulse of his heart beating against yours. The world around you disappears; only the two of you remain, suspended in a moment of pure connection.

The kiss continues, more demanding, more urgent. Oscar, not relenting the pressure, bites your lower lip gently, and the pain mixed with pleasure causes a moan to escape your throat. Your body arches, craving more of him, and you can feel his erection growing between you.

"I want to feel you," you whisper against his lips, and your words are the spark that ignites a fire that had already been burning inside Oscar. With a growl he hardly recognizes as his own, he begins descending with his mouth over your body, biting and licking every inch of exposed skin. Every touch of his is a flame feeding the fire consuming him, and soon he's completely overtaken by the desire to take you, to make you his in this moment.

With quick, precise movements, Oscar strips you of your clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. Your skin is exposed, and the look he gives you is a mix of intense desire and admiration that makes you feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time. There’s no room for shyness now, only for pure, raw desire.

His hands glide over your body, tracing every curve, every plane, as if he’s memorizing your shape. The heat of his touch is intense, and your skin prickles with every caress. Oscar takes his time, exploring every inch of you, as if he wants to know it all. It’s a mixture of reverence and lust that leaves you breathless.

"You’re incredible," he whispers in a low voice, and his words send a wave of heat coursing through you. Oscar leans in, his lips brushing your neck while his hands continue their path of discovery. The pleasure blends with anticipation, and you can feel your heartbeat in every inch of your skin.

With unexpected gentleness, Oscar lays you down on the floor, making sure every movement is soft, almost reverent. The contrast between his strength and the delicacy with which he treats you is overwhelming, and you can’t help but tremble slightly under his intense gaze. There’s something in his eyes that goes beyond physical desire; there’s a connection you can’t explain, but feel deep within your soul.

His lips begin a downward journey across your body, kissing, licking, gently biting every part of your skin. The pleasure is intense, and you feel yourself drowning in a sea of sensations. Every touch from Oscar is a new flame igniting inside you, and soon you’re gasping, breath hitching from the pleasure that floods you.

When his lips reach the junction of your thighs, there’s a moment of pause, as if both of you are on the edge of a cliff, ready to leap. Oscar looks up into your eyes, and in his gaze, there’s a silent question, a search for permission. You don’t need to say anything; your answer lies in the way your fingers tug softly on his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

The first contact of his tongue on your clit is like an explosion of pleasure. A cry of ecstasy escapes your lips, and you arch into him, craving more. Oscar doesn’t stop; his tongue moves with skill and precision, exploring every inch, every fold, as if he wants to know you completely.

The pleasure builds with every movement, with every stroke of his tongue. His fingers join in, one, then two, sliding inside you with a rhythm that matches his mouth perfectly. The combination is too much, and soon you find yourself on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Oscar!" you moan, and his name leaves your lips like a prayer, a plea for more. And he gives you more, increasing the pace, deepening every movement, taking you higher, beyond what you thought possible.

The orgasm hits you hard, and you let go, screaming his name as the pleasure consumes you completely. Your body tightens, then relaxes in waves that seem endless. Oscar stays there, prolonging the pleasure, taking you to new heights with every touch.

When the pleasure finally begins to subside, you realize you’re trembling, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of what you just experienced. Oscar moves up, kissing your body on his way to your lips. When his mouth meets yours, you can taste yourself on him, and that only fuels the desire still burning inside you.

"I need to be inside you," he murmurs against your lips, and his words are filled with a need that goes beyond the physical. It’s as if he needs a deeper connection, a union that transcends the mere act of sex.

There is no resistance in you; only acceptance and an equally deep longing. You nod, and your hands slide along his back, pulling him closer. Oscar positions himself between your legs, and you can feel his erection pressing against you, long, hard, and hot.

Slowly, he begins to enter you, inch by inch, as if each movement is a new discovery. The sensation is overwhelming, and you gasp as he fills you completely. The pleasure is intense from the first moment, and you can see in Oscar’s eyes that he’s also struggling to hold back.

"You’re so deep inside me..." you whisper, and your words seem to push him even further. With a moan, he starts moving, establishing a rhythm that is both gentle and passionate. Each thrust is deep, and you can feel him reaching places you’ve never felt before.

The pleasure grows, and soon you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling. Oscar leans down to kiss you, still moving inside you. The combination of the passionate kiss and the steady rhythm of his hips is too much, and you feel the orgasm approaching again.

"I can’t hold on," Oscar groans, and you can hear the tension in his voice, the fight to stay in control. But you don’t want control; you want release, you want to let the pleasure consume you both.

"Yes," you murmur against his lips, and those words seem to be what he needs to let go of the last shred of control. He increases the pace, thrusting harder, deeper, and every stroke brings you closer to the edge.

The orgasm hits like a tidal wave, sweeping you away completely. You scream his name as your body tightens around him, and that’s what pushes him over the edge as well. One final, deep thrust, and Oscar spills inside you with a groan that’s almost a roar of release.

The two of you lie there, panting, your bodies pressed together and skin damp with effort. The silence that follows is full of meaning, filled with a connection that goes beyond words. Oscar drops beside you but doesn’t pull away; his arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close.

The feeling of belonging is overwhelming, but there’s no fear in it—only a deep, abiding peace.

"That was..." you begin, but the words catch in your throat. There aren’t enough words to describe what you just experienced.

"Yeah," Oscar replies, and his voice is thick with emotion. He doesn’t need to say more; both of you know what has changed between you in this moment. What began as an impulse has evolved into something deeper, something neither of you expected—but now seems inevitable.

[louistomlinsonslover]

Checked in - George Clarkey

words : 1.0 k +

warnings : Food-related content (mention of a gross food challenge), Fluff overload (excessive cuteness that may cause butterflies!)

The Sidemen studio was buzzing with energy—cameras rolling, crew members adjusting lighting, and the boys already causing chaos before the video had even properly started. You stood off to the side, tucked just behind the cameras, watching as your boyfriend, George Clarke, settled into his seat amongst the Sidemen.

He looked completely at ease, chatting and laughing with the boys as the crew made last-minute adjustments. Even though this wasn’t his usual kind of content, he fit in effortlessly, his natural charm making it seem like he’d been doing this for years.

You, on the other hand, weren’t in the video. You had come along purely to support him, happy to be behind the scenes, just watching. But what you weren’t expecting was the way George kept checking in on you—over and over again, in the most subtle yet adorable ways.

“All right, today we have a very special guest,” Ethan announced, throwing an arm around George’s shoulders. “Mr. Architecture himself, George Clarke!”

The boys erupted into cheers and mock applause.

George chuckled, shaking his head. “I swear, you lot hype me up too much.”

JJ smirked. “Mate, it’s only ‘cause we know you’re gonna get roasted in this video.”

That was met with laughter, but as the challenge got underway—some ridiculous mix of trivia and forfeits—you noticed something.

Every few minutes, George would steal a glance in your direction.

At first, it was subtle. His eyes would flick over to you when the others were distracted, his brows lifting slightly as if silently asking, You okay?

You bit back a smile, giving him a tiny nod.

Then, the gestures became more obvious. A quick thumbs-up under the table, a casual stretch where he subtly formed a tiny heart with his fingers before dropping them back down.

You couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading through your chest.

JJ, who happened to catch one of these moments, narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oi, what’s this guy doing?”

Vik followed JJ’s gaze and smirked. “I think George is sending secret messages.”

Harry snickered. “Bruv, you’re in a Sidemen video, not passing notes in class.”

George, completely unbothered, just grinned. “Gotta make sure my girl’s alright, haven’t I?”

The teasing was instant.

“WHIPPED!” Harry declared dramatically.

Josh shook his head, laughing. “We’ve lost him.”

Ethan nudged George. “Mate, she’s literally right there. She’s fine.”

George just shrugged, throwing you another glance, his lips curving into the softest smile. “Still gotta check in.”

Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t about to complain.

As the game continued, George found new ways to silently reassure you—his fingers drumming lightly against the table in a rhythm only you would recognize, a small, barely noticeable wink when the others were too busy laughing, a soft smile that made your stomach flip every time your eyes met.

At one point, when the boys erupted into chaos over a particularly questionable answer, George leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the chair beside him. With a casualness that didn’t match the giddy feeling blooming inside you, he raised two fingers in a peace sign—his own silent way of asking if you were okay.

You did it back, mirroring the gesture, and he smiled so softly it made your heart race.

But then, he took it a step further.

While the others were arguing about the score, George turned slightly, facing you more. With exaggerated slowness—so that only you would notice—he lifted his hands to form a tiny heart, then pointed at you before quickly dropping them back down.

Your heart nearly burst.

You covered your mouth to keep from laughing, shaking your head at him, but the way he was looking at you—so full of warmth, so full of love—made it impossible not to smile.

Tobi, who had been watching quietly, chuckled. “That’s actually cute, man.”

JJ groaned. “Oh my days. Someone get a bucket.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Honestly, just propose at this point, George.”

George just smirked, clearly enjoying the teasing. But before turning his attention back to the game, he shot you one last look—the kind that made your stomach flutter, your breath hitch, and your heart race all at once.

As the game progressed, George continued his little check-ins. Whenever the boys were deep in conversation or focused on the challenge, he’d take a second just to look at you, his lips quirking up in a soft, secret smile meant only for you. And every time, you felt that same giddy rush, your stomach twisting in the best possible way.

Then came the forfeits.

George, unfortunately, ended up on the losing team, meaning he had to suffer through a ridiculous punishment—having to eat an absolutely revolting concoction that JJ had gleefully mixed together.

You winced as you watched the boys cackle over the disgusting-looking sludge in front of George. He picked up the spoon with a sigh, but before taking a bite, his eyes found yours.

He pointed at the bowl, then dramatically wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

You laughed, shaking your head. In response, you held up both thumbs, encouraging him, even though you were internally gagging at the thought of him actually eating that monstrosity.

George grinned, rolling his eyes playfully before finally taking a bite. His face immediately scrunched up in horror, and the studio erupted into chaos.

JJ was on the floor laughing. “Oh my God! His face!”

Harry was crying from laughter, while Tobi clapped his hands together in delight. “Nah, that’s bad. That’s actually bad.”

Through it all, George still found a way to check on you. Even as he dramatically coughed and shook his head at the taste, he sent you a wink between grimaces.

You burst into laughter, pressing a hand over your mouth.

As the video finally wrapped up, George wasted no time in making his way over to you, ignoring the teasing from the boys as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, his voice warm as he pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

You smiled, leaning into him. “Loved every second.”

He hummed, squeezing your side. “Told you I’d check in.”

Your stomach flipped, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you in the room.

JJ’s voice broke the moment. “You two are disgusting.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, but George just grinned, pulling you closer.

If this was what being ‘whipped’ looked like, he had absolutely no problem with it.

[atzupdates]

[231129] StudioK Twitter Update | 🌏 This is breaking news. October 24, 2023 in New York, USA. There is news that the group Ateez has celebrated their 5th anniversary of debut. ATEEZ member Seonghwa recently requested a Dolbak tour. Upon hearing the news of a new opening, we went on a friendship trip with the members as Seonghwa had requested it. Detailed news was covered closely by Dolbak News.

▶ youtu.be/hbOvuS24_c8

Dolbak 1N2D EP.25 ATEEZ in New York First released on December 3rd (Sunday) at 8pm!

[97linelover]

don´t let me slip away, please. - Jeon Wonwoo

18+ / mdi

summary: Dating an Idol was not always easy, you once again felt it with their newest comeback.

What if your Boyfriend pushes you away and you could only watch?

content: Idol Wonwoo x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, smut

wc: 2.2 k

a/n: I always think about, how tiring comebacks must be for idols so I wrote down this AU.

The most painful thing is seeing your partner suffer but not being able to help.

That's exactly how you feel right now with Wonwoo.

Ever since the announcement of the new seventeen the best album, you have watched him slip out of your grip. You felt his distance, and you felt him closing up on you.

Jeon Wonwoo became so distant that you felt like the love he held for you was gone.

When the album release came, he was long gone before you woke up. You had ordered a small cake in the album theme. But in the morning, Wonwoo was long gone; his bag was gone, and you looked at your phone.

„Nonu: filming for MNET right now; I don't know when I'll be home. I didn't want to wake you. I love you."

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you locked your phone again, trying to sleep some more.

It was the third show they had this week, and you know how exhausted he must be. While comebacks were amazing for the fans, they were exhausting for the artists.

You got ready and decided to watch the recording of today's set. For this comeback, you took some days off to support Wonwoo, but he did not appreciate it in the slightest.

Haru guided you inside the studio, where you heard the screams of the fans and the fan chant. A smile appeared on your lips, and you watched the boys do what they're best at.

But at the end, you could clearly see their exhaustion, their painted smiles, and their dull eyes. You saw how Wonwoo supported himself on Mingyu, and he tried his best to smile. The fans cheered and cheered, and you felt yourself getting sadder with each passing moment.

The comeback times were unbelievable hard, and if you did not date an idol, you would never know. 

When they got off the stage, you quickly went towards your boyfriend. „Nonu, you were amazing," you said with a bright smile, and he looked at you. „Y/N, what are you doing here?" he asked, surprised, and you shrugged. „I took some time off, and I wanted to surprise you." You threw your arms around his neck.

„You were so good," you kissed him softly. He felt distant, and his kisses did not feel like home tonight. 

„I will get changed," he announced softly, pushing you away, and you felt your heart fall into your stomach. „Okay, baby, I'll wait here," you smiled slightly, and he nodded, walking inside the changing room.

When he came back, dressed in his casual street wear, you watched him carefully. „Wanna head home?" You asked him curiously, and he nodded. „I could use a nap," he yawned.

Inside the black van, he typed on his phone, „When did you leave?" Your voice brought him back to reality, „4:30 in the morning," and he did not talk to you again for the ride.

And when you entered the house, he went for a shower while you began to cook. Wonwoo was always hungry when he finished a busy schedule.

You heard the bathroom door closing, and Wonwoo walked inside the kitchen dressed in some boxers and a shirt. „I made your favorite." You smiled proudly at him, and he yawned again. „I'm not that hungry, maybe after a nap, but thanks," he said as he walked inside the bedroom without looking back. 

You felt the tears in your eyes, and you grabbed a plate when Mingyu walked in. "Mhm, smells good," he said, looking over your shoulder. "Do you want some?" You filled the plate, and he sat down with you. "Did Wonu already eat?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "No, he's taking a nap." You shrugged. "Is everything alright between you two?" Mingyu asked with concern in his voice, "I guess." You just smiled and got up.

"When Wonwoo is waking up, tell him I'm staying at mine tonight." You put on your shoes. 

"Y/N," Mingyu's voice made you look back. "There will be better times, believe me." You felt a single tear rolling down your cheek. "I really don't know Mingyu," you whispered, and you began your journey home.  Your flat was about 45 minutes away from Minwon's home, and normally Wonwoo would freak out to let you take the bus, especially since your area was not the best. 

You barely slept there anymore since you dated Wonwoo; he had built a small vanity for you with all your cosmetics inside; his wardrobe had extra space for your stuff; and in the shower, your Strawberry Showergel was very prominent. 

Mingyu became your best friend, and you three always went out, watched movies, talked about their day, and asked about yours.

When you arrived at home, you typed in a quick "I'm home xx" to Wonwoo, only to be ignored the entire night.  At first, you thought that maybe he slept through. But you did know that he was awake, and you did know that he went live to play some games. 

So overall, you felt like he was falling out of love with you, and after all, you could never force someone to love you. 

When you wrote your article for your work project the next day, you saw the notification of their scheduled get-together.  They organized a meet-up with 50 Lucky fans, and they would perform for them. They would eat with them, and after that, they would get the biggest cake ever. 

You were in charge of the cake because Jiyoung, the manager of the boys, forgot about it, but luckily you found a bakery. 

So here you are now, carrying a huge cake inside the venue. With the help of some staff members, you placed it on a stroller. 

"Where's Wonu?" you asked Jiyoung while wiping your hands clean. 

"They're in the dressing room; this is the last outfit change, and then they're done, and you two can go home," he chuckled slightly when he noticed how happy you were. You hurried through the floor, and you could already hear them talking, "Did you hear from Y/N last night?" Mingyu asked his best friend while he got his make-up retouched. 

"She just texted me that she got home safe; I don't even know why she left in the first place," he shrugged. "But you don't like her going home late; she told me you were pretty distant." You could hear how confused Mingyu was. 

"I was kind of relieved to be alone for a while; she's kind of annoying at the moment." You felt your breath hitch. "She always is around me; as if I'm not stressed enough, she tags along to everything." Wonwoo's voice sounded annoyed, and you tried your best not to utter a word. 

"Bro, she is your girlfriend; you barely see her with our schedule, and you really complain when she takes time for you? I would be happy to see Lia every day," Jihoon said, confused and kind of disappointed. 

"I'm fucking tired, okay? I'm fucking annoyed with her; all she does is chase my tail like a lost puppy," he spat and got up to leave the room. Jiyoung walked past you. "Y/N, why are you out here?" he asked, confused while opening the door wider.

Wonwoo's gaze found yours, and he saw the pain in your eyes. "Y/N," he whispered, but you quickly looked away. "I forgot that I have some papers due; I will, uh, I will go home now," you blabbered and bumped against a staff member. 

You realized your wet eyes were the reason why you could not walk straight; you heard footsteps behind you, and then you got pulled against a buff chest. "Hey, you should not drive like this," a Mingyus voice rang through your eyes, and you sobbed. "I don't care; I need to get out of here." You pushed him away. "You heard him, huh?" he sighed. "I sure did, and now I finally know where I stand in his life." You let out a sarcastic laugh. "I won't annoy him anymore." You looked over his shoulder where Wonwoo was looking at you. 

"Baby," he began, but you shook your head. "I won't push you anymore. Don't worry, I will not push you anymore." You shook your head. "I will not be there anymore." With that, you ran out of the building. 

One thing about Seoul is that if you want to get lost, you can. 

You ran along the streets until you did not know where you were. You found a bench where you waited for a Kakao car. The tear stains on your cheek made the driver look concerned, but he drove you to your building regardless, and a small question about whether you were okay in between made you smile slightly. 

You told him that you were okay, but you sure did not feel like it was okay. 

So this is how you found yourself on the couch inside your flat, wearing your fluffy bathrobe after you took a warm bath.  You were craving chicken and beer, so when the doorbell rang, you jumped up. "Coming!" you yelled, grabbing your wallet. 

When you opened the door, Wonwoo was standing in front of you. "Well, not my chicken," you muttered, and he looked at you with his brown eyes; they were bloodshot. "What do you want?" you whispered, and you felt the tears again. "I wanted to see you," he whispered. 

"Oh, you do? I thought you wanted some free time; I thought I'm annoying." You crossed your arms, and Wonwoo closed his eyes. "Can I come inside?" He whispered, "I don't think we should do this; I think we should break off." You whispered, and Wonwoo's eyes widened. "What? No!"

You felt your heartbreak. "I love you, Wonwoo; I love you so much it hurts," you sobbed. "But you called me annoying; you described me as a burden even though I only want to give you love." You walked inside with him behind you. 

"I don't want to be the reason you're unhappy, so I think it's best if I won't be a part of your life; you're stressed all the time, and normally I should be the one to take the stress off your shoulders." You looked at him, and you saw how tears were now streaming down his cheeks. "No, baby, I'm the one to blame; you do nothing but make me happy," he said, taking your hand. 

"This comeback is the biggest we've had so far; it's indescribable; I felt overwhelmed; I felt exhausted and tired; and you were the person that was the closest to me," he choked out a sob. "God, without you, I could not do that; you are my person, baby; you bring me down; I need you." 

"I let out my shit mood at you, and I am so sorry; you're not annoying, fuck no. Youre the best thing I have; I don't want to separate; I want us forever, baby," he cupped your face. "Please don't leave me," he whispered.

You felt like your heart had broken into a thousand pieces. 

"I won't," you whispered, "but please talk to me; please tell me if something's wrong; we are in this together.". 

"God, I love you so much," he whispered, and he kissed you softly. You felt his salty tears on his lips; you felt the need inside this kiss. 

"I love you too." You pulled him closer, and he lifted you up, carrying you inside the bedroom. 

You were cuddled against his chest, and he played around with your hair. "I missed my mom's death anniversary; because we were on tour, I could not visit her grave; I felt like shit because of this," you sat up straight.

"Nonu baby, your mom would be so proud of you, and she knows where you are right now. Don't break your head over that, okay? We can visit her grave tomorrow; don't be so harsh on yourself," you kissed his cheek. 

"I still feel so bad for what I said," he whispered, and you shrugged. "It happened, Nonu; I know you're sorry." He stroked your cheek with his thumb. "Move in with me," he whispered, and your eyes widened. "What?" you gasped, and he smiled. 

"I want you with me all the time, and Mingyu loves your company." He pulled you onto his lap, and you giggled. "You're sure about that?" He nodded. "God, woman, your neighborhood is a nightmare." 

You pouted, "Not everyone can be rich." You mocked him, and he laughed, "But baby, the perks of me being rich are that I can spoil you." He turned you both around and softly placed kisses along your stomach. 

"But I don't want that," you whimpered, and you felt him smirk against your skin. "I know, but love, I will spoil you anyways."  He parted your legs "because I adore you.". 

[necessiteez]

HONGJOONG SMUT FIC RECS LIBRARY

disclaimer: I do not own any of these works and they do not represent the real kim hongjoong. all rights belong to the respective writers who made them.

everything listed will be only hongjoong x reader (fem/male/gn) pairing and it will contain suggestive/smut themes. if it includes another member, I will also indicate it. fics will be categorized into aus so it will be easy to find.

I won't be including mtls, bullet lists, and other members' fics. if you are looking for recs with different members I'm sure other atinys have posted their own lists. These are all personal favorites and I'll only be including tropes/aus that I'm comfortable with (there won't be a/b/o, master kink, hybrid aus etc. sorry).

lastly, please let the writers know if you love their works so we can enjoy more of their content. have fun reading!

1. First Floor

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬 you are here ໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

1.5 Secret Room

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

2. Second Floor

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

2.5 Banned Books

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬 ???????? ໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

3. Third Floor

⚠︎UNDER CONSTRUCTION⚠︎

✶ - favorites

╔══ first♕floor ══╗

「 ✦ Vampire!Hongjoong ✦ 」

✶ Honey and Blood - @nateezfics (wc 8.6k)

In the Night feat. Seonghwa - @ja3hwa (wc 2.53k)

✶ People, Running poly, multi-chapter- themoonlightfae on ao3 (wc 50k+)

Sweet Trouble feat. Wooyoung - Atiny_DazzlingLight on ao3 (wc 6.2k)

vampire! hongjoong - @xuchiya

✶ Delicious feat. Seonghwa - @jagibangbangchan (wc 5k)

「 ✦ Friends with Benefits!Hongjoong ✦ 」

✶ I Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way - @severetimetravelnerd (wc 9k+)

Leave Me With Nothing - @min-gis (wc 5.7k)

✶ Mine feat. Seonghwa - @smileysuh (wc 3.4k)

Naked Truth - @essenteez (wc 6.1k)

Late Night Rendezvous PART 1 - @sanjoongie (wc 1k)

Nightclub Affair PART 2 - sanjoongie (wc 3k)

Voicemail - TgemstoneT on ao3 (wc 3.4k)

「 ✦ Sugar Daddy!Hongjoong ✦ 」

✶ Wetting Your Lips - @k-hotchoisan

Avaritia - @hwaightme (wc 8.3k)

Baby Said feat. Seonghwa - @destiny-fics

Taken - @hwanchaesong (wc 8k)

Never Too Much - @iwannasuckyourmonstercock

「 ✦ Incubus/Demon!Hongjoong ✦ 」

✶ Say My Name - twinmoles on ao3 (wc 7.6k)

Incubus! Hongjoong - sanjoongie (wc 2k)

The King chapter from a series- @destiny-fics

The Library of Illusions - Restricted Section finale of a series - @kwanisms (wc 9.6k)

✶ Jealousy, Jealousy - destiny-fics

The King's Games series - @hanatiny

Their Pretty Pet feat. San, Seonghwa- @written-in-flowers (wc 7k)

The King of Rot chapter from a series - pearlypearlypearl on ao3 (wc 8k)

Demon Line feat. San, Seonghwa - HalaHollow on ao3 (wc 4.7k)

Day 1 - @ocean-ai (wc 2.8k)

✶ Wings and Thorns - @kitten4sannie (wc 3.4k)

Hotel California part 7 poly,multi-chapter - mint-yooxgi (wc 9.9k)

✶ Paradise Gardens part 15 (Hotel California 2nd volume) - mint-yooxgi (wc 23k)

Inferno - pyeonghongrie (wc 1.6k)

Fallen Angel feat. Yeosang- darkmulti

Devil Eyes part 1 - @hwashotcheeto (wc 2.3k)

Devil Eyes part 2 - hwashotcheeto (wc 1.8k)

All Hands on Me - k-hotchoisan

「 ✦ Hongjoong at the Studio ✦ 」

includes: Producer! Hongjoong, Idol! Hongjoong

✶ Sharing is Caring feat. Mingi - @byuntrash101 (wc 5.2k)

0:126am At His Studio - @sanflowerseeds

✶ Audio Angel - @marigold-doms

Make You Feel Better - @hongthoven (wc 3.2k)

Studio Sessions feat. Jongho - Atiny_DazzlingLight on ao3 (wc 5k)

To Make an Album - @bambikisss

✶ Make You Cry for Me (When I Put My Lips on You) - wonuha on ao3 (wc 5.7k)

Studio Time feat. Mingi - @yuta-senpai (wc 1.9k)

✶ Public/Recorded Sex feat. Wooyoung - @hongism (wc 4k)

Fragile - @ilwonuu

Attention feat. Seonghwa - @beginningofwonderland

22:48 - @beatteez

Two's Better Than One feat. Mingi - @ateezscupid

After Hours - nateezfics (wc 500)

「 ✦ Soft!Hongjoong ✦ 」

includes: Soft Dom! Hongjoong, Service Top! Hongjoong, Needy! Hongjoong, lots and lots and lots of praise my favorite

Morning Haze - nateezfics (wc 1.4k)

✶ All Mine - hongthoven (wc 2.6k)

✶ Oxygen - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 820)

✶ Addicted - @justaaveragereader (wc 1.8k)

HJ & Shibari - @mia-tiny (wc 729)

Precious - @latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 3k)

✶ Pretty Pink - nateezfics (wc 2k)

My Angel - @mirror-juliet

✶ You're My Desire - hongism (wc 1.3k)

Day 17: Body Worship - @ateezreactionsandscenarios (wc 1k)

Scream It Louder - atinywooyoung on a03

Keep Me Close - crimsonbubble

Early Mornings - ddeongsami on ao3 (wc 3.3k)

✶ Good Morning Captain - iguessireadfanficnow on a03 (wc 2k)

✶ Sleep Better - @tinyidle (wc 2k)

Need You - @luvryeo (wc 500)

✶ Untitled drabble- @atinycafe (wc 900)

Stay - atinycafe (wc 1.2k)

Be Hongjoong's cockslut - k-hotchoisan

Take It Easy gn!reader- ocean-ai (wc 700)

✶ Through It All feat. Mingi - @felixsramen

Glad You Came - @frenchkisstheabyss (wc 1.8k)

A Hazy Evening gn!, high sex- cheollipop (wc 1.8k)

Untitled drabble - byuntrash101

* First Time

Philoselene - @ncteez

Untitled drabble - k-hotchoisan

✶ First Time - whatudowhennooneseesyou (wc 2k)

「 ✦ Non-Human!Hongjoong ✦ 」

✶ Here Were Fairies fairy!hongoong - pearlypearlypearl on ao3 (wc 10k)

Ugly Dragon dragon!hongjoong- @thelargefrye (wc 2k)

✶ Shells mermaid!hongjoong - @last-words-ofashootingstar (multi-chapter)

Something Sinister feat. Seonghwa- @hansols-yoda-boxers (wc 5.2k)

Day 3: Mirror Sex Grim Reaper!Hongjoong - sanjoongie (wc 1.8k)

Project Omen dragon!Hongjoong feat. Wooyoung- @atzfilm (wc 40k)

Drowning in Pleasure siren!Hongjoong- @twisted-tales-of-all (wc 2.3k)

🆕✨ Gaze of Stone gorgon!Hongjoong - @ilovejeongintoo (wc 5k)

「 ✦ Bad Boy!Hongjoong ✦ 」

includes Goth, Emo, Punk dark aesthetic Hongjoong

✶ Ohmami - bambikisss

Dark Kiss part 1 - latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 5k)

Dark Kiss part 2 - latte-fairytaekwoon (wc 8.5k)

Ugh, As If - @ennysbookstore (wc 11k)

Ugh, As If bonus 1 - ennysbookstore (wc 5.4k)

Ugh, As If bonus 2 - ennysbookstore (wc 5.5k)

˖ ࣪⭑last updated 07/05/24 ˖ ࣪⭑

[abyceleste]

Our cozy home ── ⟢

pairing: jayvik x fem!artist!reader

content: fluffy, poly relationship, established relationship, no mention of Y/N, smut (nsfw), MDNI!, threesome, oral male receiving, praise kink, double penetration

word account: 2.1~k

a/n: so i finally found the courage to write sth here and here it goes. please don't make it flop, i really tried my best and had this idea in my mind since S2 ended and thinking about this scenario was my only way to cope with losing my wives. english is not my first language so excuse me for any wrong spelling. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Routines were the only thing that could keep the most promising minds of Piltover at bay. When Jayce's arms ached from hammering metal or when the chalk from Viktor's endless notes made him cough terribly, arriving at the apartment they shared with their partner was the only thing that made them look forward to at the end of their day. Piltover, luckily, was the city of progress, although they always liked the idea of having something private, that only they could enjoy. They knew that they would not suffer from any discrimination, who would judge the minds that made the rich houses richer?

Almost dragging their limbs to the door of their home, they pushed the door open as they spoke in monosyllables about the routine they would do the next day to improve hextech, keep the council at bay, and make the world a better place.

The sound of pencil against paper, the smell of blue tea, and the oatmeal cookies you made zealously enough to share your recipe with Councilor Medarda made them both breathe a sigh of relief as Jayce hung his coat on the coat rack and Viktor undid his tie with a groan.

“Hey.” You greeted quietly as you closed your sketchbook and shook your hands despite the nonexistent paint or charcoal on your fingers, a flaw from spending so much time in your art studio.

As soon as you had stood up, Jayce’s arms were around your waist and his face was hidden in the crook of your neck, making your skin crawl every time he breathed in your natural fragrance. It had always seemed cute to you and Viktor how a bear of a man could be so needy and clingy to those who gave him a few words of praise and affection.

"It was a terrible day." Jayce murmured against your skin, closing the space between your chests even further and placing small kisses on your skin.

"Oh babe, why? What happened?" You asked stroking his hair with one hand and putting the other against his shoulder, comforting him as if your life depended on it. Your eyes were guided to the thinner man who walked, limping, towards you with his crutch and placed a kiss on your forehead before heading into the kitchen with little intention of comforting his boyfriend. "Vik?"

"Polly wants a cookie." He said in a monotone voice with that heavy accent that made you and Jayce feel just a little excited when you heard him speak, even if the first thing he said in the mornings was that the milk was expired. As soon as his slender fingers found the plate of cookies and held it close to his chest, almost near his collarbones, he deigned to have a more focused look. "He's exaggerating, wants attention."

"Liar." Jayce scolded, tilting his head and looking at his lover with half his face hidden in your shoulder.

"He was summoned to a meeting with the Council to discuss Hextech's progress and he had to listen to what everyone wanted to say for-"

"For almost three hours!"

Jayce's voice was clearly listless and tired and Viktor could only nod as he took a bite of another of the cookies he had in his hands. You just shook your head and let Jayce hunch over until his head was between your breasts, giving small kisses on your skin and growling almost like a wet and angry puppy. You couldn't help but laugh at the image but you just took Jayce's cheeks in your hands and caressed the small stubble that was beginning to appear from the little time you had spent at home the last few days.

"How about you two go and take a bath? Afterwards we can get some sleep, okay?"

Jayce just nodded, leaning down to capture your lips with his and retreating after a few minutes to the bathroom in the room. When you were going to approach Viktor, he just handed you his plate with a satisfied face. He had a bad habit of getting upset when he didn't eat, although strangely enough he always forgot to eat.

"How...?" You asked, seeing that in less than five minutes he had finished the entire plate of cookies you had left to cool.

"Meh. Something I learned a long time ago." Viktor said, shrugging his shoulders and giving you a smile as he walked to the bathroom to join Jayce in the shower. Of course, people in Zaun had to eat fast or eat nothing. It was the law of the strongest. No matter how much Viktor had risen in social class, it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks.

The home was dimly lit with the yellow lights that Jayce had installed, to save on heating or at least that's what they told themselves. In reality, the lights went further than just tricking your brain into thinking the place was warm. The tone made your lips shine even more, Jayce's skin looked like the dull fire of a campfire and Viktor's eyes resembled the gold of the walls. Plus it was so comfortable to see that tone, the three of you hugged under the covers and hiding from the cold that was outside your apartment.

None of you had ever had a real home, really. You had fought so much that you had forgotten what a single moment of peace was, where you shouldn't be under the public eye of the Council, writing down the Dean's endless to-do notebooks and hating the deadline dates for the family pictures of each important house.

Each one had their assigned task and their favorite at the same time. Jayce loved cooking, waking you and Viktor up to the smell of hot pancakes and coffee, or quickly thinking of what he could make for dinner when everyone finished their chores and gathered back at home. Viktor, oh right, the laundry. There wasn’t a stain that wasn’t removed by his hands and clothes that weren’t neatly folded in the drawers assigned to each one.

After tidying up the kitchen a bit so Jayce wouldn’t end up freaking out the next morning, you went up to the shared room with the long bed with white sheets that the three of you used, throwing your sandals somewhere in the room as you climbed into bed to wait for your partners, who didn’t take long to emerge from the bathroom.

Viktor came out in a large t-shirt and only his underwear underneath, sitting on the bed and adjusting the knee immobilizer that kept him standing and taking his place on the bed. Jayce walked out with just a towel around his waist and rummaged through the drawers for his boxers, which he slid up until they covered his manhood.

Shortly after taking your place, the sound of springs under the bed, a strong heat on your side and the weight of strong arms and legs against your body disoriented you a little until you distinguished the figure of Jayce giving you kisses on the cheeks and shoulder. At the side of you, Viktor seemed completely unaware of the situation, with the book he had been putting off for a long time because he 'didn't have time to read' and a frown as he refused to wear reading glasses despite the tired eyesight he normally had.

That fluttering heat that settles in your stomach appeared in yours, when Jayce's kisses descended towards your shoulders and chest leaving open, clumsy and wet kisses against your sensitive skin for the human oven that was your partner.

"Let me..." You said in a sigh, taking Jayce's shoulders and guiding him until he lay down on the bed, his skin contrasting against the sheets and that made it even more exciting.

Your hands traced his body with desire but with that ever-present admiration, almost like touching a newly made statue that could crumble at any moment if you showed it a little disdain. The marks of fire, hammer blows and effort on his skin were reminiscent of cracks in the ground, strong and present but so intimidating that you can only have respect and even desire for them.

The artist's delirium, seeing everything poetic, even sex.

The bulge in Jayce's boxers became more and more evident as his partner's fingers went down to the hem of his underwear to remove it, it hadn't even helped to put them on in the first place. His breathing shortened a little and he searched for oxygen on Viktor's lips, whom he took by the cheeks while searching for his mouth with his eyes closed until he found it. The man didn't know how to react for a moment, deep in reading and still looking at the pages of his book, but the dark-haired boy's kisses made him postpone his reading, perhaps for later.

Your hand also made its way to Viktor's new one as you noticed his now active participation in the act, running your fingertips with almost torturous tenderness over the nascent bulge in his crotch.

As soon as you realized, they were both naked, as were you, but your mouth was too busy to utter any complaints.

"Fuck... Just like that-" A moan cut short Jayce's compliment, arching his back and pushing his member further into your mouth as if that were still possible. His moans tasted delicious and even yours did to him, as the vibrations you generated on his sensitive tip made him see stars and squeeze the hand of his lab partner, who was perhaps in the same position.

Viktor's shaft throbbed with a need that your hand alone couldn't satisfy, as the image was enough to make him jealous of your mouth and, in turn, of Jayce's manhood. His hand lowered to your cheek, although only the back of his hand touched your chin, as a slight plea to receive the same attention from you.

Obediently, you continued to please Jayce with your hand, while your mouth opened to receive Viktor and wet his tip with the combination of your saliva and his precum. A shiver ran through his body as he nodded and looked at you with barely open eyes.

"So good." He said as he rested his cheek on Jayce's shoulder, who was quick to rest his temple on Viktor's head.

"She's so good, isn't she? Always so—ah—eager to help us."

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the compliments, just hearing them had made you so wet that it even hurt not to feel even a little touch, but no. Your boys were feeling good, and that was all that mattered tonight.

Just when you thought about continuing until your brain turned to pudding, Viktor's slender hands pulled you away from his center. You automatically wanted to go back to your work but you noticed Jayce's hands on your waist, from behind, guiding you to lie a little on top of Viktor and looking at his face.

His moles, oh his moles. Those were definitely stars in the dark night, contrasting with his pale skin but since you loved to kiss him little by little until you physically remembered where they were, you could remember each one even if you were blind.

The wet tips of your lovers brushed against your two entrances almost at the same time and you only felt a shiver run down your spine as you nodded. Words were not necessary when two beautiful men wanted to give you pleasure, and boy did they.

The initial sting was never missing but then it turned into tickling which turned into pleasure. When one entered, the other left and the room had become its own sanctuary of pleasure, carnal sounds and the incessant rubbing of skin. The humidity and heat of Viktor's body holding yours, and Jayce's chest against his back could almost make you faint but the pleasure kept you awake and moaning incoherently while both of them kept kissing any part of your skin they could reach and why not? Biting a little on the skin that gave them so much delight.

One finished, then another and finally the last one. Leaving them tired, satisfied, belonging to the other. The stress of the day to day as scientists dissolved in the sheets and was forgotten when they saw their seed run down your body, then cleaned it with a handkerchief to avoid accidents in bed, as on other occasions. Hugged, reciting words of adoration and light kisses, sleep took over each one and they gave in to the temptation to dream.

Routine could perhaps consume Jayce and Viktor, but a little touch, kiss or word made them forget it. It made them feel, made them live.

[holybibly]

𝔗𝔬𝔬 𝔣𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔩 | Wooyoung x reader

Pairing: Step Brother's Best Friend Wooyoung x Reader Summary: When the summer heat hits the city, all you want to do is lie around uder the air conditioning and do nothing. But your step-brother's best friend is showing you a whole new way to beat the hell out of the heat. Too hot to cuddle, but great to fuck. Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, f2l, fragment of life Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 5.2k Warnings: dom!Wooyoung, sub!reader, pussy drunk, face riding, unprotected sex, pet names, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, squirting and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet

A|N: Something that was supposed to be a normal unholy hour, but turned into a real little masterpiece. Written as part of the @cultofdionysusnet summer24 event. My hint: "too hot to cuddle" But, this is also a gift for you, my beautiful bunnies. There are officially more than 3k of you. I hope you all can take the heat, bunnies, for no summer swelter can compare to the hotness of Wooyoung.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @oddracha

A stifling heat wave has been terrorising your city for weeks now. The heavy, white-hot air was burning on skin and settling into lungs, making it hard to breathe normally. Life in the whole city practically stopped, as everyone preferred to stay in the coolness of their own homes and don't go outside unless you have to. Unfortunately, the air conditioner in your apartment broke down just before the heat wave hit the city, leaving you to face the scorching summer heat all alone. If it hadn't been for San, who had kindly offered to let you stay at his and Wooyoung's apartment until the air conditioner was fixed, it's hard to imagine how you would have survived. 

Their place just was amazing—big and bright, with a huge kitchen and a studio lounge, which was where you were now, curled up on the couch with a cold drink in one hand and your phone in the other. But most importantly, there was a big, powerful fan pointing at you and blowing cold air onto your heated, wet skin. 

The boys weren't home; San was probably at the gym with Yeosang and maybe Hongjoong, although you weren't sure if they could get the grumpy blue-haired boy to come with them, especially in the middle of the noon heat. And Wooyoung, well, you didn't really think much of him, but he definitely wasn't home. You could tell by the absence of his loud voice, ringing through the paper-thin walls. 

And maybe it was for the best, because you had found yourself staring at him too much lately, especially when the heat had forced him to wear tight black tank tops more often, revealing more of his smooth, caramel-golden skin covered in a light, shiny layer of sweat to everyone around him. It was hard for you to admit it, but perhaps, just perhaps, you had the strong desire to lick her like candy, even though you had doubts that Woo would be sweet on your tongue. 

You were sure the heat was to blame, because you just couldn't fall in love with your step brother's best friend, even though he was so damn tempting and had that subtle but noticeable vibe of hard dominance that you were so attracted to in guys. Everything about him screamed, Daddy. And if you were asked what you thought of him, you'd even say "Daddiest." Damn it, it was all those hormones of yours that were playing up because of the long absence of sex and the heat, and maybe because of Wooyoung's all too seductive, darker fox eyes. But it certainly wasn't love, or at least that is what you wanted to believe.

You stretched out your naked legs and scrolled absent-mindedly through your news feed, completely oblivious to the fact that Woo was standing in the doorway. A soft sigh escaped from his plump lips, slightly swollen from his compulsive habit of constantly biting them, and you finally pulled yourself away from your phone and looked up at him as you smiled softly. 

When he didn't say anything to you, you tilted your head to the side in confusion, because of which the strap of your tiny top slipped off your shoulder, exposing your breasts slightly as you noticed how focused and dark his gaze was. Sometimes you couldn't make out the expressions on his sculpted face, wondering if Wooyoung was angry, horny, or focused, which made it hard for you to communicate with him. But no matter what kind of emotions Wooyoung was feeling at any given moment, it was always a pretty intense one. 

Under the weight of his gaze, you fidgeted a little in your seat and belatedly adjusted the strap that had fallen off of your shoulder. In all honesty, you were pretty scantily clad, especially in view of the fact that you were sharing a flat with two hot and sexually active guys. 

And you probably should have dressed a little more decently, but the weather was really hot as hell, and you couldn't even think of wearing anything else but a tiny silk top and the same silk shorts that looked more like elongated panties and barely covered your plump, soft buttocks. You didn't think much of it, considering the boys themselves rarely wore anything but baggy pyjama pants or basketball shorts when they stayed at home, flaunting their tight, sculpted torsos and seductive muscles. 

At the moment, however, Wooyoung was having a real interior crisis about how seductive your thighs looked and how your tiny shorts tightened around your plump booty, leaving half of your buttocks completely exposed. Your top barely covered your heavy, juicy tits and showed off more of them than he could ever have imagined. Even from his seat, he could clearly see how swollen your candy pink nipples were under the thin silky fabric. Wooyoung silently turned on his heels and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water, as if that would help him clear his mind of how thick and soft your thighs looked and how the thin strip of fabric between your legs was the only thing covering your small, plump pussy.

It was no secret that he found you attractive; even more of that, Wooyoung had found you sexy, so fucking fuckable, and he'd gotten that feeling a long time ago. Woo had never seen you before, until he and San had moved to Seoul after graduation. He only knew you nominally, because San just couldn't keep his mouth shut about his little stepsister's attractiveness. Fuck it, his buddy was drooling over you even more than he was, and once you were once a family, however briefly. But now that it was all in the past, there was nothing to connect you except decency, which was running out. He wasn't blind; Woo saw the way San looked at you because he looked at you the same way.

He'd wanted you from the second you stepped over the threshold of the flat he shared with San, and that desire grew even stronger with each passing day. Especially when you fuelled his fantasies by strutting around the house in your tiny pyjamas that barely covered your ass and perfectly contoured your cunt when you bent too low or squatted. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your breasts jiggled, barely contained by the skimpy top, as you cleaned the flat. Or the way your hard, swollen nipples showed through the thin, almost transparent fabric. Now, after a couple of weeks had passed, he could definitely tell that your nipples were a soft, deep pink colour, and your pussycat was always perfectly smooth and plump. 

But tonight... it was on a whole other level. The heat level in the city was at a hellish peak, and so was the level of sexual tension between the two of you, and considering that he hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks because of the damn heat, all of his senses were on edge. And while San was distracted from you by spending his days at the gym and running off to Seonghwa's apartment, Wooyoung had no choice but to face his temptation. 

He looked over his shoulder to find you still in the same position you had been a few minutes earlier, sprawled out on their soft grey sofa in your impossibly slutty pyjamas. His eyes slid down your body, taking in every detail—the way your shorts clung to your buttocks, the way the sweat dripped down into the hollow between your breasts, and the way you licked your lips, leaving them glistening and wet with saliva. Fuck, his cock twitched as the image of you running those very same lips over his cock, licking it like it was candy, flashed before his mind's eye. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He's in big trouble. Woo could feel his cock getting harder by the second, and there was no way he was going to make it back to his bedroom without you noticing the big bulge in his grey sweatpants. His eyes narrowed as you shifted slightly in your seat and spread your legs a little further apart so that he could now clearly see the fabric of your shorts digging in between your labia. The image of your juicy, thick thighs arranged on either side of his head as you lower your pussy to his face and rub your moist, soft folds against his tongue instantly appeared before his eyes.

"Fuck..." Wooyoung moaned loudly, and you turned all your attention to him immediately. With your mouth slightly agape in confusion and your eyes wide and shining, you were so adorable. Damn it, girl, you were just begging him to ruin you. 

"Wooyoung, are you okay?" The slightly confused, innocent tone of your voice made his cock twitch. It was already damned hard, the heavy, thick length throbbing with desire to feel the warm tightness of your cunt or the slippery wetness of your pretty mouth. 

The thought of you drooling on his cock made more pre-cum leak from his slit, coating the swollen, reddened head with a transparent glaze. Fuck, he'd give anything right now, just to see you licking up all the liquid with your naughty little tongue and looking up at him with your eyes wide open and glistening. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from pouncing on you at that very moment. 

God knows he tried; he honestly tried to take his eyes off of your crotch and to push all those lewd and dirty thoughts of you away from him, but it was stronger than he was. There you were, right in front of him, all sweet and seductive, in those fucking pyjamas, spreading your legs for him. How the hell could he resist the urge to fuck you senseless when you were provoking him, even if not on purpose? Wooyoung was just being a man. Sue him for that. 

"It's okay, baby. It's just the heat." Yes, it was all because of the heat of your little cunt that was hidden by your silk shorts. He could almost see the little wet spot of your mucus on the thin material. God, he needs help. Where the hell's San? 

"Come sit with me; it's cooler here." You said with a flutter of your fluffy eyelashes and a slight puff of your chubby cheeks, a habit he knew you'd had since you were a child and one that drove San crazy, and it seemed he wasn't the only one. But that didn't surprise Woo at all. He and San had the same taste in everything from soju to pussy. "Please." You stroked over the spot next to you with your hand and continued to look at him with those bambi eyes of yours. 

How could he refuse you? It had all happened so quickly that Wooyoung hadn't even noticed how he had ended up on the couch next to you, with your legs touching his thigh. He spread his legs slightly to hide the bulge of his cock, but it didn't help; he was hard as a rock, his cock pressed tightly against his stomach, the reddened, swollen head almost peeking out from under his grey sweatpants. 

Your legs shifted a little, causing your shorts to rise even higher, and Woo let out a soft moan. Your eyes slid down the length of his body until they stopped at his crotch, causing you to catch your breath. You quickly put two and two together and finally realised what the situation was, and you couldn't say that it didn't turn you on. You swallowed hard and lifted your eyes back up to his face, only to find yourself immediately trapped by his dark, intense gaze. Wooyoung was literally devouring you with his eyes as the tip of his tongue was poking out of the corner of his plump lips.

"Wooyoung...you...I..." You started to stutter, particularly when you felt his hot palm come down on your thigh. His skin was slightly rough, and his touch was possessive and heavy, but it only turned you on more. "I-I...do you need help with that?" You immediately wanted to cover your mouth with your hand as soon as those words left your mouth. 

What the hell are you even thinking? Lack of sex because of the heat shouldn't be a reason to fuck your stepbrother's best friend. And maybe you wouldn't mind San fucking you too, but that's a whole other story. Right now, your brain was feverishly searching for options for escape, but the way Wooyoung's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh made you focus all your attention on the awfully sexy guy right in front of you. His tongue came completely out of his mouth, only to run it slowly across his sensual lips. He was doing it on purpose; you were sure of it because this vixen knew exactly your weakness for his lips. 

There was something special about boys with full lips; you know what they say: They eat pussy like champions, and maybe you wouldn't mind trying it out with Wooyoung.

"Mmm, how can I refuse when you offer so kindly, baby?" Wooyoung begins, squeezing your thigh harder as he moves closer to you. Your breathing becomes heavy as the thick, rich scent of his perfume infiltrates all your senses. His handsome face is now so close to you that you can clearly see the small mole on his lower lip. Oh shit, that was not good. "You have no idea how much I want to feel that mouth around my cock." The tone of his voice is husky and sultry, sending shivers of excitement through your body, or is it because Wooyoung wraps his hand around your cheek and runs his thumb over your lips? You don't even know what to say back, too lost in the feeling of his touch on you. The feeling of his hot breath on your parted lips makes your brain soft and fuzzy. God, if he kisses you, you're going to melt faster than ice and you won't be able to blame the hellishly high heat index any more. "But for now..." You whimpered softly into his mouth as his tongue slid over your lips. "I want you to sit on my face, princess, and ride on my tongue until you cum in my mouth." Your whole body felt as if it had been immersed in boiling water, the scorching heat of excitement coursing through your veins as he said this, and your hand gripped the back of Wooyoung's head, preventing him from pulling away from you.

"Please..." You whispered against his lips. Your breathing was heavy and damp, as if you had a fever, and you could feel the sweat beginning to run down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. But now you couldn't blame it on the abnormal summer heat; it was all Wooyoung's fault. He was the one who made you burn. And be that as it may, it was too hot outside for a cuddle, but it was perfect for a fuck. 

"Damn, baby, come here." Wooyoung pushed himself off of you, and you followed him, throwing your legs over him so that you were now sitting on top of him. You arch your back and press yourself harder against him, the head of his cock sticking out from under the waistband of his sweatpants and touching your clothed pussy, making you moan. "You're very sensitive, aren't you?" Woo grins, all sly and devious. There's a devilish sparkle in his dark, foxy eyes, and his lips slowly curve into a wicked grin. He lifts his hips harder, pressing the head of his cock against your cunt, greedily swallowing your needy moans as your hips jerk at the slightest bit of stimulation he gives you. Wooyoung can't wait for his tongue to plunge into your wet pussy. 

"Wooyoung..." You whine, sliding your hands down his chest and gathering the thin fabric of his sleeveless top in your fists. His skin is damp and glistening with sweat, so hot and as if lava rather than blood flows beneath it; his sugary brown nipples have hardened, and you have the urge to press your mouth to them and run your tongue around the silver metal of his piercings. Hell, how could you resist when the boy was hotter than hell?

"So needy, baby." Woo wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you up to his face to lick your open mouth. "Don't worry, Peach, I'll give you everything and more. I'll eat you until you pass out." Wooyoung says it like a promise. A statement made with all the arrogance and selfishness of a man who knows he can do it. "Let's get this off you, baby." His fingers cling to the waistband of your silk shorts, the veins on his forearms swelling seductively from tension, and the sight of them makes your mouth water. 

Hot, so damn hot, you can't resist him. Foxy eyes sparkle as he pulls the shorts off your hips, moaning deeply when he sees that you're wearing nothing under those tiny shorts. You lift yourself up slightly to make things easier for him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders, the collar of his top wide enough to expose his sharp collarbones, and you can't help but press your mouth against them, licking greedily at his brackish skin. Wooyoung tastes like summer itself: sea breezes, the bittersweetness of a piña colada, passionate beach sex under a golden sunset. You moan into his skin, clinging to his shoulders, your fingers gliding lightly over damp skin, leaving red streaks.

 "Shit..." Wooyoung throws his head back as you begin to suck, leaving a scarlet red mark on his skin. He tugs impatiently at your shorts until he pulls them completely off you and tosses them aside. His hands are immediately on your buttocks, squeezing the soft, plump flesh and pulling them wide apart. 

The cool air from the fan kisses your heated centre, and you arch up into Wooyoung's arms, finally pulling away from his collarbone only to let your tongue run down the length of his thick, tense neck. The bulging veins pulsate beneath your tongue as you lick his neck and leave sloppy kisses with your open mouth on it. 

"Mmm, I love what you do, baby, but I can't stand it any longer." He removes one hand from your arse, and instead of this tangling his fingers in your hair, he clutches the strands in his fist as he pulls your head away from his neck. You looked so fucked up already, with those swollen lips, that flushed, wet skin, and that unfocused look in your eyes. Fuck, you'd be the death of him. "So fucking beautiful." Wooyoung pulls you close to him for a kiss, followed by a hard slap on your bottom. 

"Ah...Woo..." You scream at the force of his slap and feel the tender skin on your bottom begin to burn and tingle.

"Rise." Wooyoung commands you, and you obey. As soon as you give him enough room for movement, he slides to the floor and settles between your thighs. His head rests comfortably on the soft seat of the couch, nestled between your juicy thighs, and Wooyoung practically gasps to see your wet little cunt so close to his face. His cock throbs painfully, and Woo runs his hand through his grey sweatpants, squeezing it in his palm to ease the tension. "Enjoy the ride, peach." He says as he wraps his hands around your hips, kneading the flesh and finally pulling your labia apart so that your cunt is fully exposed to his hungry gaze. 

He moans softly as he admires your beautiful pussy, so wet and swollen. It is so sticky and pink, like a ripe fruit—so sweet and delicious. Wooyoung's mouth fills with saliva, and he snarls through his teeth as he sees the thick, viscous drop of your slime dripping out of your pretty little hole. Fuck, he wants to see it all stretched out and gaping, quality fucked on his tongue, on his fingers, on his cock. He wants to fuck you stupid until you're a crying, drooling mess. 

"That's it, baby, sit down." Wooyoung gasps, squeezes your thighs until they're bruised, and pulls you down onto his waiting tongue. 

"Oh my God, Wooyoung!" You let out a loud moan and threw your head back as his tongue began to caress your pussy. His movements are skilled and expert, as he runs his long, hot tongue from your swollen clit to your hole, gathering up all the mucus that is leaking out of you and drinking it down as if it were water, and he was dying of thirst. 

Your voluptuous thighs clenched around his head, your fingers tangling in his long, silky hair, tugging lightly on the strands as you rocked against his tongue and pressed your pussy even harder against his handsome face. 

Wooyoung purred in endorsement, sending vibrations through your sensitive, heated centre, and you threw your head back, rolling your eyes in pleasure as you let out those beautiful little sobs. A beads of sweat rolled down your back as you rubbed your cunt against Wooyoung's tongue, and you could feel how your skin was tingling with the hot, lustful heat of it. The summer heat was scorching the city and causing people to avoid all touches, but right now all you wanted to do was burn up in Wooyoung's arms. 

His grip on your thighs is almost painful, and every now and then Wooyoung slaps your bottom hard, making you stifle half-sobbing and making more sticky, sweet fluid leak from your hole onto his tongue. 

"Feeling so good...shit, Wooyoung!" 

"That's it, Peach; keep moaning for me." Woo growls, pushing his nose against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders at the new stimulation, and you louder scream Wooyoung's name as you pull harder on his long, silky hair. 

He moans at this, burying his face even deeper between your thighs, his nose completely buried in your pretty cunt, the lack of oxygen mixed with the taste of you on his tongue making him dizzy, his cock twitching with excitement and leaking copiously with pre-ejaculate, leaving a wet stain on the front of his sweatpants. Your hips swayed in time to his tongue as you rubbed your wet pussy against his eager mouth, muffling his moans and growls. The thought crossed his mind: If he died now, suffocated by your sweet cunt, he would die happy. 

"Please, Woo, I want your tongue. Please, I'm so empty. Fill me up with it, Daddy. Let me feel it inside of me; I need it so much." You moan, and Wooyoung, who is more than happy to oblige you, immediately pushes his tongue into your needy hole. The wet, warm sensation makes you both moan loudly. The tight walls of your slutty cunt contract around Wooyoung's tongue, trying to hold the long, slippery appendage inside as he penetrates deeper, pushing into the silky walls, causing you to release even more mucus, which now flows freely into his mouth. 

"You're my baby girl. All this pretty cunt just for Daddy." Wooyoung moans as he kisses your pink pussy, catching his breath slightly. He feels like he's in heaven—you smell so paradisiacally, and you taste, hell, the best pussy he's ever tasted, and maybe Woo is already addicted to you. It's hard for him to let you go now that he's been in touch with the divine. 

He takes a deep breath, intoxicated by your sweet, slutty cunt, clutches your sensitive clit as he envelops it with his plump lips, starts sucking hard on it, then soothes it with lazy tongue strokes. 

"Ooooh... That, Lord..." You let out a loud and shameless moan, pulling Wooyoung by the hair and shivering with the whole of your body. You feel like you're on fire; all your senses are on edge; a sticky, tingling heat is kissing your skin. Every movement of Woo's skilful tongue as it slides between your folds is sending you deeper and deeper into a haze of pleasure. 

You're so lost that you keep riding Wooyoung's face even when he moves away to catch his breath. You arch your back, throw your head back, and spin your slutty hips relentlessly in small circles. You rub your juicy cunt against Woo's stunningly beautiful, chiselled face, smearing your slime all over his cheeks and chin. 

"I want...I want to cum. I want to be the best girl for you and squirt all over you...make me Daddy, make me cum. Please, I want it so bad." Your voice is cracked and hoarse; you're so close to orgasm. God, the hot sensation of a scalding knot of pleasure is getting tighter and tighter inside of you. Your hips begin to tremble. You lose your rhythm and let Wooyoung's strong hands guide your every move. 

"How can I refuse you, Princess, when you ask so politely? Come on, baby, let's make you squirt." Wooyoung growls before he plunges his tongue as deep as he can into your pussy, moving it around in finely honed motions as he writes his name on the walls of your tiny, stretched-out cunt. He removes one of his hands from your thigh, only to slip it between your legs and pinch your swollen, trembling clit. 

You squeal as you unconsciously bring your legs together and bury Wooyoung's face in your pussy. His fingers slide down your slit and gather up the slime before he begins to rub your clit with them in an aggressive manner as he continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue. 

"Yes! Yes, oh my God. Wooyoung, I'm close, I'm close. I'm going to..." Your pussy pulsates around his tongue, the tender walls clenching together, almost preventing his movement. Your vision becomes blurred, your breathing heavy and hoarse as you feel the first waves of orgasm rolling over you at an unstoppable pace. A skilful pair of tongue movements and a sudden, painful squeeze of your clit between Wooyoung's fingers is all it takes to send you over the edge. You let out a loud squeal as your orgasm completely overwhelms you. 

A stream of warm liquid fills Wooyoung's mouth and, despite his best efforts to drink it down, runs down his face and down his neck. Your delicate body shudders over him, your eyes rolling as the pleasure rips through your exhausted body. Your orgasm is so intense and overwhelming that you lose touch with reality for a few minutes as Wooyoung continues to prolong your orgasm, twisting his tongue inside you. 

Exhausted, you lean back against the back of the couch and press your forehead, drenched in sweat, against the cool leather of the upholstery. Woo is licking his lips greedily, trying not to miss out on a single drop of your sweet juices. Ignoring his throbbing cock for this moment, he slowly climbs out from under you to help you. You sink onto the couch with your bare bottom, completely exhausted, and lean back against the soft upholstery as you tiredly cover your eyes, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

Your eyes only open when you feel Wooyoung's strong hands spread your thighs again so he can have a look at your beautifully gaping cunt, still oozing with a mixture of his saliva and your sweet mucus. Woo leans over to you, only to press his tongue against your pussy once more and lick a long strip of it from your hole all the way to your flushed clit. You moan and push his shoulder, trying to get him to move away from your all-too-sensitive centre.

"Please... I can't take it anymore." You whine, and Wooyoung just grins at you. He crawls up the length of your body and wraps his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

"You're so sweet, baby, I think I'm addicted. What are you going to do about it?" He whispers against your lips, and maybe if you were in a different situation you'd give his words more meaning, but instead you run your fingers through his sweaty hair and pull him to kiss you. You moan loudly, tasting yourself as his tongue enters your mouth, and you let Wooyoung lick your mouth on the inside completely. 

When the kiss ends, you both take a moment to catch your breath. You lazily run your hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the fabric of his shirt clinging to his sweaty, heated skin. You probably don't look much better, just as sweaty and sticky as Wooyoung. 

"Woo," you say, and he lifts his head to look at you with heavy, half-closed bedroom eyes. 

"Mmm, what is that, Peach?" He starts to plant light kisses on your jaw, his lips still sticky with your cum.

"We need a shower; we're fucking disgusting." Your fingers run lazily through his hair as Wooyoung continues to kiss you.

"Fucked up, baby. We're fucking fucked." He corrects you. "But you're right, Peach, we need a shower." He gives you one last peck on the lips and gets up. "And maybe..." His voice trailed off, and you turned your head to the side in confusion, peering out from behind the back of the couch. 

Your step brother is leaning against the doorjamb, looking at the two of you with his beautiful cat eyes. His lips curve into a smile, revealing the deep dimples in his cheeks. San looks absolutely stunning, a perfect five-course meal; he's clearly just finished his workout, judging by the way his damp t-shirt clings to his perfectly sculpted body. Oh shit...

"Um, welcome back, Sannie..." You say awkwardly, already berating yourself for the stupid thing you just said. You cross your legs, trying to cover yourself, but it only draws his attention to your condition.

"I see Woo has taken good care of you in my absence; haven't you, Peach?" He asks, slowly walking over to you and Wooyoung as he pulls his sweaty t-shirt off over his head and exposing his perfect abs. 

Oh shit. 

Wooyoung laughs, takes your hand, and lifts you up, pulling you towards her, giving San a perfect view of your bare bum. You cringe, not knowing how to react in this situation, until you feel San's hot body pressing against your back, his broad palms resting on your waist. 

"Mind if I join you in the shower, princess? I don't think you look fucked enough, baby. We need to fix that right now, don't we, baby?

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections

Three weeks into your new position as ATEEZ's assistant, you had settled into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. What had initially seemed like a daunting task—managing eight alpha idols' complex schedules—had evolved into something that felt almost instinctive. You'd quickly learned each member's habits, preferences, and needs, sometimes anticipating them before they even voiced them.

"Coffee," you said, placing a steaming mug beside Hongjoong as he hunched over his laptop in the studio, deep in composition mode. He'd been there since before dawn, working on tracks for their upcoming album.

He looked up, momentarily disoriented as he surfaced from his creative focus, before his eyes softened with appreciation. "How did you know I was about to look for some?"

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "You get this specific crease between your eyebrows when you're caffeine-deprived and trying to work through a melody."

Hongjoong's eyebrows rose slightly, an impressed smile spreading across his face. "That's... remarkably observant."

"It's my job to notice things," you replied, though you both knew it went beyond professional responsibility. There was something about the eight of them that made you unusually attuned to their needs—a connection you couldn't fully explain but had stopped questioning.

"Well, thank you," Hongjoong said, his fingers briefly brushing yours as he took the mug. The fleeting contact sent a familiar warmth through your hand that you studiously ignored. "What would we do without you?"

"Probably forget half your schedules and subsist entirely on ramyeon," you teased, earning a chuckle from the alpha leader.

"Sad but true," he admitted, taking a sip of the perfectly prepared coffee—just the right amount of sugar and a splash of cream, exactly how he preferred it.

---

The mid-morning sun streamed through the windows of the main house as you moved through the living room, tablet in hand, finalizing the week's schedule. The past three weeks had transformed your relationship with the space—what had once felt like an intimidating mansion now felt almost like home. You knew which floorboard creaked near Seonghwa's room, which chair in the dining area was Jongho's favorite, and which cabinet held San's secret stash of chocolate.

"There you are!" Wooyoung's voice rang out as he bounded into the room with characteristic energy. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I've been right here for the past hour," you replied, glancing up from your work with an amused smile.

"Well, I didn't think to look in the obvious places," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, you're a miracle worker—how did you manage to reschedule that conflicting interview? The production team said it was impossible."

"Nothing's impossible with the right combination of polite persistence and creative solutions," you replied, trying to downplay your achievement. In truth, it had taken several hours of negotiations and a promise of exclusive behind-the-scenes content to convince the production company to adjust their filming schedule to accommodate ATEEZ's sudden comeback preparation timeline.

Wooyoung's eyes widened dramatically. "That's it. I have to marry you. I can never manage my life alone now that I know what efficiency actually looks like."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks despite knowing this was just Wooyoung's typical exaggerated banter. Over the past weeks, you'd grown accustomed to his playful flirtations, which he dispensed as freely as his bright smiles.

"I'm pretty sure your future spouse would have something to say about that arrangement," you replied, playfully swatting his arm with your tablet case.

"Details, details," Wooyoung dismissed with a grin before dropping down onto the couch beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Seriously though, thank you. That schedule conflict was stressing me out."

"That's what I'm here for," you reminded him, though you were touched by his genuine gratitude beneath the dramatic declaration.

Wooyoung's expression turned suddenly serious, unusual for him. "You know you've become indispensable to us, right? And not just for the schedule management."

Something in his tone made your heart beat a little faster, and you found yourself struggling to maintain eye contact with the alpha. There was an intensity in his gaze that belied his typically carefree demeanor—a glimpse of the alpha nature that his playful personality often concealed.

"I just do my job," you replied, aiming for lightness but hearing the slight tremor in your own voice.

"No," Wooyoung said, shaking his head. "It's more than that. You... fit with us. In a way that's hard to explain."

The moment hung between you, charged with something neither of you was willing to name. You were saved from having to respond by Yeosang's timely entrance into the living room.

"There you both are," he said, his observant eyes taking in your proximity on the couch and the slight flush on your cheeks. "Y/n, the stylist called about the concept photos. They need final approval on the selections."

"Right," you said, perhaps too quickly, rising from the couch. "I'll call them back now."

As you moved toward the office, you felt Wooyoung's eyes following you, the weight of his unfinished sentiment lingering in the air.

---

You've developed a unique relationship with each member over the past three weeks. Seonghwa had become a steadying presence, often joining you for quiet morning coffee before the chaos of the day began. Your conversations ranged from books you both enjoyed to thoughtful discussions about the industry, his alpha presence calm and nurturing in a way that contrasted with the others.

Yunho had appointed himself your unofficial gaming partner, insisting that you needed breaks from work and dragging you to the entertainment room at least twice a week for what he called "necessary stress relief." His competitive nature was matched only by his genuine joy when you managed to beat him, making it impossible not to laugh along with his enthusiastic reactions.

Yeosang had slowly opened up to you through shared quiet moments—passing you books he thought you might enjoy, occasionally commenting on your work with insightful observations. Just yesterday, he'd left a small potted succulent on your desk with a note that simply read, "It reminded me of you. Resilient." The gesture had touched you more deeply than you cared to admit.

Jongho, despite being the youngest, often took on a protective role, making sure you didn't overwork yourself and occasionally bringing you healthy snacks with mumbled comments about "maintaining energy levels." His strength and seriousness were belied by moments of unexpected gentleness that always caught you by surprise.

San had become something of a confidant, his perceptive nature making him quick to notice when you were stressed or overtired. He had a talent for appearing with exactly what you needed—a quiet moment, a silly joke, or sometimes just silent company as you worked through a challenging task.

As for Hongjoong, your relationship with the leader was perhaps the most complex. His alpha presence was authoritative but never domineering, and you'd fallen into a comfortable working relationship that was punctuated by moments of connection that sometimes left you breathless—a shared glance of understanding across a crowded room, the brush of fingers when exchanging documents, late nights working side by side in comfortable silence.

But it was Mingi who had perhaps surprised you the most.

---

"Who's that?" Mingi's deep voice came from just behind you, making you jump slightly. You'd been waiting in the lobby of KQ Entertainment for the members to finish their recording session when an unfamiliar alpha producer had approached, asking about ATEEZ's schedule.

"Lee Taejun, a producer from another entertainment company," you explained quietly as the man retreated to check his phone after you'd informed him the members would be at least another thirty minutes. "He wants to discuss a potential collaboration."

Mingi hummed thoughtfully, his tall frame moving subtly closer to you in a way that had become familiar over the past weeks. Whenever unfamiliar alphas were around, particularly male ones, Mingi seemed to gravitate to your side, his protective instincts evident in the way he positioned himself—never imposing, but clearly present.

"Did Hongjoong-hyung approve this meeting?" he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Yes, it's on the schedule," you assured him, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth that radiated from his proximity. Despite wearing your scent blocker faithfully, you found yourself increasingly sensitive to Mingi's presence—like your omega could sense something you couldn’t.

He nodded, satisfied with your answer but making no move to create more distance between you. "Just checking. Some of these producers can be... persistent."

You bit back a smile at his protective tone. "I can handle persistent producers, Mingi. It's part of my job."

"I know you can," he replied, his voice softening. "You can handle pretty much anything. Doesn't mean you should have to do it alone."

The simple statement caught you off guard. Over the past three weeks, you'd noticed Mingi's protective tendencies, but this explicit acknowledgment of them was new. You glanced up at him, finding his expression uncharacteristically serious, his dark eyes intent on yours.

"Thank you," you said quietly, meaning it. "But I'm okay, really."

Mingi's serious expression melted into a warm smile that made your heart stutter embarrassingly. "I know. You're probably more capable than all of us combined. Still doesn't mean I can't look out for you, though."

Before you could formulate a response, the elevator doors opened, and the rest of ATEEZ emerged, bringing with them a burst of alpha energy and animated conversation. Mingi's attention shifted, but he remained close to your side as the group approached.

"Recording's done!" San announced triumphantly. "And Jongho absolutely killed the high note in the bridge."

Jongho ducked his head modestly at the praise, though a pleased smile played on his lips.

"That's fantastic," you said, genuinely happy for them. The past week had been intense with comeback preparations, and this recording session had been particularly important. "Right on schedule too, which means you actually have time for lunch before the meeting with the choreographer."

"See? This is why we need you," Wooyoung declared, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Always thinking about our stomachs."

"I’m glad I have redeeming qualities," you replied with a laugh, acutely aware of how Mingi's eyes tracked Wooyoung's casual touch.

"There's a new place nearby that supposedly has amazing jjigae," Yunho suggested, already pulling out his phone to check the location.

As the group discussed lunch options, you felt a subtle shift in the air beside you. You glanced over to find Mingi still watching you, a contemplative expression on his face. When your eyes met, he didn't look away as he might have in your first days working together. Instead, he held your gaze with a quiet intensity that made your skin tingle.

There was something in that look—something you'd been noticing more frequently from all of them—a question, perhaps, or a recognition that neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge.

---

The development of your bond with Mingi had been one of the more unexpected aspects of your first three weeks. Initially, he had seemed the most reserved around you, despite his normally outgoing nature with the others. You'd attributed it to shyness after the awkward first-morning encounter when you'd seen him shirtless, but gradually, you'd come to realize it was something else entirely.

Mingi's initial distance had given way to a subtle but unmistakable protectiveness that manifested in countless small ways. He was often the first to notice when you were overworking, insisting you take breaks with a gentle persistence that was difficult to refuse. He had a habit of appearing with water or tea when you'd been talking for too long during meetings. And most notably, he seemed to have an almost preternatural awareness of your presence, his eyes finding you across rooms, his body gravitating toward yours in crowded spaces.

It had evolved into something beyond professional courtesy, beyond even friendship, though neither of you had put words to the change. There was an unspoken understanding between you—a connection that seemed to require no explanation.

---

That evening found you in the main house's kitchen, preparing tea while reviewing the next day's schedule on your tablet. The members were scattered throughout the house, enjoying a rare evening with no official schedules. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were discussing production details in the living room, their voices a low, constant murmur. Wooyoung and San had disappeared to the game room with Yunho, while Jongho was in the home gym. Yeosang had retreated to his room with a new book after dinner.

Mingi's deep voice suddenly broke into your concentration. "You're still working?"

You looked up to find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his tall frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He'd changed into comfortable clothes—loose sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt that did little to conceal his broad shoulders and defined arms.

"Just finalizing tomorrow's schedule," you explained, trying not to let your eyes linger on how the soft fabric clung to his chest. "There's a last-minute addition to the photoshoot concept that I'm trying to accommodate."

Mingi pushed off from the doorway and moved into the kitchen, the space suddenly feeling much smaller with his presence. "It's almost 10 PM. The schedule can wait until morning."

"Says the man who composes until 3 AM," you countered with a raised eyebrow.

A smile tugged at his lips. "That's different. That's creative work—it comes when it comes. You're doing admin work that your brain needs to be rested for."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his logic. "Is that your professional opinion on administrative efficiency?"

"Absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "I'm an expert in all things schedule-related, as evidenced by how often I oversleep and miss breakfast."

The teakettle whistled, and you turned to pour the hot water into your waiting mug. You felt rather than saw Mingi move closer, his warmth at your back sending a shiver down your spine despite the steam rising from the kettle.

"Chamomile?" he asked, his voice closer to your ear than you'd expected.

You nodded, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened at his proximity. "It helps me sleep."

"Good choice," he murmured, reaching past you to open a cabinet above your head. The movement brought his chest briefly against your back, his arm extending alongside yours. For that fleeting moment, you were effectively surrounded by him, his alpha presence enveloping you in a way that made your omega instincts stir despite the blocker.

He retrieved another mug and placed it beside yours. "Make one for me too?"

You nodded, grateful for the simple task to focus on rather than the lingering warmth where his body had pressed against yours. As you prepared a second cup of tea, Mingi leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that his arm occasionally brushed yours.

"You know," he began, his tone conversational but with an underlying seriousness, "you've changed things around here. In a good way."

You glanced up at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

Mingi seemed to consider his words carefully. "It's hard to explain. Everything just feels more... balanced, I guess. Since you arrived. The house feels more like a home."

Something about his phrasing—the house feels more like a home—sent a warm flutter through your chest. "I'm glad," you said softly. "I've only been trying to do my job well."

"It's more than the job," Mingi said, echoing Wooyoung's words from earlier that day. His eyes held yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "You must know that by now."

The implication hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning neither of you was quite ready to articulate. What exactly was the "more" that both Wooyoung and Mingi had alluded to? And why did it feel so significant, so charged with potential?

You handed him his tea, your fingers briefly touching his around the warm ceramic. The simple contact sent a jolt of awareness through you that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the alpha standing before you.

"Mingi," you began, not entirely sure what you wanted to say but feeling the need to address the tension that had been building between you—between you and all of them, really—over these past weeks.

"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently, his deep voice soft in the quiet kitchen. "I just wanted you to know that we—I—appreciate you. Not just for what you do, but for who you are."

The simple sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, making your chest ache with an emotion you weren't ready to name. "Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a silent exchange that seemed to communicate more than words could. Mingi's eyes dropped briefly to your lips before returning to meet your gaze, the question in them clear despite remaining unspoken.

The sound of approaching voices broke the moment, and you both stepped back slightly, creating a more appropriate distance as Hongjoong and Seonghwa entered the kitchen.

"There you are," Hongjoong said, his eyes moving between you and Mingi with a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "We were just discussing the schedule for next week's variety show filming."

"I've got the preliminary timeline here," you said, grateful for the professional topic as you reached for your tablet, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Mingi's presence still beside you.

As the four of you discussed the upcoming schedule, you couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, the way their eyes occasionally drifted to where Mingi stood perhaps a bit closer to you than strictly necessary. There was an awareness in those glances, an understanding that spoke of conversations you hadn't been privy to.

Later, as you made your way back to the guesthouse in the cool night air, you found yourself reflecting on the strange tension that had been building over these three weeks. It wasn't merely attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something deeper at play—a connection that defied explanation, a pull toward these eight alphas that went beyond rational understanding.

You reached up to touch the scent blocker behind your ear, a habit that had become almost unconscious. For the first time, you found yourself wondering what might happen if they knew—if the barrier between your omega nature and their alpha senses were removed. The thought sent a shiver through you that wasn't entirely from fear.

As you entered the guesthouse, your phone buzzed with a message. Opening it, you found a text from Mingi:

Sleep well. Don't stay up working on that schedule. It can wait until morning.

The simple message, caring but not overstepping, made you smile despite the confusion swirling in your mind. Whatever was happening between you and the members of ATEEZ—whatever this unspoken connection was building toward—it couldn't be rushed or forced. For now, it was enough to know that in just three short weeks, you had found a place where you belonged, even if the full nature of that belonging remained undefined.

You sent a quick reply:

Already in bed. Tea worked its magic. Goodnight, Mingi.

Setting your phone aside, you settled into bed, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of the same delicate dance—professional boundaries maintained while something deeper and more complex continued to grow beneath the surface, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

---

The next morning, it took less than five minutes in the main house to realize that something was different. The normal morning chaos was present—Wooyoung complaining loudly about being woken up, Yunho raiding the refrigerator, Seonghwa preparing breakfast with practiced efficiency—but there was an undercurrent of energy that hadn't been there before.

"Good morning," Hongjoong greeted you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," you replied, accepting the coffee mug he offered. "Is everything okay? Everyone seems a bit... tense this morning."

Hongjoong hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Seonghwa before responding. "We received some news late last night after you left. The company wants to move up the comeback date by two weeks."

You blinked in surprise, immediately calculating the implications. "Two weeks? That's going to compress the entire production schedule."

"Exactly," Seonghwa confirmed, flipping a pancake with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Which means we're all going to be under pressure for the next month."

"I'll rework the schedule today," you promised, your mind already racing through the adjustments that would be needed. "We'll need to prioritize the final recording sessions and choreography refinement."

"See?" Wooyoung said, appearing in the doorway with his hair still rumpled from sleep. "This is why we need you. Anyone else would be panicking right now."

You smiled despite the challenge ahead. "Oh, I'm panicking internally. I just hide it well."

"No, you're not," San countered, coming up behind Wooyoung. "You're already solving the problem in your head. I can practically see the schedule rearranging behind your eyes."

You couldn't deny it—your mind was indeed already mapping out solutions, contingencies, ways to make the compressed timeline work without burning out the members. It was what you did best: creating order from chaos.

"Well, whatever happens, we'll handle it together," you said with more confidence than you felt. "That's what teams do, right?"

"Right," Hongjoong agreed, though something in his expression suggested he was thinking of a word other than "team."

As you took a seat at the kitchen island, accepting a plate of pancakes from Seonghwa with a grateful smile, you couldn't help but notice how the members seemed to orbit around you this morning—Mingi taking the seat beside you, his leg occasionally brushing against yours; Jongho appearing with fresh fruit he silently added to your plate; Yeosang placing your tablet within easy reach after charging it overnight.

Small gestures, casual touches, attentive glances—all conveying something that went beyond professional courtesy or even friendship. There was a possessiveness in these actions, subtle but unmistakable, as if each of them was staking a small claim on your attention, your presence.

And despite your best efforts to maintain professional boundaries, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at their collective attention, the rightness you felt surrounded by these eight alphas who had somehow, in just three weeks, become essential to your life in ways you were only beginning to understand.

Whatever challenges the accelerated comeback schedule would bring, whatever complications might arise from the unspoken tension building between you and the members, one thing was certain: you belonged here, with them, in this strange new life you'd created. The how and why of that belonging might remain mysterious, but the fact of it was becoming more undeniable with each passing day.

As conversations about the day's schedule flowed around you, punctuated by Wooyoung's dramatic complaints and San's teasing laughter, you found yourself studying each member's face, wondering if they felt it too—this sense of inevitability, as if all of you were being drawn together by forces beyond your control or understanding.

Catching Mingi's eye across the table, you saw in his gaze a reflection of your own thoughts—questions, certainly, but also a quiet acceptance of whatever might be unfolding between you all. He offered a small, private smile that sent a flutter through your chest, and for that moment at least, questions didn't seem to matter quite as much as the simple truth of your connection.

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