#i miss keyboard commands....

[verved]

I miss my real tablet. I finally have like. The desire to draw but working w this tablet is so limiting.

[relto]

tried to fix a raspi where the ethernet wasnt working, and in the process i fucked it up completely.

[wwinterwitch]

friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 2 (features the thunderbolts* now)

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?" 

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no. 

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that– serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing. 

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — reader tries taking control but dom!riki at the end tho, reader’s younger; some use of oppa, sucking him off while he’s playing games on call, raw sex (stay safe!), choking, drooling, cockwarming, he calls her slut once, cum eating (?).

WORDCOUNT — 0.8K

NOTE — finally have some free time to work on this (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ) not beta or proofread, lmk if i missed anything in warnings ! it’s a bit shorter than my usual but yems hope its fine.

You were bored out of your mind, tossing and turning in Riki’s bed while he played games with his members. The clicking of his keyboard and the sound of their conversation were the only noises filling the room. You had tried convincing him to come to bed with you, but nothing seemed to work.

Growing frustrated, you finally decided to approach him. He paid you no attention as you settled quietly beneath his desk, resting your cheek gently on his knee. The small action caught his attention for a brief moment, but he quickly refocused on the game, leaving you pouting in frustration.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you were feeling needy—and the sight of him in grey sweats wasn’t helping. Teasingly, you let your hand trail over to his thighs, your touch slowly moving upward to brush against his soft length. You felt it stir under your hand, gradually coming to life as it hardened.

You heard him try to stifle a groan, and the sound only encouraged you to continue. Tugging at the hem of his sweats, you waited for him to lift his hips, which he did to make it easier for you. Once his cock was bare, you teasingly took it in your hand, giving gentle kitten licks to the tip. Riki tried his best to stay focused on his game, but his shallow breathing betrayed him. You wrapped your lips around the tip, drawing a soft moan from him.

“You okay, Riki?” a voice asked from his headset.

“Y-yeah, just hit my knee against the desk,” he replied shakily, glancing down at you.

Your teasing puppy eyes met his, and you continued your ministrations, moving your mouth farther down his length as you bobbed your head up and down. One of your hands slipped lower, attending to your own growing arousal. You hummed against him, sending vibrations through his body, causing him to twitch as you continued teasing, trying to take control of the situation.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit,” he suddenly said, his voice strained. It didn’t take long for him to remove his headset, muting himself before finally turning his attention to you.

Gripping your hair, he pulled you off his cock, leaving a trail of drool connecting your lips to him. “You’re such a needy little slut, aren’t you? Thinking you can take control like that,” he said, his tone dripping with dominance as his hand slid from your hair to your neck.

“You keep ignoring me,” you pouted, your protest cut short as he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Well, here’s your attention,” he taunted, smirking. “Now be a good girl and sit still, hmm?”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed back into your mouth, this time thrusting deeper as he kept your hair tightly in his grip. You gagged slightly around him, feeling drool slip from the corners of your mouth and drip onto the floor, your body trembling as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“Tsk, leaving such a mess,” he muttered, pushing deeper into your throat until the tip hit the back, making you let out choked up noises. You took him without resistance as he used you, the tension building quickly until he spilled his release down your throat.

“There you go, swallow it, baby,” he commanded. You obeyed, swallowing and showing him the proof, earning a smirk. “Good girl.”

Pulling you up to your feet, he quickly slipped your panties down, his movements swift and deliberate. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he groaned, watching your arousal coat your puffy folds. He ran his fingers over you teasingly making you moan gently before positioning you over his lap. In one smooth motion, he guided you down onto his cock, the angle making him hit deep inside you.

“Ngh… oppa…” you whined, trying to move your hips up and down, desperate for more. But his hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place and stopping your movements.

“Shh. Stay quiet and wait ‘till I’m finished, baby. Maybe then I’ll reward you with a good fuck, hmm?” he teased, thrusting up into you gently before going completely still, leaving you aching with frustration.

“Hi, sorry, I’m back,” Riki said casually into his mic, his tone unaffected as he slipped his headphones back on and resumed playing his game as if nothing had happened. You squirmed, trying to find relief in the smallest of movements, but he stopped you every time, forcing you to wait.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally logged off, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, since you’ve been such a good girl and waited, let oppa focus on you,” he said with a sly grin, guiding your hips to move up and down on his cock.

“Oppa…! Mhm.. f-fuck… feels so good~!” you cried out, your relief finally spilling over as he let you move at last.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on me like the needy girl you are,” he growled, gripping your waist firmly, guiding your hips to move, finally letting you chase the release you’d been denied.

The room filled with the sound of your muffled cries and his heavy breathing as the torturous wait gave way to overwhelming relief, your body finally giving in to everything you had been craving.

TAGLIST — @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

[reidmarieprentiss]

Depollute Me

Summary: You join the BAU and Spencer is a smitten kitten.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of morgue details from a case, mentions of struggle from a case, alcohol consumptions

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: lol so this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS i have not read it since then but i feel so bad for never posting anymore so please accept this while i get my life together !!!

Spencer walked into the bullpen on what seemed to be a very typical Monday morning. The hum of chatter and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards filled the air, as it usually did. Without much thought, he placed his well-worn satchel down on his desk, the familiar weight leaving his shoulder as he began his habitual routine. His focus was singular: getting to the breakroom for his morning coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee guided him, and within moments, he returned to his desk, ready to dive into the day's work.

As he settled into his chair, Spencer reached for a stack of files when a voice interrupted his concentration. "Reid, did you not notice the new girl?" Morgan's tone was laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement, causing Spencer to pause mid-motion.

“Huh?” Spencer finally looked up, his mind still partially entangled in the tasks he was about to undertake. His routine had been so ingrained that he hadn’t even glanced around the room.

Morgan smirked, nodding towards the far side of the bullpen. "Over by JJ’s office."

Spencer's gaze followed the direction Morgan indicated, and for the first time, he noticed you. A young woman, probably in her mid twenties, was standing near JJ's office, dressed in a sharp, well-tailored pantsuit that hugged her figure in a way that was both professional and undeniably flattering. Your presence was commanding, yet you seemed approachable with an air of confidence.

“Who is that?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he observed the new arrival with a mixture of intrigue and surprise.

Before Morgan could answer, Hotch, who happened to be walking by at that moment, interjected in his usual calm, authoritative manner. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” he informed them, his tone as steady as ever. “She’s from the Sex Crimes Unit, a promising young agent.”

Morgan, ever the one to tease, leaned back in his chair with a playful grin. “Looks like you’re not the baby anymore, pretty boy.”

Spencer, though still focused on the new agent, managed to respond with a slight shrug. “I’m okay with that.” His voice was soft, but there was a hint of relief in his words. Perhaps the idea of no longer being the youngest on the team was a comforting thought.

Hotch, who was moving on to another task, paused briefly to add one more detail, as if to settle any lingering questions. “She’s older than you, Reid. Actually.”

Morgan, not missing a beat, raised an eyebrow. “How old? She looks good,” he remarked, his eyes still on you, appreciating your composed demeanor and striking appearance.

Hotch, always the voice of reason and decorum, shot Morgan a warning look. “Morgan,” he cautioned, before continuing, “she’s 28.”

“I’m almost 28…” Spencer mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, as if to rationalize his place on the team.

“Okay, baby,” Morgan teased, chuckling as he reached over to playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair. The affectionate gesture was a typical part of their dynamic, one that Spencer had grown accustomed to over the years.

Spencer gave a small smile, shaking his head slightly at Morgan's teasing, but his mind was already drifting back to the new agent. There was something about you that intrigued him, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to work alongside you. The idea of no longer being the youngest wasn’t as unsettling as it once might have been.

“Agents, round table, five minutes,” Hotch’s voice cut through the usual hum of activity in the bullpen. The announcement was direct, as always, leaving no room for delay or distraction. Spencer, along with the rest of the team, immediately began to gather their things, each of them accustomed to the rhythm of their work.

As the team filed into the conference room and took their usual seats around the round table, there was an undercurrent of curiosity in the air. Eyes subtly darted towards the new face at the table, though the attempts at being inconspicuous were, in truth, anything but. It was clear that everyone was eager to learn more about the person who would be joining their tight-knit group.

Hotch, standing at the head of the table, wasted no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “As you have all noticed, we have a new member joining the team,” he began, his voice steady as he motioned towards you. “This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s joining us from Sex Crimes.”

A chorus of greetings filled the room, each team member offering their version of “hello” or “welcome.” Despite the collective effort to make you feel at ease, Spencer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. His usual reserved nature gave way to an inexplicable fascination with your confident yet soft demeanor. The way you met each person’s eyes with a small, genuine smile only deepened his curiosity.

As Hotch briefed the team, Spencer’s thoughts kept drifting back to you. He noticed how attentively you listened, your calm focus suggesting you were already a step ahead. His mind wandered, wondering about your experiences, your approach, and who you were beyond the BAU walls.

When your eyes briefly met his, Spencer felt a jolt of something unfamiliar. The room seemed to fade as he quickly looked down, warmth creeping up his neck. It was unusual for him to be so distracted during a briefing, but there was something about you that he couldn’t quite place.

As the team dispersed, Spencer hesitated, glancing at you again. He wondered if you had noticed his lapse in concentration, but your calm, professional expression gave nothing away. Now, he couldn’t help but feel both eager and off balance, curious about how you would fit into the team—and what that might mean for him.

—

It was your first away case with the team, and as you boarded the jet, the weight of newness settled on your shoulders. The BAU team moved with the ease of seasoned travelers, each member instinctively knowing their place and routine. You, on the other hand, hesitated, unsure of where to sit, not wanting to take anyone's usual spot and disrupt the unspoken order.

As you stood there, trying to decide, Emily caught your eye and offered you a warm, reassuring smile. "Hey, why don't you sit next to me?" she suggested kindly, patting the seat beside her.

Grateful for her understanding, you nodded and made your way over, sliding into the seat she had saved for you. The small gesture of kindness made the moment feel a little less daunting, easing the nervousness that had been creeping in since you’d learned about the case. 

As the team engaged in a lively discussion about the case, you tried to focus on the file in front of you, but a strange sensation crept over you—a shiver that ran down your spine, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. It felt as though someone was watching you, and the thought was impossible to ignore.

Lifting your eyes from the file, you glanced toward the couch on the jet. There he was, Doctor Spencer Reid, as you'd been introduced to him earlier. His gaze was unmistakably fixed on you, a quiet intensity in his eyes that you could feel even from across the cabin. The moment your eyes met, his gaze snapped away, almost too quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

It was curious, to say the least. 

—

The team had just settled into the bustling Milwaukee precinct, the air thick with the tension of a new case and the quiet hum of police activity around them. Hotch stood at the center of the room, efficiently handing out assignments with his usual calm authority. 

“Reid, Y/L/N, you go to the morgue,” Hotch instructed, his voice steady as he looked between the two of you. 

Spencer felt a jolt of nervousness shoot through him at the assignment. The idea of spending time alone with you set his mind racing. His thoughts spiraled through a thousand different scenarios—what he would say, how he would act, whether you would notice his awkwardness. He tried to hide his unease, but the tightening in his chest betrayed how out of sorts he felt.

You, on the other hand, felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. The morgue wasn’t exactly a thrilling destination, but the chance to spend time with Spencer, the quiet and enigmatic doctor, piqued your interest. You’d been curious about him since you joined the team, drawn to the way his mind seemed to work in layers, each one more complex than the last. This was an opportunity to maybe get to know him better, to see beyond the brilliant profiler and into the person behind those thoughtful eyes.

As the two of you gathered your things and prepared to head out, Spencer gave you a small, tentative smile, his nerves still bubbling just beneath the surface. You returned the smile with genuine warmth, hoping to ease the tension you sensed in him. 

“Ready to go?” you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer nodded, his voice just a little tight as he replied, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

As you both made your way out of the precinct, the silence between you was comfortable, filled with the potential of what this small assignment could reveal. For Spencer, it was a chance to navigate the unfamiliar territory of getting to know someone new; for you, it was an exciting step toward understanding the mystery that was Doctor Spencer Reid.

“Do you, um, do you mind driving?” Spencer asked, his voice carrying a slight edge of hesitation as the two of you stood by the car.

You smiled, already finding his nervousness endearing. “No, not at all. Do you not like to drive?” you asked as you unlocked the car.

“I find it helps me focus more on the case if I don’t also have to focus on the road,” he explained, his words coming out in a rush as if he was worried about how you might take it.

You couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Oh, so I don’t need to focus as much as you?” you joked, throwing him a playful glance as you slid into the driver’s seat.

But Spencer, usually taking things quite literally, didn’t catch on to your teasing. His eyes widened slightly as he quickly tried to clarify. “No, no, not at all. I only meant that my mind is so busy all the time, and I—I just, I need to think a lot and—” His words tumbled out, his voice growing a bit more frantic as he tried to explain.

You immediately felt a pang of guilt for having flustered him. “Doctor Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out,” you said softly, cutting off his rambling. “I was only joking.”

There was a moment of silence, then Spencer took a small breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Spencer,” he corrected gently, his tone more composed now. “You can call me Spencer.”

You smiled, nodding as you started the car. “Alright, Spencer,” you agreed, feeling the ice between you start to melt just a little as you pulled out of the parking lot.

—

The sterile, cold air of the morgue enveloped you both as you walked through the doors, the metallic scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint, almost imperceptible odor of decay. The medical examiner, a middle-aged man with weary eyes, greeted you with a curt nod before leading you to the body you were there to examine.

As the examiner began to explain the preliminary findings, you focused intently on the details, your eyes scanning the body and the evidence laid out on the stainless steel table. Spencer stood beside you, his attention divided between listening to the examiner and observing your reactions. 

As the examiner pointed out a series of bruises on the victim’s torso, you leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes at the pattern. Something about it struck you as odd, but familiar. “These bruises,” you started, gesturing to them, “they’re not random. They look like they could be the result of a struggle, but not just any struggle—these marks here,” you pointed to a specific set, “they’re consistent with someone trying to defend themselves against a chokehold. The position and depth suggest they were made by the victim’s own hands, trying to pry off an attacker.”

The examiner paused, blinking in surprise. “I hadn’t considered that,” he admitted, clearly impressed by your quick assessment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his curiosity piqued by your insight. He leaned in closer to examine the bruises, following the line of your observation. “You’re right,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. “That makes sense, given the angle and the force. It would explain the bruising pattern on the victim’s neck as well.”

He looked up at you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was a good catch,” he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. It wasn’t often that someone impressed him with such a sharp, on-the-spot observation, especially in an area where his own expertise usually dominated.

You smiled back, feeling a warm flush of pride at his acknowledgment. “Thanks, Spencer,” you replied, the use of his first name feeling more natural now, as if that small barrier had already begun to dissolve. 

—

As you and Spencer drove back to the precinct, the earlier tension from the morgue had dissipated, leaving behind a more relaxed atmosphere. 

“So, Spencer,” you began, glancing over at him with a playful smile, “I have to ask, how did you get so good at noticing the smallest details? I mean, do you practice in your free time? Like, do you just walk around analyzing random people for fun?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused by the question. “Not exactly,” he replied, his tone light. “It’s more of a habit at this point. I’ve always been observant, even when I was a kid. I guess it just… developed naturally over time.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be impressed. “Naturally, huh? So, it’s like a superpower then? I bet you can tell all kinds of things about a person just by looking at them.” 

Spencer smiled, his gaze flickering between you and the road. “It’s not quite that dramatic,” he said, modest as ever. “But, yeah, I can usually pick up on a lot of details that others might miss.”

You decided to push the playful banter a little further. “So, what about me, then? What details have you picked up?” you teased, leaning in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the question. He clearly hadn’t expected you to turn the tables on him like that. “Um, well,” he stammered, his mind racing to formulate a response that wouldn’t sound too personal or invasive. “I’ve noticed that you’re very passionate about your work, that you’re observant, and that you care a lot about doing the right thing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer, even though it was far more earnest than you’d intended. “That’s sweet, Spencer,” you said softly. “But I was thinking more along the lines of what color my eyes are, or how you noticed I always play with my jewelry when I’m thinking.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words, clearly not catching on to the flirtatious undertone. “Oh, well, your eyes are a very nice shade of y/e/c,” he said earnestly. “And I did notice that you play with your jewelry sometimes when you’re concentrating. It’s a subconscious gesture, probably something you do without realizing it.”

You bit back a laugh, charmed by his obliviousness. “You really are good, Doctor Reid,” you teased lightly. “But I was just messing with you. I didn’t expect you to take me so seriously.”

Spencer looked over at you, a bit of confusion in his expression, though it quickly gave way to a small, sheepish smile. “Oh… I guess I missed that,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing way he did when he was flustered.

You grinned, feeling a strange sense of affection for his sincerity. “It’s okay, Spencer. It just means you’re genuine—and I like that.”

As the car pulled into the precinct parking lot, the playful exchange left both of you feeling a little lighter. Spencer might have missed the flirtation, but in the process, you’d managed to break down some of the walls between you, leaving the door open for more conversations, more connections, and maybe, just maybe, something more down the line.

—

Penelope had extended one of her famously warm invitations to the entire team, promising a night of lively conversation, good food, and the kind of camaraderie that only the BAU could understand. Her apartment, as always, was a bright and eclectic haven, filled with quirky decorations, cozy seating areas, and the unmistakable aroma of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

As the evening wore on, the sound of laughter and animated chatter filled the room. Drinks were poured, stories were shared, and the general atmosphere was one of relaxation and enjoyment. Penelope, ever the gracious host, moved through the crowd like a butterfly, making sure everyone was comfortable and having a good time.

You found yourself in the middle of a conversation with JJ and Emily, the three of you discussing everything from recent cases to more lighthearted topics. Spencer, meanwhile, was across the room, engaged in a deep discussion with Hotch and Rossi. Yet, despite the separate conversations, you couldn’t help but notice how often your gaze drifted toward him—and how, more than once, you caught him glancing back at you.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed. As the evening continued, you began to pick up on a subtle undercurrent among the team, a shared look or knowing smile exchanged between your colleagues whenever you and Spencer were in close proximity. It was as if everyone had collectively decided that tonight was the night to push the two of you a little closer together.

“Hey, Y/N,” Emily said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief as she casually steered you toward the couch where Spencer had just sat down. “Why don’t you grab a seat? Looks like there’s plenty of room.”

You shot her a playful glare, fully aware of what she was doing, but you didn’t resist. With a small smile, you took the spot next to Spencer, who glanced up at you with a shy, yet pleased expression.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him, settling into the seat and feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice soft but with a touch of warmth that made you feel at ease. The two of you exchanged a small smile, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

Before you could say anything more, Morgan appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face as he handed both you and Spencer a drink. “There you go, pretty boy, Y/N. You two look like you could use a refill,” he said, his tone far too innocent to be sincere.

You accepted the drink with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, Morgan,” you replied, your tone matching his in playful suspicion. You knew exactly what he was up to, but you decided to play along, taking a sip of your drink as you glanced at Spencer.

Spencer, for his part, seemed slightly oblivious to the team’s not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts, though there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he took his drink from Morgan. “Thanks, Derek,” he mumbled, clearly trying to avoid the knowing look in Morgan’s eyes.

The team's subtle matchmaking efforts became more apparent, each of them playing their part with a touch of mischief. Rossi, always one for a good story, managed to draw you into a conversation about a particularly tricky case the team had solved a few years back.

“So, Y/N,” Rossi began, a twinkle in his eye, “have you ever encountered a case where the suspect used historical ciphers to communicate with their victims?”

You tilted your head, intrigued but knowing exactly where this was going. “No, I have not. Why do you ask?”

Rossi leaned back, gesturing towards Spencer with a grin. “Because our very own Dr. Reid is an expert in ciphers, and I’d bet he could tell you all about the time he cracked one in record time.”

Spencer, who had been quietly listening, perked up at the mention of his expertise. “Oh, well, it wasn’t exactly record time,” he said modestly, but Rossi’s encouragement had already drawn him in. “But it was a fascinating case. The unsub used a modified version of the Zodiac cipher, which was particularly challenging because—”

As Spencer launched into a detailed explanation, you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Rossi had managed to pull you both into the conversation. The discussion flowed naturally from there, and you found yourself genuinely interested in Spencer’s insights, occasionally offering your own thoughts, which Spencer seemed to appreciate.

Not long after, Penelope gathered everyone together for a game she had prepared. “Alright, everyone, time for a little fun! We’re playing ‘Celebrity!’” she announced, holding up a bowl filled with slips of paper. “And wouldn’t you know it, Y/N, you and Spencer are on the same team!”

You caught Penelope’s wink as she handed you the bowl, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What are the odds?” you joked, taking your seat next to Spencer.

Spencer looked a little surprised but quickly smiled, clearly pleased by the arrangement. “I guess we’ll have to work together,” he said, his tone light.

Throughout the game, the team’s delight in pairing the two of you together was obvious, with Emily and Morgan offering exaggerated praise whenever you and Spencer managed to score points. “Great teamwork, you two!” Emily called out with a grin. “It’s like you can read each other’s minds!”

Spencer flushed slightly at the comment, but he seemed to enjoy the playful camaraderie, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why everyone was making such a big deal out of it.

Later, even Hotch joined in on the subtle matchmaking, calling both you and Spencer into the kitchen to help with an entirely unnecessary task. “I need a hand in here,” Hotch said, waving you both over. “This cake isn’t going to cut itself.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the already-cut cake sitting on the counter, but you went along with it, smiling as you grabbed a knife. “Looks like we’ve been drafted,” you quipped.

Spencer smiled awkwardly but followed your lead, picking up a plate. “Yeah, it’s… good to be useful,” he said, his tone a little unsure but genuine.

The two of you worked side by side, the conversation light and easy. You couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it felt to be around him, even in the most mundane tasks. And as you laughed together over something trivial, you caught Hotch’s subtle nod of approval from the corner of your eye.

As the party began to wind down and people started to gather their things to leave, you and Spencer found yourselves standing near the door, alone for the first time that evening. The energy of the night had brought you closer, and the playful encouragement from the team had only served to make that connection feel more natural.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to Spencer.

He looked at you with a gentle smile, his nervousness from earlier in the night long gone. “I did too,” he replied, his tone sincere. “It was nice… spending time with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest at his words. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?” you teased lightly, echoing Emily’s earlier comment.

Spencer’s smile widened just a little, though he still seemed a bit oblivious to the underlying meaning. “Yeah, I think we do,” he agreed, his eyes meeting yours in a way that felt significant.

There was a brief moment of silence between you, comfortable and filled with possibility. The evening had left you with a sense of warmth, the connection between you and Spencer deepening in ways that felt both unexpected and natural. “Goodnight, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice lingering with a hint of something more, your eyes meeting his in a way that made the simple farewell feel like it carried more weight.

Spencer hesitated for a second, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he spoke. “Can I, um, can I drive you home?” he asked, his tone a little shy but hopeful, as if he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay to ask.

You blinked in surprise, then remembered that you had seen him with a drink earlier in the evening. “You were drinking too, Spencer,” you pointed out gently, not wanting to put him in an uncomfortable position.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small smile as he shook his head. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he explained, his voice calm and reassuring. “They were nonalcoholic.”

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, warmth spreading through you at his thoughtfulness. “Oh, well in that case,” you said, your voice softening as you looked at him, “I’d really like that.”

His eyes brightened at your response, and he gave a small, almost relieved nod. “Great,” he said, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by a quiet confidence. “Let me just grab my keys.”

As you waited for him, you couldn’t help but feel that this simple offer—this small, thoughtful gesture—was a sign of something more, something that might grow between you. And as the two of you walked out together, the night air cool against your skin, you found yourself looking forward to the drive, and to whatever might come next.

—

While guests began to filter out of Penelope's apartment, Hotch and Rossi found themselves lingering in the cozy living room, the buzz of the evening winding down. The two men exchanged a glance as they noticed you and Spencer leaving together, Spencer opening the car door for you with his usual quiet charm.

Rossi chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink as he watched the scene unfold. “You know, Aaron,” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I think those two might just be good for each other.”

Hotch followed Rossi’s gaze a small, rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, his tone thoughtful. “They would make a nice pair.”

Rossi nodded, setting his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Spencer needs someone like Y/N—someone patient, who sees the world a little differently, but isn’t afraid to challenge him.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, considering Rossi’s words. “And anyone could use someone like Spencer,” he added.

Rossi smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s not often you see something like that—a connection that just feels… natural.”

Hotch chuckled softly, a sound that was more a breath than a laugh. “It’s about time Spencer found someone who really gets him.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “And maybe someone who can keep up with that brain of his.”

Hotch’s smile grew a little wider at that. “She’s got her work cut out for her, then.”

They shared a knowing look, they’d both be quietly rooting for you and Spencer.

—

As Spencer opened the car door for you, you slid into the passenger seat with a smile, appreciating the small but considerate gesture. He walked around to the driver’s side and settled in, adjusting the mirrors and checking the controls with his usual meticulousness. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space as he started the car, and soon enough, you were on the road, the city lights passing by in a soft blur.

For a few moments, the two of you were content with the silence, letting the calm of the evening settle over you. But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you turned slightly in your seat to look at Spencer, your gaze soft but inquisitive.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light, “you don’t drink alcohol at all? Or just not tonight?”

Spencer glanced over at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all, actually,” he admitted. “I’ve never really liked the way it makes me feel. Plus, it’s kind of a personal choice—helps me stay sharp, especially with work.”

You nodded, finding that very much in line with what you’d learned about him so far. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice warm. “I can see how that would be important for you. You always seem so… focused.”

Spencer chuckled softly, a touch of bashfulness in his tone. “I try to be,” he said. “But it’s not always easy. My mind tends to wander a lot.”

You smiled at that, sensing an opportunity to tease him just a little. “Wander? You? I would’ve never guessed,” you said with playful exaggeration, giving him a sideways glance.

He laughed, the sound quiet but genuine. “Yeah, well, it happens more often than you’d think. Especially when I’m trying to solve a problem or figure something out. My brain just… runs in all these different directions.”

“I’d love to see that in action,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. When you realized how it might sound, you quickly added, “I mean, it must be fascinating to see how your mind works.”

Spencer glanced at you again, this time with a slightly more serious expression, though there was still a hint of that shy smile. “I guess I’ve just always been wired that way. It’s part of why I love what I do. But it can be… isolating sometimes, you know? People don’t always get it.”

You nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. “Yeah, I can relate to that,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I think a lot of us in this line of work feel that way at times. It’s hard for people outside of it to really understand what we go through, what we see.”

There was a moment of shared silence, both of you reflecting on what you’d said. Then, wanting to lighten the mood a bit, you turned the conversation back to something a little more playful.

“So, what do you do for fun, Spencer? When you’re not solving crimes and noticing everything that no one else does?” you asked with a teasing lilt to your voice.

Spencer seemed to relax a bit more, the serious tone easing as he thought about your question. “Well,” he began, “I like to read, obviously. I’m a bit of a collector when it comes to rare books. And, um, I also enjoy magic tricks.”

“Magic tricks?” you repeated, intrigued and a little surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

Spencer smiled, the warmth in his expression growing. “Yeah, I picked it up as a kid. It’s something that stuck with me. I guess I like the challenge of it—figuring out how to manipulate perception, how to create something that seems impossible.”

You leaned in a little, genuinely fascinated. “That’s actually really cool. You’ll have to show me a trick sometime.”

He glanced at you, a spark of excitement in his eyes at the idea. “I’d like that,” he said simply.

As the conversation continued, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, exchanging stories and little details about your lives. You learned that Spencer had an insatiable curiosity for nearly everything, and that he was just as eager to hear about your interests and experiences. There were moments of gentle teasing, of light laughter, and as the night wore on, it felt as though the distance between you was closing, replaced by a budding connection that was both comfortable and exciting.

By the time Spencer pulled up in front of your place, you felt like you’d gotten to know him in a way that few probably had—a glimpse beneath the layers of the brilliant, sometimes awkward genius to the kind, thoughtful person underneath.

“Thank you for the ride, Spencer,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to face him. “And for the conversation. I really enjoyed tonight.”

Spencer’s smile was warm, and this time, there was a hint of confidence in it. “I did too,” he replied, his voice soft. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d like that,” you said, letting the sincerity of your words hang in the air for a moment.

With one last smile, you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing your skin as you walked to your door. Glancing back, you caught Spencer’s eyes; he gave a shy wave before driving off without hesitation. As you unlocked your door, it struck you—you’d never met a man who didn’t try to make a move in such a moment. 

It was refreshing, and his sincerity left you smiling. There was something deeply endearing about how content he seemed just to share your company. As you settled in for the night, a warm feeling lingered.

—

Monday morning arrived with the usual hum of activity in the bullpen, but there was a new kind of energy in the air—one that had you exchanging sweet, shy glances with Spencer across the room. Every time your eyes met, it was like a quiet acknowledgment of the evening you had shared, a soft connection that lingered between you.

As you settled into your desk, organizing your files and preparing for the day ahead, you were pleasantly surprised when Spencer walked by, gently placing a mug of coffee on your desk. The familiar aroma wafted up, and you immediately recognized it as your favorite blend, made just the way you liked it.

“Spencer… thank you,” you said softly, picking up the mug and taking a tentative sip. It was perfect, just as you expected. You looked up at him, curiosity tinged with warmth in your eyes. “How did you know?”

Spencer’s lips curled into a small, almost bashful smile, his hands fidgeting slightly. “I pay attention,” he replied simply, his voice just above a whisper, as if the words held more meaning than they seemed.

Your heart fluttered at his response, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. There was something incredibly endearing about how Spencer had noticed something so small, yet so personal. It wasn’t just the coffee—it was the care and thoughtfulness behind the gesture that made your heart skip a beat.

Smitten might have been an understatement for how you felt in that moment. You held his gaze for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you growing stronger with each passing second.

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice soft and full of appreciation.

Spencer gave a quick, shy nod before retreating to his desk, his own heart racing from the brief but meaningful exchange. 

—

Wednesday morning, you made your way to Spencer’s desk. In your hand, you held a donut topped with colorful sprinkles, a small token of your growing affection.

Reaching Spencer’s desk, you gently placed the donut in front of him, your hand brushing against his arm ever so slightly. The brief contact sent a spark through you, a tiny thrill that lingered as you stepped back.

Spencer looked up, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into a smile. “Y/N? Thank you,” he said, his voice tinged with both gratitude and a hint of that shyness you found so endearing.

You smiled back, your eyes meeting his. “A sweet treat for a sweet man,” you replied, your tone light yet full of sincerity.

For a moment, Spencer just stared at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he took in your words. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like that, especially not from someone who meant as much to him as you were beginning to.

“Thank you,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were trying to savor the moment.

You gave him a soft smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It was such a small gesture, but the way he looked at you made it feel like so much more. As you walked back to your desk, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, catching him as he carefully picked up the donut, a faint smile playing on his lips.

—

“I think I’m going to ask her on a date,” Spencer said, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and nervousness as he spoke to Penelope in the breakroom.

“Y/N?” Penelope’s eyes lit up with excitement, a grin spreading across her face. She had been hoping for this moment for a while now.

Spencer paused for a moment, then, with a rare touch of humor, he replied, “No, Emily.”

Penelope blinked, caught off guard by his response, before quickly catching on to his teasing. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him, placing a hand on her hip. “I don’t think that would go over well, my love.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease with the banter. “Y/N or Emily?” he asked, his tone just as playful, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think Y/N or Emily would take well to you asking Emily on a date,” she said, her voice softening. “But, Y/n would be over the moon if you asked her out, Spencer. Trust me.”

Spencer nodded, a bit more confidence building inside him as he imagined what it might be like to take that step. “Yeah,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Penelope. “I think you’re right.”

Penelope gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement for her friend. “Go get her, Reid,” she said gently, patting his arm. “You’ve got this.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling both the weight and the thrill of the decision he was about to make. “Thanks, Penelope,” he said, giving her a grateful look before heading back to his desk, his mind now focused on how he was going to ask you out.

—

You stood in front of the elevator, the thought of a relaxing Friday evening at home making you eager to get out of the office. Your couch was practically calling your name, promising comfort after a long week. Just as the elevator doors began to slide open, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

You turned with a smile, spotting Spencer hurrying toward you. “I’m not moving, Spencer,” you giggled, teasing him lightly. “I’m waiting for the elevator.”

“Right… right,” he stammered, laughing awkwardly as he reached you, his hand instinctively going to the back of his neck, a gesture you had come to find endearing. 

“What's up, weirdo?” you asked, still smiling as you watched him struggle to find his words.

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with determination and nervousness. “Will you go out with me?” he blurted out, the words tumbling out faster than he intended.

You didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Yes.”

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard by how quickly you responded. “I don’t want to make things awkward, but I love spending time with you and—wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, his genuine surprise making the moment even sweeter. “I said yes, Spencer,” you repeated, your voice warm and reassuring.

Spencer’s eyes widened, a mixture of relief and joy flooding his expression. “You did? I mean, you did!” he stammered, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wow, okay… this is great!”

The elevator doors opened just as he finished speaking, and you both stepped inside, the excitement of the moment bubbling between you. As the doors closed, Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him as the elevator began its descent.

Spencer glanced at you, his smile softening into something more tender. “Anywhere you want,” he said quietly.

—

The evening unfolded exactly as you had hoped, with one delightful twist. You and Spencer ended up on your couch, both of you dressed in comfortable pajamas, a warm pizza box resting on the coffee table in front of you. The aroma of melted cheese and spices filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Spencer was leaning back into the cushions, a slice of pizza in hand, his long legs stretched out comfortably. You were nestled beside him, your feet tucked under a soft blanket, feeling utterly content. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had been craving, only now it was even better with Spencer there beside you.

“This is nice,” Spencer said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as he took another bite of his pizza.

You glanced over at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “It really is,” you agreed, reaching for your own slice. “Exactly what I needed after this week.”

He looked at you, his eyes warm and a little shy, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. “I can’t believe this is what you wanted to do tonight,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “But I’m really glad it is.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “Spencer, this is perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted—good food, good company, and no pressure to do anything but relax.”

He smiled at that, clearly relieved and happy. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his voice gentle as he looked at you with that familiar, earnest gaze.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily between bites of pizza and sips of soda. You talked about everything and nothing—cases, hobbies, favorite books, and the little things that made each of you laugh. It felt natural, effortless, like this was where you both were meant to be.

Eventually, you found yourself leaning into Spencer’s side, your head resting on his shoulder as you both watched the TV, a movie playing softly in the background. He wrapped his arm around you, his touch light and careful, as if he were still marveling at how right this felt.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had wanted, with the added bonus of the guy you wanted right there with you. As you snuggled closer, a contented sigh escaped your lips.

This was perfect.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[chleem]

Work from home

Oneshot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: staying focused is impossible with drew’s ‘subtle’ distractions, especially when he’s determined to get your attention. 

Genre: established relationship, smut, fluff, light read

Warnings: cursing, sex (pussy eating), lowkey needy drew,

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Will you-“

You turn around, slapping the pen out of Drew’s hand. “Cut it out?”

Drew looks at you with his signature blank stare, as if his own annoyance is justified. 

The two of you haven’t seen each other in weeks, due to you and Drew’s busy schedules. His new movie’s coming out, and you have a very urgent report to write for your boss.

Now that you’re finally under the same roof as him, you can’t help but get annoyed at every distraction he causes. 

He came into the home office not even ten minutes, and he’s occupied himself by playing with the things on your desk. Flipping through your binders, messing with the AC, etc. You just deprived him of his last fidget toy. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, unapologetically. 

You roll your eyes, turning back to your laptop. You continue typing, ignoring the gloomy presence behind you. If he wasn’t so distracting, this report can be done in...an hour. 

Not even thirty seconds later; “hey, um, I need your help,” you hear him talking behind you, a weight put on the armrest to your right. 

You ignore it; knowing Drew just wanted to distract you. 

“Y/n?” His fingers drum against your armrest now, tapping impatiently, trying to get your attention. 

Once again, you stay focused, typing away at your report. 

“Babe.” 

You don’t miss the firm, almost commanding tone hinted in his nickname for you. 

“Yes?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, with your fingers still typing away. You watch as his eyes glance over at your fingers, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. 

“Stop that-“ his hand hover over yours before gently pressing them flat against the keyboard, halting your typing. Your raise an eyebrow at Drew, waiting for him to explain. “Stop with this whole- work thing.”

You pull your fingers out, crossing your arms as you laid back on your chair. He ignited a flare inside of you that you didn’t know, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Drew gently bites down on his lips, scratching the back of his head. His eyes plead to you, the blue in them sparkling, for some reason. “Spend time with me. I’m bored, and we’re home together.”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, but you quickly mask it, staring back at your laptop screen. “I’m working, Drew,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“You’re always working…” you hear him murmur, as your hands go back to the keyboard again. You brush his hands away, straightening your posture. 

The typing of your keyboard is the only thing filling the silence of the room, Drew’s presence close beside you. 

Drew’s a big guy, so subtle movements by him was all noticeable in the corner of your eye. He kneels beside you, his hand pulling your chair back. “Hey-“

You begin to protest, but he does the most unexpected thing. 

He brings himself between your legs, and he hugs your lower stomach. 

Woah. The warmth of him floods through you, making it hard to think straight. His arms fully wrap around your waist, nuzzling his face between your thighs.

He doesn’t move; just hugging your waist, kneeling on the ground. 

You clear your throat, flustered at the close proximity of him. “Drew?”

His blue eyes peek up at you, a sly glint in them. “Yeah?” His voice is soft, but you hear the teasing edge in it. What sends you over is the closeness of his face near your core; the damn thin material of your shorts. 

“What are you doing?” Was your voice always this hitched?

“Just hugging you,” Drew mumbles, his fingers rubbing soft circles around the bare skin that your crop-top showed. He sees the skepticism lingering on your features, and sends a small smirk along the way. “Can’t I?”

…This motherfucker. He’s trying to distract you! 

Fine. Two could play this game. 

With a deliberate shift, you ease back into your chair. “Of course you can,” you reply, “But if you’re done with the hugging, I’ve got work to do.”

Drew watches you for a beat, eyes flicking over your face. You feel him nuzzle his face back between your thighs, but you stay focused—typing, clicking, pretending to give him no more attention than his little distractions deserve.

His hand slips under your top, fingers coming in contact with your breasts. 

At the same time, he starts to plant kisses on your inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of your underwear. 

Fuck. You needed to stop him, because if he goes any further, no work will be done. Except for the lustful one that’s building in your stomach. 

Two could play this game? No; you yield in seconds because of how Drew plays. 

You run your hands through his scalp, feeling the soft strands of hair beneath your touch. A knowing smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you. “This isn’t a hug,” you manage to say, thumb rubbing the corner of his eye. 

He leans into your touch, “I’know.”

“Then stop it,” you say, the words feeling hollow, because you don’t want him to stop. Not really. 

“When you’re focused, nothing else really matters, right?” 

Drew fucking Starkey. 

He delivers a quick kiss to your wrist, before nuzzling his face back to where it was. You watch as his hands spreads your thighs further apart, fingers tugging on the waistband of your shorts. 

Shit. It’s working already. 

“No-“

“C’mon,” he teases, staring up at you with the familiar look of mischief. “Won’t even know I’m down here.”

You give him a knowing grin, “really need to get this done, Drew.”

“Hmm,” he pats your back, “ignore me like before, babe.”

“Y’know that’s impossible,” you mumble, hips rising just like he told you to.

His eyes stare into yours lustfully, fingers pulling down your shorts and underwear until they’re to your knees. “Just a taste…then I’ll leave you alone.”

He’s never going to leave you alone. 

He averts his attention to the now throbbing pussy of yours, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs. “Hey, look,” a grin appears on his lips, “you don’t want me to leave.”

You throw your head back against the chair, partly embarrassed at his mention of the wetness that has pooled since he ‘hugged’ you. Teasing prick. 

His soft chuckle echos through the room, before you feel the warmth of his tongue against your folds. 

You gasp out of pleasure and surprise; he wastes no time in eating you, fully making out with your folds. “Fuck,” you curse, running your hands through his scalp. 

He grunts against you, one hand raising your leg over his shoulder, to get him deeper between you. His other hand reaches under your top, and he starts kneading your breasts. 

“Drew…” you shamelessly moan out his name, melting under his touch; he knew how to pleasure you, to make you feel good. Hearing your moans, Drew picks up the pace, his licks getting sloppier, losing any sense of rhythm. 

A slow curve of your spine, you let the sensation roll through you. His hand around your breasts play with your hardened nipples, rubbing and tugging on them. The grip your thigh silently demands you stay still as he eats you out. 

The sounds of his wet tongue against you fills the room, along with moans and grunts of pleasure. 

You feel your orgasm building, begging to released. “Shit,” you manage to say, the air being knocked out of you. “I’m, close.”

“Mhm,” he hums, hot breath hitting your clit. “Cum in my mouth, baby.”

His words along with the playing of your nipples do it; the knot in your stomach undone. He slows down on his tongue, licking it up and swallowing. Fuck. 

For a moment, the two of you take seconds just stare into each other’s eyes, heavy breaths mixing together. 

Then, the moment is over, because Drew lets go of your leg, breasts, the whole warmth of him disappearing. 

You stare at him confused as he stands up again, wondering if something shifted. 

You also don’t miss the evident boner in his pants. 

He cocks his head to the side, “back to work, huh?” The mocking in his voice stings in your head, as he walks off, out your office. 

Motherfucker. You sit there, still reeling from the orgasm. You don’t even want - can’t to do work anymore. Now? You just want Drew. Specifically what’s growing in his pants. 

Maybe this report can wait a bit longer? …you hate how badly you want him right now, how he got you right where he wants you to be. 

“Drew!” You yell after him, getting up and tugging your underwear and shorts to the floor. 

You walk out your home office, to the shared bedroom, and see Drew getting ready to hop in bed. 

He looks you up and down, eyes lingering longer at your naked lower half. Your eyes find them glued to his boner too, “maybe I can have a five minute break.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and before you can even think, you’re jumping into his arms. His strong hands catches you effortlessly, pulling you closer as you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, the heat of his body enveloping you.

His arms tighten around you, holding you steady as you lean in, lips finding his. You kiss him, with eagerness, lust, everything. He kisses you back with the same energy, lying you down on the bed. 

He hovers over you, his weight just enough to make your heart race, your hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

But Drew pulls away, his blue eyes locking with yours, a playful edge in them. “This could take longer than five,” he says, his voice low, teasing, and full of promise.

“Hmm,” you mindlessly hum, the idea of work slipping away. 

He was right; it ended up being not one, but three rounds tangled up in sheets, and the report long forgotten. 

It was also a lesson to yourself; to stop procrastinating, and never work with Drew around. 

-------------------------------

word count: 1.7k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hoped you enjoyed this! got this idea from watching that scene from Through my Window (iykyk). and ik, its a very sloppy writing so ignore any mistakes T_T also, isnt this pic of him just delicious? ugh, to be his gf...anyways, hope you liked this!

elevator | other

[eclipsaria]

Took You Long Enough

Summary // In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.

Pairing:

CEO! Seungcheol x reader

Warnings:

Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT members

W/C:

12 671

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

@nerdycheol , you are the one that suggested the watch brand and Hermés cologne brand🤣 and you as a cheol's wife, i take anything you said🫡

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

The office buzzed to life every morning by 8:00 a.m. A polished world of swift elevator dings, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the faint scent of espresso lingering near the breakroom. Floors were lined with pristine glass partitions, and employees moved with a subtle urgency, well aware of the silent clock that ticked behind every deadline.

On the top floor, behind a sleek black door embossed with silver letters, was the corner office of Choi Seungcheol, the man who built the company from the ground up. He wasn’t just the CEO, he was the presence. Charismatic, sharp, and composed, Seungcheol was known for walking into a room and changing its air pressure with just a glance. Rumor had it that he could read a financial report faster than most people could skim a menu, and no one ever left a meeting with him without either a promotion, a plan, or a panic attack.

But beneath his tailored suits and impenetrable gaze was a man with a past no one dared to ask about, and a reputation he carried like armor.

Today, as sunlight spilled through the towering windows of his office, Seungcheol stood facing the city skyline, coffee in hand, unaware that the day ahead would shift everything he thought he had under control.

At just 30 years old, Choi Seungcheol had already climbed the summit most people only dreamed of. It was hard to believe he started as a low-level assistant at the age of 20. No connections, no shortcuts, just a relentless work ethic and a vision that burned behind his sharp eyes. He wasn’t born into wealth, nor did he inherit the company. Every step upward was carved with grit and sleepless nights.

Now serving his second year as CEO, there wasn’t a single person in the company who questioned his leadership. Titles didn't need to be old to command respect, not when every project under his lead launched with flawless execution, crushing expectations and setting new industry standards. His name echoed in boardrooms across the city as a young prodigy, the kind of leader who didn't just manage—but rewrote—the playbook.

What made him even more admired, or perhaps feared, was how calm he remained in the face of chaos. Seungcheol didn’t just make decisions; he made the right ones and fast. He listened more than he spoke, observed more than he intervened, and when he did speak, the room listened.

He turned back from the window now, placing his coffee on the desk as his assistant knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” he said coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates were real, love was less of a question and more of a certainty. The rule was simple. When you meet your soulmate, just one look into their eyes, and you’ll hear wedding bells. Not a metaphor—actual bells. Ringing in your ears like a celebration only you two could hear. After that, everything seemed to fall into place, like the universe giving you a neatly wrapped ending: soulmates meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Well… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his closest circle, were either happily married, halfway through wedding plans, or sending him pictures of their toddlers with captions like “Uncle Cheol, when’s your turn?” The world was moving fast, and for someone like him, who always caught up quickly, this was the one race he couldn’t outrun.

He wasn’t single because he hated love. He just didn’t want to gamble with emotions. Exes and soulmates don’t mix well. What if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t the one? What if he broke someone’s heart only to meet his true soulmate later, and it all came crumbling down? So he stayed away from flings, from love, from anything that could mess with the balance of his life.

Still, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of anxiety. He wasn’t worried about getting married late, he was worried about his parents.

At 27, his mother had set him up on a blind date with someone’s daughter, he showed up out of respect, but came home early with a headache.

At 28, his father mailed out carefully written profiles of Seungcheol to other families with daughters, practically advertising him like some limited-edition luxury product.

By 29, they dropped all pretense and started pushing for an arranged marriage. “Just meet her, see if your eyes ring,” they said. He didn’t.

Now at 30, Seungcheol didn’t know what plan his parents were cooking up, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

But what could he do? Nothing. And so, as always, he chose the routine that never disappointed him: Wake up. Go to the office. Handle meetings. Review reports. Sign approvals. Go home. Sleep.

It was safe. Predictable and efficient.

It was just another day at work. The usual hum of morning emails and the faint buzz of distant phones filled the air, when Seungcheol’s secretary knocked once before entering, arms full with neatly stacked document files.

She placed them on his desk without a word at first, as he flipped through the last few pages of a report. But then, came a rare request.

“Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has extended an invitation. It’s a masquerade party,” she said, tone light but respectful. “Held by his wife. They’re hoping for your attendance.”

The name made Seungcheol look up, pausing mid-page. “…Mr. Shin?”

She nodded. “Yes. He personally requested your presence.”

Choi Seungcheol blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. Mr. Shin wasn’t just anyone, he was a veteran in the business world, one of the few people Seungcheol looked up to when he first entered the corporate jungle at twenty. Sharp, poised, but known for his warm charisma, Mr. Shin had once told Seungcheol over lunch: “Success is important, but relationships will carry you further than numbers ever will.”

Unfortunately, Seungcheol never quite grasped the latter.

He was never a party type. In his mind, parties disrupted efficiency. Hours wasted in polite conversation, standing under chandeliers, sipping drinks he didn’t care for. He didn’t hate people, he just… preferred structure.

But this invitation wasn’t something he could brush off. Not when it came from Mr. Shin. Refusing could send the wrong message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife was out of the question.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“…Tell them I’ll attend,” he said finally, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any clashes, push them back. And set a time for shopping. Something formal. Masked.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied with a slight smile, already tapping notes into her tablet as she turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind her, and then silence returned. Seungcheol sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the papers in front of him before removing his glasses and slowly pinching the bridge of his nose. A heavy sigh followed.

“A masquerade party, huh…” he muttered.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The night of the masquerade arrived with a velvet sky draped in soft stars, the city skyline glowing beneath it like scattered jewels. Seungcheol’s black car pulled up to the venue. An opulent estate on the outskirts of the city owned by the Shin family, known for hosting only the most exclusive circles.

From the very first step inside, the masquerade felt like stepping into another world.

The entrance hall was grand. High arched ceilings adorned with delicate gold filigree, with glittering chandeliers casting warm light across the polished marble floors. Elegant floral arrangements stood tall in glass vases, the soft scent of fresh orchids and lilies lingering in the air. Staff in crisp uniforms glided past with trays of champagne and wine, offering delicate glasses that sparkled like the guests themselves.

And the guests. Each one hidden behind ornate masks, dressed in tailored suits and flowing gowns, laughter muffled by polite conversation and the occasional clink of crystal. The entire ballroom shimmered with motion and elegance, the air alive with quiet prestige.

At the far end of the room, an orchestra played a soft, haunting melody. A waltz that wound through the evening like silk. Violins harmonized with cellos as couples swayed gently across the dance floor, their silhouettes graceful under golden lights. The music didn’t demand attention; it wove through the space, letting elegance speak for itself.

Seungcheol stood at the entrance for a moment longer, absorbing the scene. Dressed in a deep charcoal tuxedo, his mask was sleek, made of brushed silver, perfectly fitted and simple. Just like him.

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit with quiet precision and took a slow breath.

Seungcheol moved through the grand hall with quiet grace, the soft shuffle of his polished shoes drowned by the music and conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure near the center of the ballroom. Mr. Shin, dressed in a regal navy suit, silver embroidery trimming the collar of his jacket. Standing beside him, equally elegant, was Mrs. Shin, her mask adorned with pearls that shimmered with every turn of her head.

With his posture poised and his mask adjusted, Seungcheol approached them and gave a respectful bow.

“Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin,” he greeted formally, voice steady. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

Mr. Shin turned, a pleased smile stretching under his mask. “Seungcheol! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show. I’m glad you came.”

Mrs. Shin offered a soft nod, “You look dashing tonight, dear. As always.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, not when it comes from the both of you,” he said with a light smile, still formal in tone. “The venue is breathtaking.”

They shared a few pleasantries, light jokes exchanged beneath crystal chandeliers. Seungcheol tried his best to blend into the moment, smiling at the passing comments, laughing politely, sipping wine when handed a glass, but the stiffness in his shoulders never quite faded.

And then, as expected, his conversation naturally veered back to what he knew best.

“Actually, just before coming here, we finalized the restructuring proposal for the third branch’s distribution-”

He stopped himself, but the Shin couple only smiled knowingly.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head with a gentle chuckle, “Oh, darling. You can talk about work all you like if it helps you feel at home. No masks are needed for that.”

Her words, though playful, pierced the tension in him like a warm knife through ice. Seungcheol let out a soft exhale, barely realizing he had been holding his breath.

And so, he spoke. About the company. About numbers. About staff growth. About challenges and solutions.

And strangely enough, the conversation didn’t feel out of place. Mr. Shin offered insights, Mrs. Shin listened intently, nodding with that gentle, matronly glow she always carried. The air grew lighter around them, the laughter more genuine, the pressure in Seungcheol’s chest slowly easing.

Then, Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder with a proud smile.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. “My daughter just returned home after her studies abroad. I think the two of you will get along.”

Seungcheol turned just in time to see her approach.

You wore a pale lavender gown, subtle and elegant, flowing like morning mist. Your mask was delicate, silver trimmed with lace, soft feathers curling at the edges. You moved with the grace of someone raised in soft-spoken confidence, eyes quietly scanning the room until they landed on him.

The moment your eyes met, everything fell silent, except for the sound of wedding bells. Clear and unmistakable. Ringing only in your ears, like the universe had struck a chord, and fate had written the first line of a new story.

Both stood still for a moment too long, unsure whether to speak or breathe. And in the corner of his eye, Seungcheol saw Mrs. Shin’s knowing smile.

The bells still echoed faintly in Seungcheol’s ears, even as the rest of the ballroom returned to its natural soundscape. Soft music, low chatter, the clinking of glasses.

But for Seungcheol, the world had slowed.

His soulmate. He had finally found you. He should have felt relief, even joy. This was the moment most people spent their lives yearning for. The ache he had carried silently for years, the lingering worry behind every family dinner and silent commute, had finally found an answer.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t going to make it easy.

You are twenty. Young, bright-eyed, and still new to the world. Ten years younger. And worse, you are Mr. Shin’s daughter, the Mr. Shin he had admired for over a decade, the very man who shaped the path Seungcheol now walked. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel allowed.

This couldn’t be happening… could it?

Just as he was grounding himself, still locking eyes with the girl whose existence had just turned his world upside down, Mr. Shin’s voice cut in again, calm and casual.

He reached out, gently patting his daughter’s head as he looked at you with a father’s pride.

“I’ve been preparing for retirement,” he said, almost wistfully, “but before I can step back, I need to make sure she’s ready for what comes next.”

Seungcheol turned to him slowly, blinking.

“I need someone to teach her how to face the working world. Someone sharp, experienced… someone I trust more than anyone else in this industry.”

He turned fully to Seungcheol now, smile warm, eyes firm.

“So before I retire, Seungcheol… can I pass her to you? For mentorship, or practical training. Nothing prepares someone better than real experience.”

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Seungcheol’s grip on his champagne glass tightened slightly, his composed expression slipping just barely for a breath of a second.

Not only had he just discovered his soulmate, he was also being asked on the same night to personally guide you into the working world, into the very fire he had spent ten years learning to survive.

And you would be close every day. His soulmate. His senior’s daughter. His future trainee. His knees almost gave out, but he smiled faintly and nodded, because what else could he do?

“…Of course, sir,” he said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. “I’d be honored.”

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. and Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all.

You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

“So… I guess we heard it too,” you said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah. We did.”

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” he said, dipping his head politely. “But I assume you already knew that.”

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. “And I’m Shin Y/N.” You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on—guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves—but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still. Electric.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “Tonight, or… you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You mean you didn’t expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?”

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you teased. “But it’s alright. I didn’t expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we’re even.”

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior’s daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

“If this gets overwhelming,” he said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, “just say so. I won’t rush into anything. I know this is… a lot.”

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. “Why do you sound like you’re the one overwhelmed?”

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

“…Because I’ve spent years building a life I could control,” he said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. “Then maybe I’m here to teach you how to let go. Just a little.”

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed… and then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

“…I think you might be,” he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. “Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir.” And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi.”

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn’t losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. “You may begin today.”

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time. “You may return to your tasks,” he told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you.

The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full.

You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

“I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

“…Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

“Take out a pen and a notebook,” he said briskly, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to be the next CEO of your father’s company, you’ll need to start by remembering a few things.”

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

“Rule number one,” he continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. “No one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name.”

You nodded, scribbling it down.

“Rule two,” he said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. “Always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, “That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi.”

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rule three,” he said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. “Stop charming your mentor. It’s distracting.”

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface.

He kept his instructions sharp, his tone professional, walking you through key departments, introducing the core team, and pointing out what made his company function like a well-oiled machine. To any outsider, it looked like another day of excellence from the CEO.

But the staff, sharp-eyed and always quietly observant, noticed something was off. It wasn’t something loud. There were no smiles stretched too far, no extravagant gestures. It was the way he stood a little too close.

The way his voice dropped just slightly whenever he spoke to you. The way he’d glance at you longer than he intended when you weren’t looking. And above all, the strange, rare gentleness in his expression when he watched you scribble notes or tilt your head in concentration.

To them, he was different today.

Seungcheol didn’t think so. He was just… doing his job. Guiding you, as Mr. Shin had asked, offering knowledge and sharing insight. So why did standing next to you feel like the only part of his day that wasn’t suffocating?

Every time your shoulder brushed his as you walked beside him, his chest felt lighter, like the years of pressure he’d buried beneath routine and deadlines were slowly peeling away.

He blamed it on the soulmate bond. That had to be it.

Still, it didn’t explain how you made silence feel so comforting. Even when neither of you were talking, your presence carried a calm aura—quiet but grounding.

And for someone like Seungcheol, a man who lived and breathed pressure, your calm was unfamiliar… and unsettling.

Not in a bad way, but in a foreign, “how-do-I-function-while-feeling-peace” kind of way.

He was in the middle of explaining their operations team structure when he noticed you looking up at him with that same unwavering gaze. Focused, soft, and admiring, as if he wasn’t just your mentor, but someone you deeply trusted already.

That was when he blanked out. He literally forgot the point he was going to make.

“-and that department handles… uh…” His brows furrowed, staring at the floor plan pinned on the wall like it had betrayed him. “The, um…”

You tilted your head. “The logistics team?”

He cleared his throat, nodding once. “Right. Logistics.”

His voice returned to its usual pace, but internally, panic echoed like an alarm.

Thankfully, a familiar knock on the glass broke the moment. His secretary peeked in again.

“Sir, your meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

A lifeline.

He straightened quickly. “Right. Thank you.”

He turned to you, voice brisk but not cold. “I’ll need to prepare. My secretary will guide you around the rest of the office.”

You nodded politely. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

And just like that, he walked away, maybe a little too quickly, and stepped into his office, letting the door close behind him.

Only when the lock clicked into place did he exhale. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against his desk for a second, glaring at nothing in particular before muttering under his breath: “…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol.”

He scowled at his own reflection in the black monitor, then sat down and opened the meeting files, anything to distract himself from the echo of your smile in his mind.

The meeting room was sleek and quiet, filled with department heads and key project managers all seated in neat rows around the long conference table. On the wall, the quarterly projections were being presented by one of the finance leads: charts, graphs, bullet points ticking forward one by one.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol looked the same as always. Sharp suit, steady gaze, and the calm posture as he sat at the head of the table.

But his fingers betrayed him.

They tapped quietly against the table’s surface, then began twirling his pen between them. An unconscious habit. Over and over, the silver pen spun in rhythm, not once slipping, not once faltering. Precision, yes, but not focus.

His eyes stayed forward, directed at the slides, but his mind wasn’t in the room.

It was still in the hallway. Back where you walked beside him, soft footsteps echoing alongside his. It was stuck on the memory of the way you tilted your head, smiling gently. The way your voice sounded when you said, “I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat picked up again.

He subtly loosened the top button of his collar with one hand, hoping no one noticed. A deep breath filled his lungs, but did nothing to cool the sudden warmth behind his ears.

Get a grip, Seungcheol.

One of the department leads directed a question toward him. He caught it, answered professionally and concisely. The pause before he spoke was half a second too long, but not enough to cause alarm.

His pen spun again, even faster now, almost mechanical.

Why was this happening?

He had handled crises, led multi-million-dollar negotiations, turned failing branches into flagship models. He had faced rooms full of foreign investors and government officials. But now, here he was, fidgeting with a pen like some college intern, thinking about a girl with calm eyes and a presence that made his carefully structured world feel… quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. And Seungcheol didn’t know if that was comforting—or terrifying.

Someone called out his name again, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes?” he responded, blinking back into the present.

All eyes turned to him, waiting. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “I agree with the previous point. Let’s move forward with scenario B, but add a contingency plan for client-side delays. I’ll review the proposed schedule by Friday.”

Everyone nodded. The meeting continued.

But even as the presentation resumed, Seungcheol’s hand never stopped spinning the pen. And under the table, where no one could see, his leg bounced just slightly.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling, just barely.

The meeting ended without incident, at least from an outside perspective. Everyone filed out of the room with their notes and laptops, chatting quietly, discussing next steps. Seungcheol stayed seated for a few seconds longer than usual, pretending to review the printed schedule, though his eyes barely read the lines.

When he finally stood, he adjusted his jacket, gave his usual nod to his assistant, and made his way back to his office.

The walk down the hallway was normal. The familiar click of his shoes on polished floors. A few passing greetings from staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he opened his office door. And you were there, seated on the leather guest chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, notebook in hand. You looked up immediately as the door opened, offering him that same disarming smile, the one that had singlehandedly ruined his focus for the past two hours.

“Oh,” you said softly, “welcome back, Mr. Choi.”

His steps faltered, but only for a second. He walked inside with his usual calm, closing the door behind him. “Did my secretary bring you back here?”

“She did,” you replied, standing up as a gesture of respect. “I didn’t want to wander around too long without you.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at that sentence.

Without me, huh?

He made his way around the desk, taking his seat while pretending not to notice the way your presence shifted the air in the room. He placed his notes down, but didn’t look at them.

You stood there quietly, notebook still in hand, waiting—always respectful, always composed. He hated how much he liked that.

“Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, stepping forward again, calm and graceful. “Yes. Everyone was kind. But…”

You paused for a beat, then gave a teasing tilt of your head. “It’s a little boring without you.”

His pen rolled slightly across the desk from how fast his fingers froze.

You quickly added, “I meant that you explain things better. That’s all.”

“…Right,” he replied, clearing his throat, gaze darting briefly to the side before grounding himself again. “Let’s resume where we left off then. Sit down.”

You obeyed, smiling faintly as you opened your notebook again. Seungcheol forced himself to focus—not on you, not on your expression, not on the soft perfume that somehow lingered between the pages of your notes—but on his words. Yet, as he began speaking again about corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning, his voice betrayed him. It was softer now, gentler.

He wasn’t sure when that started happening. He only knew it never sounded like that before you arrived.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting a golden hue across the city buildings outside his office window. The office had begun to empty, lights switching off one by one as employees finished their tasks and bid each other goodnight.

Seungcheol was still at his desk, organizing a few final documents, when your voice cut through the stillness.

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, standing by the doorway, bag slung over your shoulder. “I think my driver forgot to come. I’ve been trying to call, but… nothing.”

He looked up immediately, brows tugging together. “Didn’t your father assign someone?”

You shook your head, looking only slightly bothered. “Both of my parents are working late today. The housekeeper said she can’t leave either. I can wait, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment longer before instinct kicked in. He grabbed his phone and stood up, dialing Mr. Shin with practiced fingers.

The call connected quickly. “Mr. Shin,” Seungcheol said with crisp professionalism. “This is Seungcheol. I wanted to ask if I should assign one of my drivers to send Y/N-”

“Why do you fetch my daughter back home?” Mr. Shin’s voice cut in, amused. “You know where my house is, and I’m sure my daughter trusts you.”

Seungcheol’s brain momentarily stalled.

“I- uh…” His voice cracked before he caught himself. “Yes, sir. Of course. If that’s what you prefer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Shin said cheerfully, “Good luck,” and then promptly hung up.

The silence in his office was sudden, sharp. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at it like it had betrayed him.

And then, your voice.

“So?” you asked, leaning slightly into the doorway now, your tone light, your smile just a touch too innocent to be unintentional. “What did he say?”

Seungcheol sighed, head tilting back briefly toward the ceiling. A soft groan escaped him, one of defeat rather than irritation. He looked at you, one brow slightly raised.

“Grab your things,” he muttered, already reaching for his coat. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

You let out a delighted hum, following close behind as he flicked off the lights and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, the air was calm and comfortable, yet Seungcheol’s heart thudded just a little faster. Not because of the weight of responsibility, but because you were beside him again, walking into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward.

This day was spiraling far faster than he’d planned… and he hadn’t even started the car yet.

The car ride started in silence.

You sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands resting neatly on your lap, your bag tucked by your feet. Seungcheol, behind the wheel, exhaled slowly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, not because it needed adjusting, but because he needed something to do other than look at you.

He wasn’t used to this.

His soulmate, sitting this close, beside him, inside his car. A space that had always been quiet, strictly for thinking or decompressing. Now? It felt like you were too close, and your presence was too warm. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and then your voice came. Soft, teasing, and sweet.

“You don’t talk much when you’re driving, huh?”

His knuckles went white on the wheel. “I’m focused.”

You chuckled. “Focused on not crashing? Or focused on ignoring me?”

His jaw clenched.

God, your voice.

Light and lilting, floating straight into his ears, sitting there like it belonged. It curled around him slowly, teasing the edges of his control. He prayed to every higher being in the sky that the red light wouldn’t last long, or else he’d melt into the driver’s seat. And then you had to go and say it.

“By the way… I know I didn’t ask earlier, but is it okay that I sit here? In the front?”

He nearly choked on air. What was he supposed to say to that? No, please sit at the back so I don’t lose my mind?

“It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked firmly on the road ahead. “You’re my passenger. Of course you sit there.”

But you weren’t just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you were looking at him like you could see every thought written on his skin.

He was barely holding it together. His grip on the steering wheel never eased. His heart was pounding in a very unsafe rhythm, and he had no idea what expression you were wearing because he didn’t dare glance your way.

Not until you touched him.

It was gentle, a brush of your fingers over his knuckles, maybe meant to comfort him. But the warmth that surged through his entire arm?

The way your touch somehow seeped into his skin and calmed every frantic part of him?

Too much, his heart skipped a beat, and that was when he almost crashed.

“-Shit,” he hissed as the car veered just slightly toward another lane. Someone honked loudly. Seungcheol reacted fast, jerking the steering wheel just enough to swerve back, crossing briefly into an open lane before easing to the side of the road.

He came to a slow, shaky stop. Only then did he realize, he’d been holding his breath. The exhale that left him was heavy, his hands still frozen on the steering wheel. His eyes wide, jaw clenched, adrenaline coursing through him, and beside him, you were giggling. Not just giggling, you were laughing.

He turned his head slowly, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

Your laughter only got louder, trying, but failing, to look apologetic as your shoulders shook.

“Y-You almost-” you hiccuped in the middle of your laugh, “-crashed because I touched your hand? Really?”

He should have been mad, or embarrassed. But instead… he found himself smiling, leaning back against his seat as the tension slowly bled out of him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Too dangerous.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still breathless. “Sorry! I really didn’t think it’d throw you off that much.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t touch me when I’m driving, or I might not just almost crash next time.”

You placed a hand over your chest, playfully solemn. “Got it. Hands off the CEO while he’s behind the wheel.”

With a final, lingering look, and a sigh that carried a secret smile, he started the engine again. This time, the drive was calmer, still quiet. But the silence now? Laced with warmth.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day, Choi Seungcheol arrived at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair styled neatly, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp. A plan already mapped in his head.

Today, he told himself, he would not lose focus, he would be composed and professional. Distant, even.

He was a CEO, not some college boy crushing on his lab partner.

And then you walked in. Calm as ever, radiating soft energy like it was stitched into your aura. You greeted everyone with a polite bow, a warm smile that reached your eyes, and when your gaze met his across the hallway, you smiled wider.

He blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. Stay sharp, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed behind him into his office, as per usual. You placed your notebook on the desk neatly, your voice as honeyed as it was yesterday. “Good morning, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat betrayed him again, but he forced a nod.

“Morning. Let’s begin the schedule,” he said, already opening his laptop to avoid your eyes.

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You slept well after your near-death experience yesterday?”

He stiffened.

You were teasing him, again.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t near-death.”

“It was slightly near,” you said with a soft giggle. “You looked like you were about to write your will in that parking lane.”

He closed his laptop slowly, eyes finally meeting yours. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

He clicked his pen once, and twice. Trying to stay unbothered and ignore the way your laughter from the day before still echoed in his ears like a favorite song.

“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on to today’s shadowing.”

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. You had plans. You stayed close, just close enough to keep him aware of your presence, but never inappropriate. You asked thoughtful questions, tilted your head as you listened, eyes always fixed on him with that same soft admiration.

Your voice? Still sweet.

Your tone? Still respectful, but never flat.

He was drowning quietly. And the worst part? He knew you were doing it on purpose.

He tried keeping distance. Told you to observe from the corner during a department discussion. You obeyed, then proceeded to thank him afterward, calling his approach “insightful and clean-cut.”

He told you to grab coffee for a break, hoping you’d step away. You returned ten minutes later with a second cup for him. His favorite, somehow.

He froze when you handed it to him. “How did you know this is what I drink?”

You tilted your head again, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “You mentioned it once. Thought I’d remember.”

He had no words, just sipped silently, while the heat of the coffee failed to cover the warmth spreading in his chest.

By lunch, he was cornered—emotionally, mentally, completely. And then came the final blow.

You peeked into his office again after a quick team session, hands behind your back like a child with a secret. “I finished organizing the files from the budget review. Do you want me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

You stepped inside, but instead of placing the files on his desk, you walked closer, slower, and set them gently right beside him, leaning just a bit forward. Then, you whispered, voice like silk, “You're doing great, you know.”

He turned his head so fast it startled even himself.

You stepped back immediately, that same sweet expression never leaving your face. “Just thought someone should tell you.”

He stared at you, absolutely blindsided.

You smiled again. “I’ll get back to my desk now.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, like you hadn’t just sent his heart sprinting through his ribcage.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, dragging a hand over his face, muttering under his breath: “…I’m doomed.”

Per Mr. Shin’s earlier request, Seungcheol knew that as part of your mentorship, you needed to start observing internal meetings, especially the ones that mattered. And this one, definitely mattered.

The conference room was filled with tension the moment it began. You sat beside Seungcheol, with his secretary just one seat away. The opposing company’s team stood at the other end of the long, glass table—well-dressed, well-prepared, and, unfortunately, woefully out of touch.

At first, the presentation was tolerable. Numbers were clean, projections stable, but as soon as they reached the slide titled Strategic Timeline for Implementation, everything changed.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed.

The speaker on the opposing side continued confidently, explaining outdated timelines and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since flagged as liabilities.

He raised a hand, slowly, but firmly.

“Hold it,” he said.

The speaker paused. Seungcheol gestured toward the screen. “This segment. You need to revise this strategy. We’ve already seen instability in those markets. Collaborating there puts the project at risk.”

The man across the table gave a tight smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline may damage our relationship with the local representatives. A shift might send the wrong message.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardened.

“I said it needs to change.”

The tension escalated. His voice was still level, but underneath it was a warning. You could feel the air grow heavier around the table. The other attendees exchanged subtle glances. His secretary lowered her gaze.

You sat there, watching him. His knuckles were turning white, hand clenched against the table. His shoulders stiff, jaw set, clearly holding back the frustration simmering inside.

Should you do something? You hesitated. You’d never seen him this serious before. This cold. It was a side of him you hadn’t met: CEO Choi in full form. Intimidating, sharp, commanding.

But something in you… moved.

Even if he’s your boss. Even if you’re scared. You didn’t want him to be swallowed by the storm he was holding back.

So, gently—barely noticeable to anyone else—you reached out beneath the table, and touched his knuckles.

The tension left his hand almost instantly. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at you, but he felt it, and it grounded him.

His eyes flicked back to the presenter. His shoulders lowered slightly. And then—calm, steady, dangerous—he spoke again.

“I said the cons of not changing. If you can’t change,” he began, voice slow and clear, “I can already see your company failing, and dragging mine down with it.”

The room froze.

“So I suggest you change it,” he continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “or I’ll stop collaborating with you altogether.”

He leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping a notch.

“It’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

Dead silence followed.

The opposing speaker faltered, swallowed hard, and eventually nodded. “Understood… We’ll revise it.”

Seungcheol nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

The rest of the meeting passed with no further resistance. Everyone suddenly became a lot more agreeable. When it ended, people stood slowly, gathering their notes and trying to pretend they hadn’t just witnessed the CEO version of a guillotine.

You, meanwhile, were still seated, glancing at him quietly.

As soon as the door shut behind the last guest, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. Not loud, but deep. Then he finally looked at you. Not cold, not intimidating, just… aware.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “For what?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a small, dry smile. “For keeping me from flipping the table.”

You giggled softly. “Glad I could stop a potential lawsuit.”

He laughed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Me? I just touched your hand.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyeing you. “That’s the problem.”

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room closed with a muted click, sealing away the tension that had filled the space just moments ago. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket.

Seungcheol remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders finally relaxed, jaw no longer set, but he didn’t move, not yet.

He glanced toward you, and then his gaze dropped to your hands.

They were resting gently in your lap, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. The same hands that had grounded him just minutes earlier with nothing more than a simple touch.

His eyes lingered there longer than he should have and you noticed.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips, making his eyes flicker up to your face in mild panic, but you weren’t teasing. Your smile was warm, as if you already understood what he was thinking without needing him to say it aloud.

You shift your seat closer to his, and without asking, without hesitation, you reached out and gently cupped his hands, both of them.

Your palms were warm. Your grip wasn’t delicate, it was steady and secure, like you weren’t just touching him, you were anchoring him.

He stiffened at first, not used to being handled like that. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something cracked inside him. Something quiet.

You smiled at him again, sweet and sure, and then said with the calmest voice he’d ever heard: “Hold onto mine if you want. I’m always here beside you.”

The words weren’t loud, they weren’t dramatic, but God, did they hit hard. His breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers, usually firm and commanding, hesitated, and then slowly, tentatively, curled around yours.

The pressure in his chest eased, the sharp edge of his thoughts dulled, and in its place was only your warmth, quietly settling in his bloodstream, pushing out the last remnants of the anger and disappointment that had clouded him just minutes ago.

It felt dangerous and addictive, but more than anything, it felt right.

He said nothing, still lost in your gaze.

And you? You didn’t ask for anything in return, you simply stood there, smiling as if you had all the time in the world to wait for him to breathe again.

And finally, he did.

“…You’re trouble,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

You laughed, soft and silvery. “You’ve said that before.”

He shook his head slightly. “I meant it even more now.”

But he didn’t let go, not yet.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The day had finally drawn to a close. The last of the lights at the office flickered off, and staff began to disappear one by one. Choi Seungcheol stepped out of the elevator, jacket draped over his arm, briefcase in hand, ready to head home.

That was until his secretary caught him in the lobby.

“Mr. Choi,” she said with a small nod toward you, waiting quietly near the front entrance. “Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a ride.”

He blinked once.

Again?

His eyes drifted toward you. You were scrolling on your phone, humming lightly under your breath, completely unbothered. Just like yesterday.

Suspicious.

You looked up at him at just the right moment, smiling, and all his suspicion melted into a sigh.

“...She’s doing this on purpose,” he mumbled to himself, but louder than he meant to. Still, he nodded toward the car. “Let’s go.”

You fell into step beside him, cheerful and bright even in the evening glow. Once inside the car, you didn’t even hesitate, you walked straight to the passenger seat and slid in smoothly, as if it were your assigned spot.

Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began to drive.

Silence filled the space again, peaceful, but electric in its own way.

He kept his eyes forward, focused, or trying to be. Then your voice—soft, laced with mischief—cut into the quiet.

“Do you want to get late supper?”

The car didn’t swerve this time, but Seungcheol’s grip on the wheel definitely stiffened. He glanced at you briefly.

Late supper? That was not in the schedule.

His routine was sacred. Home, shower, towel-dry hair for two minutes exactly, collapse onto bed, wake up, work, and repeat.

He did not do it spontaneously yet here you were, blinking at him innocently.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to look at you.

“Late supper?” he repeated, like the phrase was foreign.

You nodded. “I know there are some places still open for people like me.”

People like you? What did that mean? Were you just… casual about life like that? Wandering the streets at midnight, hunting for warm broth and rice with no plan whatsoever?

That was chaos, and dangerous… but oddly tempting. And while his mind absolutely panicked over the idea of shifting his routine by even an inch, his heart was already halfway to the restaurant.

He stared at you. You stared back, innocently and unassuming, completely unaware of the inner breakdown he was having. Or… maybe fully aware.

He sighed heavily, eyes closing for a second. “Key in the address.”

You beamed, tapping in the location into his GPS. He drove through the green light with a defeated grunt. He glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. and for once in his life, he didn’t hate the idea of change.

The city lights shimmered against the night sky, and neon signs flickered above street corners, glowing softly like stars fallen to the ground. The GPS guided Seungcheol through a few narrow turns before slowing to a stop beside a quiet cluster of food stalls tucked between two buildings.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried batter, and warm soup broth.

It wasn’t flashy or pristine, it wasn’t anything remotely close to what CEO Choi Seungcheol was used to.

And yet… he was here.

You stepped out of the car with a bright grin, your shoes softly clicking on the pavement. You turned back to face him as he closed the car door slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scene like a foreign landscape.

“First time?” you asked, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Very first.”

You giggled, hugging your arms to yourself. “Same. But I wanted to explore, and I figured... food like this probably tastes better when you’re not worried about etiquette.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s what everyone says before they get food poisoning.”

You shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a corporate man.”

“And you’re reckless,” he muttered, but followed you anyway.

You led him to one of the stalls with a steaming pot of tteokbokki, skewers glistening beside it. The ahjumma running the stall gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to sit.

The two of you took seats on worn plastic stools under a flickering lightbulb, the table in front of you scratched with time, marked with memories. And somehow, to Seungcheol, it felt weirdly peaceful.

You handed him a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “Let’s try not to act like we just left a board meeting.”

Seungcheol stared down at the food. No plated silverware, no polished wine glasses, just bubbling spicy sauce and steam against the cool air.

It was chaotic and… warm.

He picked up a piece of rice cake, blew on it once, then tasted it. His eyebrows rose.

“...That’s not bad.”

You laughed. “Not bad? That’s it? That’s your review?”

He nodded, eyes focused on the next bite. “Spicy. A little sweet. Soft texture. Good balance.”

“God,” you groaned, “you’re reviewing it like a Michelin judge.”

“You invited a CEO. What did you expect?”

You laughed again, and the sound danced through the night air, making his chest feel far lighter than it had all day.

As you both ate, conversation flowed more freely. You talked about small things: food preferences, random bucket list items, silly high school moments. Seungcheol found himself leaning forward more, laughing softly, even forgetting to check the time.

He didn’t even realize how relaxed he looked. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks clumsily trying to balance a fish cake skewer.

At one point, you handed him a tissue as he dabbed the edge of his mouth, cheeks slightly red from the heat of the spice.

“Next time,” you said between bites, “we should try grilled skewers by the river. I heard they open till 3AM.”

He stared at you.

Next time?

A part of him panicked again, knowing this was starting to become a habit. But the other part? The one quietly folding inside his chest, heartbeat slow and warm? That part didn’t mind at all.

After the last bite was eaten and the food stall cleared, you both stood up from your stools, stomachs full and spirits even fuller. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already fishing out a few bills to pay, but before you could even lift your hand to the stall owner, Seungcheol moved faster. With practiced ease, he gently pushed your hand aside—not harshly, but firm enough to make you blink in surprise—and handed over the exact cash to the ahjumma behind the stall.

He didn’t even look at you as he accepted the change with a polite nod.

You, on the other hand, were left blinking in quiet disbelief.

No words were exchanged in that moment.

The two of you returned to the car under the soft night sky, sliding into your seats once again. The car’s interior greeted you with its usual scent, clean leather and something that faintly smelled like cedarwood and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head toward him, curious.

“How did you have cash money in you?”

He glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I’m not always a card guy, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff. “Right. A card and cash money guy who doesn’t know how to relax.”

That made him laugh this time, a sound that was deep and rich and a little too attractive for your heart to handle. But it didn’t stop there.

He turned to say something else, only to realize you hadn’t buckled in yet. His eyes lowered to the strap by your side, then back at you.

“Seatbelt,” he muttered softly, but instead of waiting for you to fix it, he leaned in.

You froze.

The air felt thinner suddenly.

Seungcheol reached across you, one arm brushing past your shoulder, fingers catching the seatbelt smoothly as he clicked it into place. His scent surrounded you, something expensive and warm. He didn’t notice how close he was. He didn’t see the way your breath hitched, or how your lashes fluttered like they were trying to compose themselves.

To him, it was just another responsible act.

To you? It was too close. Too sudden and overwhelming.

He leaned back into his seat like nothing happened, shot you a relaxed smile as his hand returned to the wheel.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, as if your heart wasn’t thundering like a drum in your ears.

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parting, unsure if you should thank him or scream internally. But eventually, you just gave a small nod, tucking your hands on your lap.

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “Ready.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains of Seungcheol’s penthouse, casting warm light across his pristine walk-in closet. Rows of crisp shirts, tailored blazers, perfectly ironed trousers, and a curated collection of designer watches lined the walls like an exhibition.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, a clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, his charcoal grey blazer slung loosely over one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, falling in soft waves over his forehead.

And yet, he frowned.

Something was… off.

His hands moved on their own, slipping off the blazer and replacing it with a navy one. He buttoned the cuffs, stared into the mirror and tilted his head.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-colored jacket, loosened the collar slightly, and he looked at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

There was no event today, no company gala, no board of directors flying in from overseas. It was just a regular day at work. But then again… you would be there.

That alone was enough to make his entire closet suddenly feel insufficient.

He wasn’t even sure when it started, this strange habit of wanting to look just a little better each morning, starting from today. All he knew was that your eyes, so bright and attentive, always lingered a little longer than necessary. And the way you smiled at him, as if he was someone worth admiring…

He wanted to live up to that look.

He tried on three different watches before settling on a Piaget brand Polo Date watch. Switched out his usual thin-framed glasses for a bolder pair. Dabbed on a Creed brand cologne. Then he stood back, observing himself fully.

Blazer sharp, tie slightly loosened, hair perfectly imperfect, and a hint of confidence in his smirk, just enough to keep him grounded. Still, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Choi Seungcheol...”

But he didn’t change.

With one last glance in the mirror and a small breath to steady the fluttering inside his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The automatic doors of the building slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a gentle gust of morning air. Seungcheol stepped into the familiar lobby, polished floors reflecting the low sunlight spilling through the glass walls. The day had just begun. Staff were slowly trickling in, exchanging greetings and organizing the day’s start.

And then he saw you, standing near the entrance, chatting lightly with the front desk assistant, smiling just enough to make time slow down.

You looked simple—fresh-faced, your hair styled neatly, blouse tucked into a modest skirt—but to Seungcheol, you were breathtaking.

Maybe it was the light hitting you just right, or the soft sound of your laugh, or maybe, it was just you being you. Whatever it was, he was gone the moment your eyes lifted to meet his.

You turned fully toward him, a little surprise in your gaze, followed quickly by something warmer, something curious as your eyes slowly drifted from his face to… his clothes.

You blinked once, and then twice before your lips curled up knowingly.

“Oh?” you said with an arch of your brow, arms crossing lightly over your chest. “New look today, Mr. Choi?”

He tried to act unaffected, adjusting the strap of his watch as if it wasn’t planned, as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating between jackets this morning.

“I just picked whatever was clean,” he said flatly.

You giggled softly, stepping closer, eyes never leaving his figure.

“Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today.”

He froze, not obviously, but just enough for his breath to catch for half a second.

You looked back up at his face, tilting your head, clearly amused at how his ears turned ever so slightly pink.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“You are.”

“Y/N,” he warned lightly, though the corners of his lips gave away the smile threatening to break free.

You stepped beside him, walking toward the elevator as he followed. “You know,” you said, glancing at him sideways, “if dressing up makes you this charming in the morning, I might start asking you to do it more often.”

He scoffed gently, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t get used to it.”

“But you did it for me, didn’t you?” you teased, voice low and sweet.

The elevator dinged, and he walked in without responding. You followed closely behind, the space inside suddenly smaller than you remembered. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer. And when he caught your reflection in the elevator door, still staring at him with that quiet affection, you saw it: that small smile, breaking through.

The morning had passed quietly. Well, as quiet as it could be when your mentor happened to be the CEO and also your soulmate.

You sat at your desk just outside Seungcheol’s office, sorting through case studies he had handed you earlier. You were almost done highlighting key points when your phone buzzed softly beside your notebook.

It was a message from your mother.

《Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual. We’d love to see the two of you together. I made a reservation already, just in case.》

Your eyes widened slightly at the abruptness. You sighed softly. Of course your mom didn’t wait for confirmation before booking a spot. After re-reading it twice, you got up from your desk, lightly knocking on Seungcheol’s office door before pushing it open.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reviewed a report. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your knock.

“Yes?”

You stepped in, holding up your phone. “My parents messaged. They want to have lunch with you today. Apparently they already made a reservation.”

He turned fully to face you, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Today?”

You nodded, showing him the text.

He didn’t react much on the surface, but you could tell he wasn’t the type who took surprises well. Still, his expression remained composed, only betraying a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

“Cancel the team check-in for 1PM. And block a lunch schedule under the Shin family.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied promptly.

He turned to you, expression unreadable but his tone even.

“I assume they picked a restaurant already?”

You nodded. “They did. I’ll send you the location.”

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of work on his desk, clearly adjusting his internal clock again.

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not a shareholders meeting.”

He gave a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve met your parents, right? Do they seem like the type to keep things ‘casual’?”

You laughed. “Touché.”

He watched you quietly for a moment, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

You paused. “…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you,” you said honestly. “And I know how much they respect you, likewise to you.”

He held your gaze a beat longer, before his lips curved, just slightly. “You make it sound like I’m meeting them for the first time.” then he cleared his throat and reached for his watch.

“I’ll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but not before tossing him a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi.”

The only reply you got was the sound of a pen clicking behind you, and a quiet, amused exhale.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The restaurant was elegantly quiet, the kind of place where even the clink of silverware was softened by velvet-covered walls and subtle classical music. The hostess led you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents were already seated. Your mother in her pearls, your father sharp in a navy suit, as dignified as ever.

“Seungcheol,” your father greeted first, standing to shake his hand. Seungcheol gave a slight bow, professional but respectful.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin.”

“Likewise. Please, sit.”

You quietly slipped into the seat beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands folded politely on your lap.

The first few minutes were expected. Business as usual. Your father inquired about company expansion, potential collaborations, the trajectory of your training under Seungcheol’s wing. You listened attentively, occasionally stealing glances at your mentor, who answered every question with calm poise and clean, articulate responses.

It was going perfectly. Then the food arrived, and with it, your mother’s sudden ambush.

“So,” she said lightly, reaching for her soup spoon. “How is my daughter in your company?”

Seungcheol dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

“She’s attentive. Observant. Quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she’s shown in just a few days.”

You blinked, warmth blooming in your chest. The compliment made you sit just a little straighter. But your mother wasn't finished.

“And how is she…” she said, stirring her soup slowly, “…as your soulmate?”

The spoon Seungcheol had just brought to his mouth halted halfway. Then-

Choke.

Not a polite cough or a dignified clear of the throat, no. A full-on choke. You nearly dropped your own spoon as you rushed to grab his glass of water and held it out to him with both hands. He took it immediately, eyes watering as he tried to recover, sipping fast, gulping once, then twice.

“M-Mom!” you cried, cheeks flushing. “Seriously?!”

Across the table, your mother wore the most innocent smile imaginable. “What? I’m just curious.”

Your father turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “Soulmates?”

Your mother nodded, sipping calmly from her tea. “I noticed at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other for far too long. I had a feeling something happened. So I made a few… connections.”

You and Seungcheol froze.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you. Him still trying to swallow down the last of his panic, and you patting his back while staring wide-eyed at her like she’d just exposed your deepest secret.

Then she tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You were too stunned to deny it. Beside you, Seungcheol finally lowered the glass, setting it down slowly on the table.

But he didn’t look up. Not at your mother, and especially not at your father.

His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

You could see the gears in his head… what would they think? A man ten years their daughter, their trusted work partner… now tied to her by something unbreakable, fated.

He was terrified of your father’s judgment, terrified of how this would change everything.

You saw it all in the way his shoulders tensed, and how his eyes remained fixed on the tablecloth. For a moment, the air was still. Then your father set down his spoon with a soft clink and leaned back in his seat.

“…Choi Seungcheol,” he said.

Seungcheol immediately straightened in his chair, gaze still lowered. “Yes, sir.”

Your father’s voice was unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seungcheol hesitated. “…Because I didn’t want to risk complicating anything. With your daughter… or with you.”

Your mother looked between the two men, eyes narrowing slightly. You bit your bottom lip, and your father was quiet again. Then, after a moment that stretched painfully long, he spoke.

“…You’re an honorable man, Seungcheol.” Both you and Seungcheol blinked. Your father continued. “I’ve known that since the first time you sat across from me in a boardroom. That hasn’t changed. But now…” He looked directly at Seungcheol. “That honor means something more. It means you’ll protect her.”

Seungcheol finally looked up, stunned.

Your father gave a small nod. “You didn’t choose this, neither did she. But if fate tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her well, not as your intern, not as your subordinate, but as your equal.”

You stared at your father, lips parted in surprise. And beside you, you heard the breath Seungcheol finally let out. Quiet, shaky, and filled with quiet relief.

“…I will,” he said, voice low but clear. “I promise you. I’ll protect her, sir.”

Your father nodded again, then returned to his soup like he hadn’t just shaken the tension off the entire table. Your mother, watching everything with that quiet knowing glint in her eyes, simply smirked behind her teacup.

“Well,” she said, “now that that’s out of the way, let’s enjoy lunch properly.”

The quiet click of the car doors closing echoed softly in the air, muffled only by the cocoon of silence surrounding the two of you. The engine remained untouched. Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting lightly on the wheel, gaze fixed on the windshield.

But he wasn’t seeing the road.

He was reliving the moment, the conversation over lunch, the weight of your father’s words, the softness in your mother’s knowing smile. He had braced himself for resistance, for disapproval, for that slight pause before your father might say “But she’s still too young.” Instead, what he got… was a blessing. Permission to be selfish with his heart, to love you out loud.

He swallowed hard, feeling the words echo in his chest like they had carved out space just for you. You didn’t choose this, but if fate tied you together... treat her as your equal.

And god, he would.

He would treat you like a queen. He’d spoil you relentlessly, shamelessly. He’d plan every date to perfection. He’d get you that charm bracelet you’d once said you liked, and for every monsary you celebrated together, he’d add a charm. One for each memory.

The pressure of restraint melted off his shoulders like winter snow beneath the sun. And in its place, something even warmer bloomed: freedom. Freedom to love you.

And so, without starting the car, without breaking the moment, he turned his head, and saw you already watching him.

Lovingly. Softly.

As if your gaze could read the chaos of emotions unraveling in his chest.

You smiled, a small, sweet curl of your lips. “Hi,” you whispered.

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to make his head spin.

He laughed. A real one. Not the tight-lipped CEO chuckle he gave in meetings, no. This one was open, light, carefree. His teeth showed, his eyes crinkled, and you, caught in his joy, joined him with a soft chuckle of your own.

Then the laughter faded into something quieter, heavier, something that made the air between you two spark.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Mind if I do something,” he said slowly, voice low and a little breathless, “that’s normal for a thirty-year-old me... but might be embarrassing for you?”

You blinked once, head tilted like a curious kitten, but you nodded, without hesitation. And with that, he leaned in.

One hand lifted, fingers brushing past your hair to cradle the back of your head gently. His touch was steady and certain, like he had waited long enough.

And then, he kissed you soft and warm, eyes closed. No rush, no pressure, just him letting everything he had been holding in for days spill into that single, quiet kiss.

You melted against him almost instinctively, lips moving in sync with his—tender, slow, meaningful.

And in that kiss, Seungcheol thought: so this is what peace tastes like, this is what fate feels like.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed, breaths mixing in the small space between. You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with something sincere.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the masquerade.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The hum of conversation filled the large, sunlit private room in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked, and the smell of food already filled the air, even though not everyone had arrived yet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Seungcheol, dressed in a sleek black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his watch and veins. Beside him, you entered quietly, but not subtly, your fingers gently laced with his.

Heads turned, every conversation stopped. Then-

“Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!”

“Wait, is that her?!”

“Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!”

A wave of chaotic excitement crashed over the room as all of Seungcheol’s friends—his closest circle, the ones he called his brothers—immediately swarmed you with bright eyes and louder voices. Mingyu clapped Seungcheol on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. Soonyoung practically bounced on his heels. Seokmin gave you the biggest, warmest grin.

They were chaos, but they were warm.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Jeonghan looped an arm around your shoulders like you were already part of the family.

“So you’re the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting. “God, we’ve been hearing about you without even hearing your name. It’s an honor.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but let out a small, amused chuckle as everyone finally settled into their seats.

The chaos didn’t stop there, though. Once the appetizers were cleared and laughter quieted to occasional giggles between sips of wine, Jeonghan leaned forward with a grin that screamed mischief.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said, pointing a lazy finger at Seungcheol. “This guy’s been dating her for two years and still didn’t bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't bear waiting. A father now, remember those past times?” He flashed his ring proudly.

The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, others rolling their eyes at Jeonghan’s dramatics, even Seungcheol cracked a wide grin. But he didn’t say anything, not yet, because the best part hadn’t come.

After the main course, when desserts were being served and the wine glasses were half-full, Seungcheol stood up slowly, lifting his glass.

“I have two pieces of news,” he said, his voice calm but his smile soft.

Everyone quieted, eyes turned.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the group. “First- Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father’s company starting this year.”

A round of cheers, whistles, and applause erupted from the table.

“Yah! That’s huge!”

“A power couple, oh my god.”

“Don’t forget us little people when you both own half the country!”

You bashfully lowered your gaze, cheeks warm, mouthing a soft thank you as Seungcheol gently placed a hand on your back.

“And the second piece of news…” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, “-is that she said yes.”

Silence with confused blinks, then-

“Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!”

“SAID YES TO WHAT?!”

“Oh my GOD!”

“You’re LYING!”

The table exploded.

Mingyu stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. Soonyoung dropped his fork. Jeonghan’s jaw dropped open like something out of a drama. Seungcheol just smirked, then gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn’t even need to open it. The moment the box was visible, the screaming got worse.

You held up your hand, heart racing, showing the sparkling ring on your finger with a small smile.

“I’m his fiancée,” you said, voice shy but filled with certainty.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

The group erupted again, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the ring, while Seungcheol calmly sat down next to you, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just broken the minds of every single person at the table. And in the midst of all the shouting and disbelief, he leaned in close to whisper just for you to hear: “You're mine now. Officially.”

Your heart fluttered. And in the chaos of friends and laughter, you never felt more sure. Of him. Of you. Of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight

[withlovemark]

“you should start an onlyfans.”

synopsis -> it’s your boyfriends birthday! but he could care less about the fact that you want to celebrate him. you’re determined to change that.

warnings: a birthday blowjob!

—

when the clock struck midnight, you were ready – walking into your boyfriend’s room with the bento cake in your hand, a bear candle lit up in the middle, your soft voice ringing through his room, affectionately singing him the melody reserved for him on this special day, once a year.

haechan! quickly darts his eyes from his computer screen to you, a small smile on his face. he lets you finish singing the tune, the boys joining in through his headset. he closes his eyes for half a second to make a wish. then he blows out the candle “you’re too sweet baby, thank you,” he says, his honey, husky voice complimenting your ears as he places a quick kiss on your lips.

but before you could deepen the kiss, his eyes had already drifted back to his screen, gaming headphones back on, one hand on his mouse, the other on his keyboard, playing away.

you stared at him for a second too long, lips still tingling, birthday cake sitting untouched by the monitor’s glow. he was back in the zone, all commands and focused flicks, the world around him falling away.

except — you weren’t going to let it.

it’s been a while since you had some time together, with tour and fan events and preparations for his solo taking him away most days. you understand it. you love him anyways but you’ve missed him in ways more than one.

you make your way behind his gaming chair, your arms going around his shoulders, “baby—” you whisper against his neck, watching the goosebumps rise all over his skin. you place a sweet kiss on one of his moles there, “i need you,” you say, needy and desperate.

he just glances your way once, muttering, “later, babe,” while tapping your hand before going back to his game, eyes locked on the screen.

so this is how he wants to play it? game on.

without a word, you quietly dropped to your knees, fitting yourself in the slot between his legs, under his desk. he spares you a quick glance, an eyebrow raising but jeno is quick to yell in his ear, something about needing cover, and his attention is away from you once again.

you almost couldn’t believe it. how you were prettily on your knees for him, in between his legs, and you’re still losing to the stupid video game he plays every other night.

you ghost your fingers over his thigh, his leg twitching in response. his eyes flicked down, giving you another second, brows knitting, “what are you–”

“shhh, baby focus on your game,” you whispered, hands sliding up, voice silky and innocent, “just wanted to celebrate you properly.”

you felt his breath hitch, subtle, but not enough. his game kept going, teammates shouting in his ears through the mic. his grip on the mouse faltered just a little bit.

you looked up at him through your lashes, then your hands palm his already hard member through his sweats, wondering why he won’t just give in to his own needs. give in to you. you could feel the tension ripple through him, his focus visibly splitting. his legs parting on instinct, making more room for you.

“don’t mind me,” you purred, sneaking your hand down his sweats to finally set his cock free, thick and heavy and leaking.

he tenses under your touch, “keep playing,” you tease.

“you’re evil,” he muttered under his breath, trying not to move too much, voice low and strained.

“happy birthday,” you whisper, a devilish grin on your lips before you licked a strip from the base of his cock all the way to his tip, your tongue swirling around his head, collecting the juices he already has for you.

his jaw clenches, and you hear his character on the screen breathing heavily, after taking a couple of hits, “guys, focus! we can’t lose this round!,” you hear yangyang’s voice, making you roll your eyes.

“yeah, baby, focus, don’t want to let your team down,” you say innocently, before wrapping your mouth around his cock.

“on–fuck…o-on your left,” he manages to direct, his voice faltering the moment your lips sink down further, cheeks hollowing, taking all of him in. you feel so warm around him and he’s losing control with every second, his hips twitching upward ever so slightly, betraying just how hard he’s trying to keep it together.

you’re winning now, slowly but surely.

your mouth starts moving, bobbing your head up and down, wet and warm, hands resting on his thighs as you sucked harder, swirling your tongue in ways you know drives him crazy. he’s barely holding onto his composure now, muttering broken callouts into the mic, voice hoarse and breathless.

“haechan, what’s going on with your mic?,” chenle’s voice pipes up, suspicion laced in his tone.

you almost laugh around him but manage to keep your mouth steady, hollowing your cheeks as you draw back with a soft pop, only to dive down again, deeper this time. his thighs shake under your grip, his hand instinctively tugging his chair forward, almost trapping you between him and the desk.

“h-hold on, i-ill fix it,” he grits out, fingers scrambling for the keyboard to hit mute. he hits so many wrong keys before you finally hear the dull click of his mic cutting off.

then, finally, his head tips back against the chair with a low groan, “fuuucck, baby,” he breathes, eyes shut tight, one hand fumbling down to your hair, gripping like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

you hum around him in response.

you win.

your tongue teases that sensitive underside, your hand coming up to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. he’s trembling now, his whiny moans making your pussy twitch, and all that focus he had just ten minutes ago is completely obliterated.

“yo,” comes jaemin’s voice, tiny through the headset, “did he just moan?”

you freeze. but only for a second because your boyfriend didn’t even hear it. didn’t even flinch. just muttered a low, “shit,” under his breath as he pushed your head down further.

he thrusts up once, shallow, needy and you moan in approval.

“i can’t believe you,” he mutters, voice shaking, “you’re fucking insane,” whiny, desperate moans of your name slipping out of his lips.

his hips twitch, his thighs tense, you feel him teetering right on the edge, “shit baby, just like that, please, please, please—”

you knew he was close with the way his breaths were getting shallower, his toes curling into the carpet, the grip on your hair tightening.

you pull back for a brief second, eyes gleaming, lips wet and swollen, “you gonna come for me, birthday boy?,” you purr, sucking his tip in the way you know always pushes him over the edge.

he couldn’t even answer, his eyes completely rolling to the back of his head, jaw open in a soundless moan as his cum shoots messily out of his cock, a few drops on your tongue, a few drops on your cheek – a painting made by him.

game over.

for a moment it’s quiet, just him trying to slow his breathing, looking at you with dazed eyes, like you were the prettiest thing he’s ever gotten the privilege of ever having.

“uhhh, haechan?,” yangyang’s voice cuts through the air, awkward and almost too polite, making haechan’s eyes shot wide open. and then he sees it.

he didn’t click mute — he only switched the mic to his computer.

“oh my god,” he croaks, sitting upright so fast the chair squeaks beneath him, “no. no, no no no no–”

“bro,” jaemin says, barely holding in his laugher, “was that…a live performance?”

you’re still in between his legs, licking a drop off the corner of your mouth with a smirk, completely unbothered, “you didn’t mute it?,” you ask sweetly, as if you’re the innocent one here.

“i thought i muted it!,” haechan yells, slamming his keyboard like the traitor it is, “i switched it to computer audio,” he groans.

“which means we heard everything by the way!,” chenle shouts, howling with laughter.

“you said y/n’s name,” jeno adds snickering, “like…a lot.”

“please, please, please,” renjun adds, mocking him.

you cover your mouth to muffle your laugher but he’s already burying his face in his hands, whole body curling inward like he’s trying to disappear into the floor.

“you should start an onlyfans,” yangyang suggests, and this finally has you bursting out laughing.

“you should baby, you sounded so pretty for us.”

he glares at you through his fingers, “you knew?”

you just smile at him, eyes shining as you finally stood up.

“i hate all of you,” he mutters, yet still wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap like a shield from the world.

you giggle as you straddle him, arms wrapping around his shoulder, “happy birthday, baby.”

his gaze darkens and the words that slip out his lips makes you lose your breath.

“does anyone want to hear my girlfriends moans while i fuck her?,” he says, voice low and filled with sweet venom, almost a growl.

you freeze in his lap, heart pounding loud in your ears, his fingers dig into your hips and for a moment, you think he might actually do it. pull you in deeper, press the mic closer, let them really hear what you do to him. what he does to you.

but then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches over with one hand and slams his computer shut. everything cuts to black.

he lifts you up, tossing you onto the bed and as he stands at the edge, slowly pulling his hoodie over his head, eyes fixed on you, his voice comes out low and final, making your thighs clench.

“no one gets to hear your moans,” he growls, hovering over you now, eyes burning into yours, “they’re mine…and mine only.”

—

an: happy birthday to my one and only haechanie!!! and my last gift for you all today! of course he was going to get a birthday blurb, i’ve had this scenario in my head set up since last month lol. also the haechan above lives in my head rent free like whyyyy did he angle it that way?? doesn’t he know his fans are insane (me).

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙love language | CL16 LN4˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: charles leclerc x reader y/n (she/her) x lando norris

genre: social media au, polyamorous relationship

warnings: polyamory, dates on tweets make no sense to the story lol ignore them im srsly lazy & idc tbh

summary: in which your boyfriends love languages seem to be polar opposites

a/n: ur wish is my command also im fr running out of plot ideas on my own for the poly reqs LOLL so if u got any ideas then spam my inbox bbyyy

request!!!: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE more poly lando and charles (and kika)

fc: jules leblanc

my masterlist

twitter ->

instagram ->

francisca.cgomes

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and 414,789 others

francisca.cgomes ☕️ yum

view all 12,053 comments

user2 kikayn my favourite bffs 😻

user3 waiting for lando & charles to comment

user4 charles lando come get ur girl

pierregasly that girl is a bad influence on you babe

yourusername i know ur not talking about me

francisca.cgomes crickets...

yourusername he's scared of me. iktr

francisca.gomes as he should be

landonorris next time i will succeed.

user5 LANDO

pierregasly in what exactly 🤨

francisca.cgomes he wants me dead

landonorris never said that

yourusername you kind of did

landonorris not explicitly

charles_leclerc lando stop causing fights

pierregasly yea lando.

yourusername he's all talk dw

francisca.cgomes yea keyboard warrior much

landonorris pipe down

charles_leclerc my girl so pretty

yourusername 🥰🥰🥰

francisca.cgomes this is why ur my favourite charles

charles_leclerc ❤️

user6 the difference in replies between charles & lando 😂

user7 most chaotic comment section award goes to...

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 216,823 others

yourusername ...fourple?

tagged: francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc, landonorris

view all 4,270 comments

pierregasly leaving me out why?

yourusername u hate me i fear 😔

francisca.cgomes not true he's just intimidated by u

user8 justice for y/n

user9 they do poly so naturally

user10 the third pic omggggg y/n & her boys

liked by yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc

user11 she's so gorgeous

francisca.cgomes no just ditch them both for me actually!

yourusername well..... actually yes

francisca.cgomes YESSSS i wonnnn

landonorris 🤨

pierregasly 😤

charles_leclerc 😢

landonorris ilyyy hot girl

charles_leclerc mon amour ❤️

user12 i'll never get over lando & charles' completely opposite love languages 😂

liked by yourusername

user13 they r so real i luv them

yourusername posted a story

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, and 113,077 others

user14 "double" date or third wheel y/n?

user15 CUTIES

user16 kika my 2nd fav wag after u ofc

user17 oh to be a fly on the wallllllll

oscarpiastri are you holding him hostage

yourusername dont you start too

oscarpiastri 🤐

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 301,185 others

yourusername home alone for a week 🏝️

view all 3,747 comments

user18 AWWWW home alone no charlandoyn content

user19 aww lonely girl

francisca.cgomes this is why u need me

yourusername im actually independent

landonorris kika ur obsessed with my gf it's weird

pierregasly bro ur gf is obsessed with my gf too...

francisca.cgomes it's called love. obviously

charles_leclerc i support it 😊

landonorris stfu

pierregasly be quiet charles

yourusername we love charlie <3

charles_leclerc 🥰

user20 will their comment sections ever be normal

user21 i jus know they miss her sm

user22 she's too cool

messages ->

instagram ->

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by francisca.cgomes, landonorris, and 427,911 others

user23 OMGGG UR WITH Y/N

user24 favs omg

user25 aesthetic affff

user26 perfect couple (should i say throuple?)

francisca.cgomes ugh you guys are back stealing her from me

charles_leclerc you snooze you lose

yourusername posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 88,283 others

user27 love language strikes again

user28 he's soo sweet and attentive

user29 i want what they have

user30 lomls

charles_leclerc i love you

yourusername ❤️ love you

yourusername posted a story

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 95,162 others

user31 LANDOOOO

user32 LOL this is sooo lando i love him

user33 obsessed with him

user34 i am once again saying opposite love languages

user35 he loves u so much

oscarpiastri i wish my boyfriend would do this!

yourusername hands off, piastri

oscarpiastri 😂

carlossainz55 he is so expressive

liked by yourusername

twitter ->

instagram ->

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 826,103 others

charles_leclerc happy to be home 🏡

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

view all 11,426 comments

user43 omg the last pic HAHAHA

user44 is that lando with the bows 😂

landonorris no comment

user45 obsessed with this

user46 y/n reveal charles' love language immediately

user47 TELL USSSS @.yourusername

yourusername words of affirmation of course!

user48 im in love w all 3 of them

francisca.cgomes the third pic awwww cuties

yourusername 😘

landonorris being nice all of a sudden?

charles_leclerc don't question it just be happy!

yourusername i love you!!!

charles_leclerc i love you our girl

landonorris 🧡🧡🧡

user49 charlandoyn you will always be famous

landonorris

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 782,538 others

landonorris back where i belong

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

view all 14,402 comments

user50 AWWW

user51 they love y/n sm it's so cute

user52 omg lando being sincere & sweet :))

user53 in his charles era

yourusername aww my sweetest boyy

user54 lando love language reveal y/n!!!

yourusername acts of service ofc 😊

user55 omg🥹🥹🥹🥹

user56 y/n is so gorgeous in the second pic

user57 literally majestic

user58 charles & y/n in the third pic omg me when

user59 i want what they have

charles_leclerc perfect perfect boy

yourusername in every way :)))

landonorris stop it guys im blushing......

THE END ❤️🧡

[m4ttslvr]

˳ ៚ Stars

cocky sub!matt x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend matt can’t resist you when you wear those tiny shorts around him, even if his brothers may hear you get devoured by him

warnings: oral fem!receiving, pet names, matt the munch!!

“FUCK!” you scream at the monitor in front of you where someone just shot you and made you lose the game for everyone.

“y/n! i told you he was right behind you!” chris yells through your headset.

“chris don’t yell at her, you literally had the shot and missed it dumbass” nick defends you.

you groan loudly in annoyance at yourself, “sorry guys, can we try again?”

“ok let me get a snack and a drink first” nick says. “get me something too!” chris tells him.

you were about to ask for a snack as well, instead you yelp when you are quickly spun around in your chair.

you are met with your boyfriend matt looking down at you. “matt!” you protest with a giggle, playfully slapping his arm.

he doesn’t react much, his eyes are trained on your exposed thighs which seem to have him in a trance.

“m’sorry, you just look so delicious” matt says in a whisper, his gaze unwavering. your cheeks go red as he spreads your legs with an eager grip, and kneels in front of you. “just want a taste, please?” he looks up at you with puppy eyes that make you melt into his chair.

he places a hot kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh that makes you jump a little and you quickly snap his head up by his hair. “matt we can’t right now, i’m on a game with your brothers” you whisper, covering your mic with your other hand.

he looks up at you with blown out eyes that are glazed over with desire. “don’t care” he whines, his long fingers pulling at the hem of your red booty shorts. “pretty please?” he asks, with a pout.

you really didn’t have the strength to say no when he was looking up at you like that. your body was already hot with desire and your pussy was getting wetter by the second.

"ok" you say softly, with your heart pounding in your chest. a smile spreads across his face and he licks his lips before sucking at your sensitive skin. you softly moan low in your throat. before you get too lost in the pleasure of matt’s touch, you reach to take off your headset.

you’re stopped by matt's tattooed arm, your wrist in his hand. you look at him wide eyed, he calmly shakes his head at you. "you're gonna keep playing" he says, more of a command than a statement. your heart is racing now but you nod anyway.

matt slides his strong hands under your knees pulling you closer to him until the gaming chair is pressed against his chest. he then raises your legs and places them over his shoulders.

“mmm you’re soaking through your shorts baby” he says in a cocky tone, biting his lip to hide his proud smirk.

you jump when his brothers yell something at you through the headset. you forgot they were there.

you feel matt lick you through your shorts as you’re about to answer. “y-yeah, i’m here” your voice more high pitched and shaky than you intended.

nick and matt are complaining about how bad you’re playing but you can’t find it in you to care when your boyfriend is slipping your shorts off agonizingly slow.

your eyes are glued to the veins on his hands and the feeling of his fingertips sliding down your hot thighs is making your breathing ragged.

matt’s biting back a smirk watching you squirm. “patient” he mouths and you might just cry because of how desperate he’s making you.

chris is begging in a really loud voice you on the other line to play as good as you usually do which matt hears. he places your hands on the keyboard signaling for you to play. you’re expression is dumbfounded but you’ll do anything matt wants you to do right now.

“go on baby, play nice” matt says with an encouraging wink while he slides a finger down the witness of your panties. his touch tickles your clit ever so softly and he adds a bit of pressure at your entrance— the air in the room heavy.

you can only nod as you try to play the game. you’re trying to concentrate on chris’ instructions and when you’re finally starting to shoot straight, matt pulls your panties to the side and blows on your exposed cunt, making you gasp into the mic.

“what?” chris asks, thinking it’s a reaction to the game. “answer” matt commands steadily, his eyes trained on your leaking and pulsating pussy.

you try to come up with something on the spot “a shooter behind the—“ you’re cut off by matt’s mouth attacking your pussy without warning. “oh!” you squeal in surprise and pleasure.

“behind what?” both nick and chris ask into the your ears. your hands pressed random buttons on the keyboard making your avatar run towards a random bush. matt digs his tongue into your entrance, your walls instantly clenching around it desperate to be filled with it.

“there mm— there” your mind short circuiting and muscle memory kicking in, you are encouraging matt going down on you but his brothers think you’re telling them there’s a shooter behind a bush.

“there’s nobody here” nick says confused. matt is now licking up and down between your folds, brushing your clit and your hole with every glide of his tongue. you were now biting your hand trying to muffle your moans.

“focus y/n, take it and come on” chris says into your ears and your brain short circuits again, taking what chris said as a sexual command instead of what he actually meant, which was him handing your avatar a gun. before you can register what you’re doing you moan an “mhmm” as a reply.

your eyes go wide when you realize what you did and there’s silence on the other line, you feel embarrassment wash over you in a wave of heat down your entire body. matt doesn’t stop working his mouth on you, he is lost in your taste.

you hear someone clear their throat on your headset and then they start having a conversation about strategies for the game.

you’re thankful they don’t address it and they’re not questioning you anymore because matt has just started pumping two of his long fingers into you— all coherent thoughts gone and your back arched in pleasure.

matt was relentless shaking his head side to side, his tongue flicking your clit back and forth. you are grinding down on his fingers now, your jaw slack, desperately chasing your high.

the hand that was over your mouth goes to hold onto the armrest of the chair so you don’t fall off the chair. but that was a mistake since another flounder escaped your lips, this time louder than before.

you try to disguise it as a reaction to the game, coughing and gasping as if something shocking happened in the game. “you good y/n?” chris voice says into your ears.

“fuck! s-someone’s shooting— at— me” you manage to say, while your boobs are bouncing from the strength in which matt is fucking you with his tongue. you watch matt’s low lidded eyes follow your breasts up and down.

“…what? where?” chris asks.

you’re breathing hard through your nose, so you don’t pant all over the mic and into matt’s brother’s ears.

“you’re way behind or something, we don’t see you?” nick says.

you try your hardest to click the right buttons and get it together, “m’good now” you manage to say.

“..okay” nick says, clearly worried about my playing skills.

matt reaches for your tank top with his free hand and tugs at it. you’re lost in the feeling of his lips on you that you don’t register what he’s asking. he stops devouring you pulling a sound of protest form you, “off” he says tugging at your shirt.

you get it this time and quickly strip, your boobs jiggling as they’re released from your tight tank top. matt’s hand immediately starts playing with your breast, squeezing and playing with your nipples. the stimulation becoming overwhelming, you felt your orgasm close.

with your vision blurry due to your low eyelids, you barely saw on the screen that his brothers had lost this round making you sigh in relief.

“wanna go another round y/n?,” chris asks immediately. you can’t form words at the moment with matt abusing your pussy so you can only make a noise of disapproval.

“pleaseeee?” chris begs. you can’t help that his words go straight to your pussy, making it throb even harder against matt’s lips.

you pulled at matt’s curls, the chair rocking back and forth. you were staring to feel like you were being too rough, but your worry is discarded when matt grips you from your waist and grinds you down even harder onto his face.

“you can do it, come on y/n” chris encourages you, his words having a whole different meaning for you at the moment.

his voice sounds almost identical to matt’s through the headset and it’s turning you on impossibly more.

“please please please please” chris goes on in a whiny voice.

you can’t take it anymore and you reach for the mute button. you’re lucky that you did because a second later matt curves his tongue and fingers inside you, making you moan matt’s name loudly and release all into his mouth.

matt wastes no time sucking up your juices, the feeling overstimulating your spent cunt making you see stars.

a/n: in honor of streamer matt making a comeback! ;3

₊━ִ─ LEV ᡴꪫㅤ·⠀·

[nymphoniah]

shotgunning a cigar while grinding in origins!logan’s lap 😵‍💫😵‍💫

steal away | logan howlett

pairing: origins!logan x afab!reader

i literally can’t stop thinking about smoking with logan, whether it be the two of you stepping out for a quick smoke break, to him busting out a cigar after the two of you just had sex. like ohmygaaaawd. i need to be put down. thank you anon for giving me another scenario to fantasize about >_<

content/tags: nsfw, minors dni, 18+ only, suggestive content, dry humping, grinding, pet names (princess, doll, etc.), teasing, very very subtle dom/sub vibes.

you could see him all riled up when he comes back home from work, his muscles aching and sore—begging for your attention.

he flops onto the couch, his legs splayed, both arms resting across the backrest of the couch. and tilts his head back, spotting an upside-down version of you typing away furiously on your laptop keyboard.

a little whistle escapes out from the corner of his lips, grabbing your attention. he flashes you a coquettish smile, his hands gesturing to come join him on the couch.

you follow his command with no hesitation, wanting any excuse to get away from work—sending chains of corporate emails could only get so interesting.

pulling his legs together, he pats his quads. “c’mere princess, need to get a good look at you,” he mumbles, reaching over to the coffee table to grab a cigar.

you help logan, passing him the straight cutter placed alongside the ashtray, playfully pulling the rusted lighter he kept in the chest pocket of his flannel.

you flicked the lighter, shielding the flame from the cool breeze that lingered from an opened window in the kitchen.

his scent floods your senses as you lean into him with the lighter in your hands, his lips wrapped tightly around the cigar—the strong musk of wood and amber. the unique smell of him when he comes back from the lumberyard.

taking your hand in his, he guides the lighter to the end of the cigar. logan’s hazel eyes bore into yours as the smoke floods between the two of you, reluctantly letting your hand go.

“can’t get enough of you, darlin,” he grumbles out the corner of his mouth, followed with a puff of smoke.

you place the lighter and cutter over to the side, which eventually would be lost between the cushions later tonight.

his hands move their way to the small of your back, the calloused pads of his fingertips teasing their way underneath your nightgown.

a small gasp slips out from your lips as his hands continue to work at your skin—it felt as if you were on fire, his cold hands roaming further down, playfully tugging at the waistband of your panties.

your hands steady themselves on his brooding shoulders, giving him a little squeeze of affection. “it tickles, logan,” you chuckle, resting your head against his chest, eyelashes fluttering against him.

you can feel him exhale in response, his hands making their way to your ass, grasping at the plump flesh. “sorry, doll. just can’t keep my hands off you.”

you whine against him, and before you know it, your hips start to move on their own; the steady rhythm of your grinding matched the way his chest faltered up and down, feeling his length grow beneath you.

he gives you a slight tap on the ass, signaling for you to look back at him. “eyes up, princess,” he lulls into the shell of your ear before you pull back to meet his gaze.

“wanna taste?” logan asks, pulling the cigar away from his lips. the timbre of his voice making the offer even more tempting.

you nod your head eagerly, moving your hand from his shoulder to reach for the cigar, but he teasingly pulls it further away from you grasp, a tsk escaping from the corner of his mouth.

“use your words, princess.”

“can i have a taste, lo?” you respond rather hastily, your eyes flicking back and forth from the cigar to his lips, curled forming an impish smirk.

“c’mon. you’re missing something,” he taunts, raising his eyebrow.

“please?” you sweetly add, rutting your hips against him as an added oomph to your little request.

“‘atta girl,” he groans, feeling his cock twitch at the friction, nails digging into the soft flesh of your ass to ground himself.

with his other hand, he pulls the cigar back between his lips, deeply inhaling, letting the smoke linger in his mouth for a bit, and rests the cigar against the ashtray.

his face now a mere inch away from yours, he firmly grips your chin, and you slack your jaw open, your plump lips parted.

logan then steadily shotguns the smoke into your mouth—the heady aroma of ash and tinder flooding your senses, followed by the rush of the nicotine entering your bloodstream.

the buzz made everything feel more pleasurable, intense. the way his nose gently nudged against yours sent a shiver down your spine, the way you felt his dick grow even bigger made you press your pelvis into his further.

your head finds its way back nestled deep into his chest, and your hips seem to have a mind of its own as you continue to grind sensually against him.

“such a needy girl, huh?” logan teases, his hands guiding your hips, allowing you to rut faster against him.

“missed you so bad, lo. waited for you all day to come back home,” you whine, pressing kisses against him, the coarse hair of his chest riling you further.

“well, you’re in for a treat tonight, princess…”

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S) [3.8k]

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, prevention of pulling out.

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< kinktober masterlist | week 2 >>

It goes like this:

On a monday evening, Pamela fucking Isley decides to take her quarrel with Gotham's newest weapons company – God, could they fucking give it a break? B had only busted the last one a few weeks ago before they'd brought the city down on everyone – to new heights.

Jason's sitting in traffic with a bag of groceries slung around the handle of his bike when he gets the call. He's eager to beat you home, ready to make you dinner and heavily intent on wining and dining you after a long weekend of missing each other.

His fingers tap against his thighs impatiently, impatience sitting beneath his skin like an itch. Spikes of activity during the week had meant his plans for Friday night – dinner and a deserved night off – had been pushed to the backburner. He'd returned home in the early stillness of dawn, unable to get more than a couple of hours with you before your phone had rung, a friend's emergency pulling you out of bed with an apologetic grimace and a promise to reschedule your date night.

The headset in his ear notifies him of an incoming call, the syllables of your name dulled by the clinical, robotic voice of his phone's intelligence system. His mouth curves up into a smile beneath his helmet.

"Hi, baby," he answers immediately. "I'm on my way home, you need anything? I just left the store but I can go back–"

You cut him off in a tight voice. Later, he'll be ashamed that the first thing that comes to mind is, not another fucking postponement. Now, his brows furrow at your tone, stomach dipping uncertainly when it becomes clear that this is something more serious.

Your voice wobbles, high-pitched and tearful. At the same time, the dash on his bike begins to flash in rapid succession, the paging system he'd installed for the bats to communicate with him glaring back at him, blood red.

ORACLE: CHEMICAL LEAK DOWNTOWN. BATS + R.ROBIN EN ROUTE. ALL UNITS STANDBY.

His dread plummets and for a moment his throat closes over. You're speaking to him but he struggles to make it out through the ringing in his ears.

"Jason, I'm – I'm home but I don't – I don't know what to do."

He bites back a curse and tries to swallow the lump in his throat, grappling for words of comfort.

"It's okay," he soothes, straining to keep his voice level. "Listen, sweetheart, can you go lock the door for me? I'm – shit – I'll be home soon, alright? It'll be okay. We'll fix it."

He doesn't give himself time to linger on the call after you confirm you've locked it, barking out a command to dial Oracle that his system fails to pick up twice, only registering after he steadies himself.

She picks up on the third ring. It irritates him how unfazed she sounds when he explains the situation to her. He hears the click of her keyboard in the background, the hum of her monitors. Each passing second as she patches through to Nightwing is agony and the slow crawl of traffic does little to help.

His leg has begun to jostle the bike with the weight of its shaking when she returns to their call.

"You're not going to like this," she says and he feels the bile rising in his throat.

"What." He grits it out through his teeth, unable to manage much more than that. He hears Oracle sigh.

"Looks like an aphrodisiac," she says clinically. "Her plan was to get them caught compromised enough to lose credit publicly."

"Oracle." She hears his growl for what it is – Tell me whether or not it's over.

"It's non-lethal," she affirms and he sighs harshly. The tightness in his chest loosens ever so slightly as she talks. "Ivy let it off near city hall because most of the shareholders were scheduled to hold a meeting – that's where your girl works, right? Alf's working on an antidote but she should be relatively fine until it's ready. Just – keep an eye on her."

Tim joins the line then and Jason startles at the sound of his voice in his ear.

"I don't know what the fuck she wanted to achieve," the boy grumbles. He's a little out of breath and in any other situation, Jason would have something to say about that. Tonight, he's not in the mood for jokes.

"Red," he barks out. The kid makes a distracted noise, and he can hear the sounds of a scuffle on the other end. "You tell Ivy if anything happens to my girl, I'll make sure she's next."

He doesn't wait to hear what's sure to be a non-committal answer at best, kicking off and veering between the lined up vehicles. There's an outroar from the drivers around him, laying on their car horns. Someone pokes their head out of their window to scream at him.

He hears none of it, the blood rushing in his ears keeping him single-minded.

This string that twines him to you isn't new. It wears signs of age, shows the years in the way his fingers reach for yours in the early moments of his day, the turn of your eyes to his in any room. He's seen a few summers with you at his side but the fear –

Blood, coagulating, the cold brush of death, splintered wood beneath nails and a haunting smile

– the fear never stagnates.

A bitter, resigned shard of him breathes out as he speeds through the streets. A veritable sword over his crown, this almost seems expected. Loathing colours the skyline and he, the fool, to think he could hold this one, precious, beloved thing unscathed.

He forgoes the groceries in his haste, leaving the bags in his haste to throw himself up the stairs and out of the parking garage. Pulse thundering in his ears, sweat coating his palms, he scrabbles with the key to your shared apartment.

The door flies open and a hand is grabbing him by the front of his shirt before he can slot it through the lock.

You, wild-eyed and frantic, pull him inside with a bitten off sob.

"Shh, shh, I'm here, come here."

He kicks the door shut, reaching behind him to flip the locks with one hand. The other curls you protectively to his chest, fingers splaying over your back. The sight of you calms him considerably and he chokes out a stuttered breath, the lump in his throat dissolving to give way for a flood of relief.

You're burning in his arms, the thin undershirt you've got on soaked through with sweat, face glowing with perspiration. Eyebrows knitted, you cling to him tighter and he finds himself making noises of comfort.

"Jason, I –"

"Shh. I know, honey, I know," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are tearful, salt spilling over lashes and rolling down your cheeks. "Come on, let's get you to lie down."

"No," you whine, pitching miserably as he shuffles the both of you towards your bedroom, face creasing with every movement. "Hurts."

"I know," he whispers, hating the way his voice cracks. His eyes burn painfully. "'ll get you a towel, alright?"

You're deposited on the bed and he makes a turn for the bathroom, wetting a cloth. When he enters the bedroom again you've pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed. You've shed the pants you'd worn earlier, left now in only and undershirt and your underwear. His name falls from your lips pitifully and he steps forward, lips turning down into a commiserating frown.

You shy away from the cloth when he presses it against your forehead, letting out a hiss as it makes contact with your burning skin. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck and you seem to like that much better, sighing under his touch. Jason takes advantage of this to keep you in place, mopping the sweat off your face and neck, trying his best not to give into your dissatisfied squirming.

"I know, I'm an asshole," he mutters, when you cry out his name, displeasure making itself clear on your face. "Get better so you can yell at me for it, alright?"

"Don't wanna – yell at you," you mumble, wetting your lips as they part.

He clocks the dilation of your pupils a little too late and shakes his head adamantly, trying to draw back but you've got a hold of his shirt, pulling him forward. He catches himself with a hand agains the headboard, a knee pressing into the mattress beneath him.

You stare up at him, mouth turning down into a pained grimace.

"C'mon honey," he mutters, pleading, feeling his face flood with warmth. "Don't do this to me. Be good, you'll be alright, okay? Any minute they're gonna call and tell me Alf's got an antidote ready – shit, maybe we should just drive you there now -"

"No," you sob, face crumpling under the weight of your tears again, pushing up on your knees to fling your arms around his shoulders. The effort of the movement makes you stutter out a gasp and he's forced to band an arm around your waist to steady the both of you.

Your tears wet the skin of his neck, your body pressed flush against his. He becomes aware, regrettably, of the skin beneath his fingers, your undershirt having ridden up to expose the softness of your lower back.

"Please," you hiccup into his shoulder. "Please, Jason – Please."

He'll have to ask Oracle later if second-hand exposure to the toxin is supposed to have an effect on him. At the touch of your chest to his, he feels himself warm all over, mouth drying when you begin to keen, arching up into his touch in an effort to get him to do something.

"Fuck," he curses. "Fuck. Alright, just – come here."

He kicks his shoes off, the sneakers clattering against the floor, and crawls onto the bed properly. Sat up against the headboard, he meets your baleful gaze with a raised brow and reaches for you.

Jason shakes his head when you go to straddle his lap, maneuvering you against his chest until your back rests against it. You let out a whimper, displeased, but he shakes his head.

"This is all you're getting, alright? Just – it'll tide you over until they call."

He spreads your legs until they hang over his own, your thighs bracketing his and leaving you open. His blood thunders in his ears, hand trembling as he reaches it up to your mouth, fingers prodding at the soft plush of your lips.

Your tongue laves at his digits, a muffled moan trapped in the recesses of your throat. One of your hands curls around his wrist, the other perching against his thigh, nails curling against the fabric of his jeans. He can feel you shift against him, hips canting ever so slightly over his own.

Awful, wretched, lecherous, he stiffens under the movement, jeans tightening. His free hand wraps around you hip with the intent of pinning you in place and stopping you. Somehow, he finds himself guiding you back and forth instead.

You tip your head back against his shoulder, baring the soft line of your throat as you drool around his fingers. He can feel the wetness pooling around his knuckles, the softness of your ass against him, separated only by a few layers. If he cranes his neck, he'll probably find your panties sticky with your need. The thought alone makes his eyes flutter.

The room is blanketed in muffled whimpers, the whispers of rustling sheets and his shaky breaths. You've quietened down some since he'd gotten his fingers in your mouth, but the heat seems to have returned with a vengeance when you begin to fuss in his lap again. Your fingers dig into his thigh and you whine, tugging at his wrist in an effort to push his hand where you need it most.

He hushes you with a squeeze to your hip and tips your face to meet his. Bleary eyed, silvery tracks smattered across your cheeks, you're struggling to hold on. He lowers his mouth to yours, a chaste kiss that deepens when you part your lips to lick into his mouth.

"Jason, come on."

"No, don't take it off," he whispers when your hands make to tug your underwear off. You whine and he hushes you again, "Shh, I'm going to take care of you, be patient for me, alright?"

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and watches you shudder at the first swipe. Similarly affected, he feels himself twitch when his fingers make contact with the soft slickness of your flesh, gliding against silken folds.

"Oh," you sigh, sagging slightly into him.

"There you go." He presses a kiss to your sweaty temple, trying to pretend this is just another night together and he's being a loving boyfriend, that you're not delirious with want just because of the toxin running through your bloodstream. "That's my girl."

He presses gentle circles against you, closing his eyes and ghosting his mouth over the curve of your shoulder. The smell of sex is thick in the air, that heady musk and sweat that he could drown in. Your breaths come in pants now as he works you open gently, thumb rolling over your centre.

"Just like that," he rumbles, straining to keep his head on straight. It's difficult, when you arch against him, his name spilling from your lips in adoration coloured mewls. Your arm raises, curling behind you to embrace his neck.

It doesn't take you very long to come, pent up and sensitive – he discovers this when his hand grazes over your chest to stroke your face and you keen so loud he fears he'll come in his pants at the sound, your mouth, bitten raw, dropping open as you moan. A few strokes against your centre and you come apart in his arms, hard. The tremors wrack your body long after the fact, your core pulsing around his fingers.

He, ever the fool, expects this to sate your hunger.

Whatever Ivy's put in her newest concoction is potent. You gather your breath quick enough and it becomes apparent that just the one isn't nearly enough. He's pushed back against the headboard, stunned into silence as you clamber onto his thigh, pawing at him like you can't get close enough.

You struggle with the fabric of his shirt before giving up and any questions he has sputter off into silence when you begin to rock back and forth on him. The denim of his jeans is unforgiving against the thin, sodden material of your underwear, providing a harsh friction that you lose yourself to. He watches, his heart racing, you taking your pleasure for yourself.

It isn't as though you've never done this in front of him – he remembers, blurry, the aftermath of a dinner date that had seen you riding his thigh on the couch, still in your dress.

But this… This feels different.

There's an urgency to this, a franticness running beneath your skin that pushes your hips down harder, more unforgiving. Your face screws up, salt misting your cheeks and neck.

For a moment, Jason almost feels as though he's the one that's been hit. You take on a blurry quality, smudged around the edges like wet paint, wanton, hazy. A gauzy film over his eyes, he blinks, and blinks.

When you come once more, it shatters and he's aware of the stain that's bled into the dark denim on his thigh, a stickiness that's smeared between your thighs. Your panties are ruined and he gulps when he drags his gaze up from between your legs to your face.

Quiet, hungry, you're already staring at him. Your chest heaves with exertion but you remain still otherwise, lips parting in invitation, eyes half-lidded.

"Baby–"

"You said you'd take care of me," you intone beseeching, voice affecting a trembling, delicate quality.

Fuck.

He's never been good at denying you much. Already, he feels the urge to take you into his arms and promise to make it better, but he forces his hand to stay, curling his fingers in the bedsheets.

You crawl forward, until your lips are ghosting over his, eyes swallowing his field of vision until all he can see are the stars in your irises. He feels the

"Jason, please, it still hurts," you whimper quietly, a wounded noise that carves him from the inside out, guilt and shame poisoning his every nerve. He's at war with himself, wanting to ease your pain – he feels responsible for it, in a way – and hesitating similarly. Is this right? Is it okay?

Before he can come up with an answer, you press your mouth to his.

The last of his inhibitions crumbles completely under the plush of your mouth.

He rolls the both of you over, relishing in the gasp you let out, the sight of you splayed against the mattress. He's quick to divest himself of his clothes, tugging his shirt off recklessly, not minding the sound of ripping fabric he vaguely registers hearing. The jeans go next, and his underwear in one, flung to some corner of the bedroom.

Your spit slick mouth curves up into a delighted, drunken smile when he crawls over you, body eclipsing yours with every intent of ravishing you.

Jason holds himself up with one hand, the other reaching to the bedside table and rummaging in the drawer for the box he keeps there. Only, he comes up short and dread dawns over him in a cold wave when he remembers –

He'd used the last of the condoms a few nights ago. It hadn't mattered in the last couple of days, the weekend too busy for the both of you to do much else but curl up next to each other, too exhausted to consider working up a sweat.

"Fuck," he whispers, shaking. "Fuck, baby, there aren't, um…"

Your eyes fill with tears at the unfinished sentence, a hiccuped sob stuttering out of your chest.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he tries to soothe you, a hand smoothing down your face. "I'll just – I'll run to the store, I'll be back before you know it."

"No, please, just–" Watery eyed and upset, you tug him closer as though fearing he'll take off. "I don't care, I don't, I just – I need you, Jason. Please."

He stares at you, heart thundering in his ears. "Fuck you without –"

"Need you now," you whimper, lips tugging down pitifully into a pout that cuts through his chest.

It isn't as though this is his first time fucking you raw –

Tipsy laughter, hushed whispers of it's fine, just once, we'll get the morning after pill.

– but still. This is different, another ballpark entirely.

You stare up at him, desperation in every crease and curve of your face, pleading with him. Too far gone to care, you beg him.

"I'll, um," he rasps out, throat dry, "I'll pull out."

You make some sort of noise that sounds like a vague affirmation, tugging him closer hastily. Poor, pretty girl. His chest aches at the sight of you, needy, looking to him to fix it.

"I'll fix it," he finds himself muttering, lining himself up with your entrance. You've similarly taken to murmuring under your breath, hands carding through his hair, devotion in your every touch.

"Need you so bad, please, please, baby."

The slick that smears against his head, the soft warmth of you, nearly makes his eyes roll back into his head. A drawn out whimper spills from your lips at the press of his hips, the first inches of him pushing into your tight heat.

You sink into the mattress as he notches himself further inside, mouth opening. You paint an obscene picture, your lips bitten raw, naked chest arched. He lowers his head to mouth at your nipples, teeth teasing at the sensitive points. You're warm, so warm beneath him – around him.

He's given only a moment to breathe before you push your hips up, impatient. Fucking yourself against him, your fingers dig into the muscle of his back for leverage, tucking him close enough to you that he brushes against your neck and tastes the salt on your skin.

Jason sets a harried pace, bucking forward against you. You begin to cry out again, every resounding slap of his skin against yours drawing out a moan that curls tight around him and presses down on his stomach. You exchange panted breaths between open mouthed kisses, tongues and teeth clashing messily, muffled pleas that beg for more, more, more.

Filthy, debauched, it doesn't take very long for you to approach your peak. Jason, lost in the wetness of your cunt, feels his own building and knows this is a dangerous game he's playing, toeing the line of recklessness.

"Close," he pants, feeling the tell-tale fluttering of you around him, your orgasm imminent. If he can just hold out until he's gotten you there –

Your legs wrap around him, hold so tight he's not able to do much more than rock against you in desperate, quick rolls of his hips.

"Inside," you warble. Your hands come to cradle his head, coaxing him down to kiss you, licking up into his mouth sweetly, teeth catching on his bottom lip. "Mmh, please, baby? Please? I – Jason – want it so bad, need you inside."

"Oh fuck," he gasps, voice hitching, breath stuttering. His face creases, overcome, and you grin, dazed, drunken, pulling him into another sloppy kiss. What's he to do?

You scream into his mouth at the same time that Jason comes. His vision whitens at the sensation of your pulsing heat, the unforgiving tightening that demands his orgasm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips, burying himself to the hilt and surrendering to your claim.

Warm and wet around him, the evidence of his debauchery coats the inside of your thighs and clings to the base of him. He's light-headed, a little winded, and it takes him a moment to gather his sensibilities. When he looks down, he finds you a boneless puddle beneath him, eyelids fluttering tiredly.

He should pull out. He knows he ought to – but he's broken so many rules, what's another? Jason gathers you in his arms and rolls over gently, tucking you against his chest, a hand skimming up and down the length of your spine comfortingly.

"Fuck," he whispers out into the air, and you murmur atop him. He glances down, meeting your bleary eyes. "Y'just had to go and get caught in that crossfire, huh?"

"N'my fault," you grumble, pressing your face back into his chest.

"Gonna give me a heart attack," he grumbles, dropping a kiss to your crown. Then, with a look over at the bedside table, he jostles you a bit. "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We still have to get you the antidote."

"Wake me when 's ready," is your answer, tone somehow managing a prissiness unexpected of someone who'd just been fucked to within an inch of their life, and he drops his head back into the pillows, incredulous.

This girl would be the death of him.

first kinktober 2024 fic let's go!! i genuinely didn't think i was going to be able to commit to kinktober this year (i'm still nervous about whether i'll be able to) because finals are literally just around the corner and i'm stressing. but hopefully you enjoyed the first installment to this year's kinktober and the coming ones don't disappoint, either!

[dragoneyelashart]

cam girl r

smut ୨ৎ

the apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of the ring light warming the edge of the room. golden hour lingers just outside the window, casting long shadows that stretch across the bed. you pull the soft robe tighter around your body, letting the fabric slip just enough to hint at the lace beneath — not a full reveal, just a whisper.

you glance at the mirror. cheeks a little flushed, lips slightly parted. everything is in place — not perfect, but intentionally undone. you’ve done this enough to know what works. what draws them in.

your laptop sits open on the nightstand, the soft chime of a notification pulling your gaze toward the screen. the platform is quiet for now — a few usernames idling, waiting. it’s early, but they always show up when you do. anticipation is its own kind of magnet.

you adjust your camera, the soft click of focus making your breath catch for no good reason. the lens feels like an eye — always watching, always wanting. but tonight, something feels different. there's a certain charge in the air. your skin hums with it.

a new message appears, brief and unread. the username is familiar. too familiar.

coochiedestroyer5: “i bet you’re already aching. am i right?”

you blink, the message a quiet strike to your composure. your fingers hover over the keyboard, then pull away. no response. not yet. your heart thuds once, hard. it's not the message — it’s the sender. the way they always seem to know exactly when you’re unraveling.

you settle onto the bed, one knee drawn up, the robe slipping a little more than you'd meant. the timer ticks down, and the chat room begins to fill. emojis. tips. greetings. usual names, usual rhythms.

but your eyes keep flicking back to one name. one message.

and beneath it all, the slow, certain thrum of something beginning.

the warm glow from your ring light spills across your skin as you settle onto your bed, the soft folds of your robe slipping, teasingly loose at the waist. the dark red lace beneath clings tightly, framing you perfectly, betraying the small slick patch blooming between your legs despite the cool air.

your fingers ghost over the smooth fabric of your thigh, lips curved in a practiced, innocent smile — but you know better. you’re anything but innocent.

your camera clicks on, and the chat flares alive instantly. the familiar flood of usernames, emojis, and tokens scrolls by, each one a heartbeat in this intimate, electric dance. you’re the star of this private world.

“hi, babies,” you purr softly, voice honey-smooth. “missed me?”

the responses come fast and eager.

toydaddy47: “missed you so much, princess. show us those pretty tits.”

sirhandsalot: “been hard all day. wanna see you touch yourself, babygirl.”

you giggle, voice thick with teasing as your hand slips beneath the robe, fingers tracing the lace along your hip. running teasingly up and down your body. “maybe i’ll show you... if you ask nicely. highest bidder gets a private show.” hundreds of tokens get sent in. 100 tokens, 3,000 tokens, 5,000 tokens each equivalent to a couple hundred dollars.

then, the name that makes your breath hitch blinks on the screen: coochiedestroyer5. 750,000 tokens.

a message appears, slow and deliberate, cutting through the noise like a whip.

coochiedestroyer5: “you’re not in charge tonight, babygirl. open your legs wider for daddy.”

you freeze, a delicious jolt crawling through your veins. the other viewers keep chatting — some clueless, some watching you closely — but your eyes lock on her words. the way she commands you, so sure, so controlling, it strips your practiced tease down to trembling nerves.

you tilt your head, biting your lip just so. “look who decided to speak. you like watching me try to stay in control, huh?”

coochiedestroyer5: “i love watching you fail to stay in control with wet thighs and a shaking voice. now, slide those panties down. slow.”

your fingers obey, trembling as you peel the lace off your hips, exposing skin slick and shining under the soft light. the chat explodes — tips and emojis flooding the screen, fans begging for more.

empressk: “show us that pussy, baby. let us see you dripping.”

toydaddy47: “god, she’s soaking through those panties.”

your breath hitches, hips shifting instinctively as your fingers find your folds, sliding slow and teasing beneath the fabric.

coochiedestroyer5: “say it. tell me who made you this wet.”

your voice breaks, barely a whisper. “i’m wet because of you.”

a hush falls over the chat, the tension palpable.

sirhandsalot: “holy fuck.”

coochiedestroyer5: “now rub that needy little clit. but don’t you dare cum until i say. i want to hear you beg.”

your hand circles the sensitive bundle with trembling pressure. you try to keep your voice steady, but it cracks with desperate need.

“please, daddy,” you whimper, “please can i cum? i’m so close — please, please—”

your moans slip out, breathy and broken.

coochiedestroyer5: “louder. beg like you mean it.”

the line between control and surrender shatters as you cry out, trembling with the force of your release, hips bucking against your hand.

your fingers slick and trembling, you lick them clean — eyes glued to the screen where her name still shines bright, the only thing that ever matters. ding! 500,000 tokens sent.

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonneilish @chrissv4mp @too-sapphic-to-function | send an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[manonssunset]

"UNWRAP ME"

pairing: huh yunjin x fem!reader

synopsys: yunjin mentioned she has a special christmas surprise waiting for you. when you arrived at home, you were surprised to find out that the special gift was her, seated beneath the christmas tree, ready for you to "unwrap" her.

warnings/tags: language, smut, nsfw content under the cut, established relationship, service top!reader, yunjin is the one giving commands, lingerie, dry humping (thigh riding)

wc: +3,4k

a/n: happy new year, guys! this is my special (super late) gift for you all, also first time posting something like this on the blog. I hope you find it hot, lol. this took me longer than expected, but I’m satisfied with the way it turned out. I reduced the smut part substantially because, honestly, you would have had to wait another 10 days to read it, bye 💀. but I still wrote almost 600 words of just them kissing, so there's that.

working through christmas was always quiet and a bit annoying, with clients constantly bragging about their exotic holiday plans or the luxurious gifts they were preparing to buy. but the truth was, you had no reason to feel envious. after all, you had the most priceless gift of all: yunjin, the kind of girl most could only wish for. 

the sharp ding of your phone’s notification pulled you out of your thoughts. it was a sudden interruption, cutting through the steady rhythm of clicking fingers on keyboards, sounds that were all too familiar in the office. you glanced at the screen, expecting to see an email or maybe a quick reminder from a colleague. instead, your gaze fell on a message from your girlfriend. she often checked in on you while you worked, and you always found it endearing. 

this time, however, the message wasn’t the usual question about how work was going or a casual mention of what she was making for dinner. no, this one felt entirely different.

[jen💋] your special gift is waiting for you under the tree, please get home as soon as you can ;) 

(05:46 p.m.)

[you] 10 minutes and I'm out

(05:48 p.m.)

the message felt playful, almost teasing, and you were thrilled at the thought of what awaited you at home. she had mentioned before that she had something special prepared just for you, a gift that, in her words, you were going to absolutely love, said in that sensual tone of hers that always left your head spinning. to say you were eager to find out what she meant was an understatement.

-♧-

your hand trembled slightly as you gripped the keys to your shared apartment, anticipation rising with every turn of the metal. when the door finally clicked open, the soothing scent of vanilla and wood greeted you, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. as you stepped inside, you were immediately struck by an unexpected darkness in the room, the only light coming from the flickering glow of candles scattered around the space.

the silence was unnerving, an absence that made you pause. the only sound was the occasional crackle of the candles, yet it felt like something, or someone, was missing. yunjin’s presence, which you had so eagerly anticipated, wasn’t there to greet you as you had expected. she had promised to show you the long-awaited gift she’d been teasing you about all week, and yet, there was no sign of her.

your gaze instinctively shifted to the bottom of the christmas tree, and for a moment, you froze. your heart skipped a beat, and it took a second for your mind to catch up with what your eyes were seeing. she was there, wearing a black silk robe, held together with a red rope tied into a bow, like some kind of living present waiting just for you. the light from the candles reflected off the fabric, giving her an almost ethereal glow. she lay on the carpet, looking up at you with an inviting, seductive gaze.

your breath caught up in your throat, and for a brief second, you weren't sure if you should move closer or stay rooted in place. you gulped as you stood still, speechless, completely captivated by the sight before you. “you're finally home, I've been waiting for you” you felt your knees weaken at the tone of her voice, filled with control and sensuality. you couldn’t form a response, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment to be able to articulate anything.

she rose with grace, and, as she closed the distance between you two, each of her steps were accompanied by heels tapping against the floor. It was as though a muse was walking towards you, her hips swaying from side to side with an elegant, almost hypnotic confidence. your heartbeat quickened as she got closer, and instinctively, you started taking steps back, your senses heightened, your mind a mix of conflicting emotions. part of you wanted to ask what was happening, but another part was curious to see where this moment would lead.

the back of your legs collided with the couch, and you suddenly felt cornered, with nowhere to go, no escape from her approaching presence. a sly smirk tugged at her lips as she closed the distance, gently pushing you to sit down. the coldness of the cushions on your skin contrasted sharply with the warmth spreading inside you. your gazes locked, and in that instant, the desire in her eyes was so intense it felt almost magnetic, drawing you in, making you want to lose yourself in her and everything she embodied.

she positioned herself comfortably on your lap, her movements slow, milky legs peeking out from beneath the robe. it was then that you noticed the meticulous attention she had paid to her makeup, each detail enhancing her beauty. she had even chosen your favorite perfume, a sweet vanilla scent that perfectly complemented the fragrance of the candles. it was clear now that she had carefully orchestrated this moment, aiming to give you a show that you were bound to enjoy.

the sudden closeness caused heat to flood your face. the slight pressure of her body pressed against yours sent your mind into overdrive. you could feel every subtle shift of her weight, making it hard to focus on anything else that wasn’t her. your hand instinctively went to her thighs, gently massaging the soft skin that radiated warmth under your fingertips. she gently traced her fingers up your arms, the light touch sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, before placing them on top of your shoulders. 

you stilled as her face inched closer, her lips just centimetres from your ear. in this proximity, the intoxicating scent of her perfume magnified tenfold, its sweetness filling your senses and clouding your thoughts. her breath was warm against your skin as she whispered “unwrap me”, her voice drenched in the same seductive tone that never failed to unsettle and allure you in. she noticed the subtle tension in your body after her words, the air thickened, growing more charged than before. your hands slowly made their way to the ribbon, fingertips grazing the soft fabric, before you finally gripped its ends. 

you trembled as you undid the knot, the cool, soft fabric of the ribbon slipping smoothly beneath your fingers. the knot was simple but each movement felt agonizingly slow, as though time itself was stretching, drawn out by the weight of her gaze. her eyes, full of expectation, never left you, and the intensity of her look made your breath catch in your throat.

you held your breath as the ribbon finally loosened, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears. all the anticipation that had built from the moment she’d sent that text was unraveling now, piece by piece, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension hang in the air.

your eyes followed the path of her robe as it fell open, slipping off her shoulder to reveal what she had kept hidden until now. you couldn't help it when a gasp escaped your lips as you finally took in the sight before you: yunjin, all dolled up for you, wearing nothing more than a red lace set of lingerie. it accentuated her curves in a way that left your jaw slightly open, yet her elegance remained unmistakable. her set was far from tacky or overly explicit, it clung to her body with a sensuality that balanced provocativeness and sophistication. it revealed just enough, embracing her shape while maintaining a sense of grace and modesty. 

the warm, golden hues of the room bathed her exposed skin, creating a soft, radiant glow. she resembled a living version of venus, as if she had stepped out of a renaissance painting, one that belonged in a museum. arousal swept through you as a tingling sensation began to rise. the tightness that had formed in your stomach spread lower, a pulsing ache that clouded your mind with lust. it was clear that the feeling was mutual. the intensity of her gaze and the way her eyes locked with yours was a telltale sign that she was consumed too by the same need. her restless shifting, searching for the friction she desperately craved, also spoke volume.

she broke the silence with a question, her voice quieter, tinged with an unexpected hint of uncertainty. “do you like it?” despite your obvious reaction, she still sought confirmation, her usual confidence momentarily slipping. “jen, I don't think you understand how much I love it,” you said, almost baffled by her question. it wasn’t just about the lingerie, although it was stunning, it was everything she had done for this moment, all the care and effort she had put into it, just for you. and above all, it was her, the most important person for you. “thank you, baby,” she replied, her seductive tone returning as she cupped your face with both hands and leaned closer. “now, let’s get to the good part.”

her lips crashed against yours with urgency, the relentlessness evident in the way she yanked you closer, her fingers gripping the back of your head, anchoring themselves in your hair. the contact was frantic, as if she couldn't get enough of you. she tilted her head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss as you let your hands roam her body freely, your fingers caressing her skin before resting on her waist. there was a raw desperation in the way she kissed you, as if she was trying to devour you; her longing for you was unmistakable, like she could no longer keep it contained.

the way her lips moved with yours was soothing, the warmth of her skin sinking deep into you, making everything else fade away. your bodies were so close, it was almost as if you were breathing each other in, each subtle movement heightening the feeling of intimacy. the kiss was the physical manifestation of the desire you had both been hiding, the need to feel every part of each other becoming almost overwhelming. it wasn't anymore just about meeting lips, it was about being intertwined, your bodies pressing against each other in perfect harmony. 

you both pulled away briefly, her breath was ragged and shallow, a soft whimper escaping her as you squeezed the flesh of her ass. you both lingered there, a brief pause from the intensity of the session, both of your lips slightly parted as you caught your breath, chest rising and falling in sync. her pupils were dilated, a hint of something in her eyes, an unspoken impulse that was being held back, waiting to be released. you heard her mumble a quiet “fuck it” and before you could even register her words, she tugged you forward by the collar of your shirt, your lips making contact again. 

her tongue ran gently over your lips, applying pressure as a silent invitation to enter. you granted her request, allowing her muscle to invade your mouth, lightly sucking on it. she let out a surprised gasp at the sensation, her fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your button up shirt. as you massaged your tongues together in a gentle but intense dance, teeth clicking and saliva exchanging, your hands returned around her waist, pressing into the softness of her skin. you carefully bit her bottom lip, drawing it between yours as you continued sucking. it was all too much for her, the sensation was overwhelming, and her control slowly slipped away.

she began grinding on your lap as you were still kissing, her body moving effortlessly as she chased her own pleasure. you guided her hips and pressed her down further more, and she let out little, desperate gasps every time your lips parted to allow oxygen in. you couldn't lie and say that yunjin using you as a way to get off didn't turn you on, the sensation was electrifying, and you felt your own desire seep through your panties, soaking them. 

“mmph–ahh, jesus—” her sweet moans were muffled by your lips, creating a delicious symphony that reverberated in the confines of your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. the rough fabric of your work pants against her thin panties generated the ideal friction on her clit, making her mind go fuzzy. her hands roamed aimlessly, grasping and gripping whatever lay within reach: the fabric of your shirt, your arms, the back of your neck, your hair, and so on. she was riding your thigh so desperately it was almost cinematic: erratically moving her hips, grinding down, attempting to rub every time on the same perfect spot that gave her immense pleasure.

the room was starting to feel too hot for you. the heat from the candles, but especially from the union of your two bodies so close together, was becoming unbearable, so you decided to break the kiss to remove some of your clothing. after you delicately pushed yunjin back, allowing her body to rest on your legs, your eyes widened in surprise at the sight before you. it was beautiful; a clear, glassy strand of saliva was still connecting the two of you, a quiet reminder of your closeness. she was about to whine at the loss of contact when she also realized what she was seeing, and a small genuine smile tugged at her lips. 

you took advantage of the quiet moment to finally contemplate your girlfriend’s physical state: her face had a subtle pink flush that still peeped through even under her makeup, her lips were a strong red color that matched her lingerie, and they were quite swollen, an evident consequence of the kissing. her eyes were like a window to the multitude of emotions that pervaded her: delight, confidence, a bit of frustration, and, above all, desire. as your gaze moved lower down her body, you spotted a wet patch on her underwear; the fabric turned a much darker shade of red, and you wanted nothing more than to get a taste of the source of that change.

she noticed your intense stare and turned her head, flustered. “stop staring at me like that,” she said softly, her voice pulling you out of your trance as you felt her left hand brush over the skin of your face, settling on your jaw. in that moment, all your focus was on her. “no, but seriously,” she started, her tone firm like she needed you to be serious with her. “why did you stop?” her question was accompanied by a tiny pout, which made you smile, her frustration evident in her puppy-like features. you let out a slight chuckle in response, placing your hand over hers as a sign of reassurance. 

“I was honestly just too hot and wanted to take my shirt off,” you truthfully replied with a grin, finding the simplicity of your answer pretty amusing. as the words left your mouth, her pout melted away into a smile, mirroring yours. underlying her happiness though, she felt a tingling sensation begin to rise, a silent excitement at seeing you without your shirt. “do that then,” you caught her need by the urgency of her command and by the way she looked at you, as if she had already taken your shirt off with her eyes. you were more than happy to comply, gradually undoing all of your buttons just to tease her.

her whole demeanor was full of anticipation, she had folded her hands diligently on her lap while she watched you do your thing. as you slowly stripped for her, dragging out all of your movements since you knew it would turn her on more, she spotted your sculpted abs and your muscular arms, finally free of your shirt. the sight hit her all at once, causing her thighs to impulsively clench around yours and her hips to buck into the air.

heat flooded her face as she blushed in embarrassment, her reaction an obvious indication of her neediness; her head dropped into the crook of your now fully exposed neck, as if she was trying to hide from you. she took advantage of the closeness to inhale the scent your body. it was a mix of the aquatic and musky fragrance you used at work, one she could never resist whenever you wore it, mingled with the natural, comforting aroma of your skin. this mixture was fatal for yunjin, the scent did unspeakable things to her, her already soaked panties now starting to leave a wet spot on your own pants, and she was growing more desperate with each second that passed.

you were quick to detect it, knowing exactly what she was craving for in that moment, taking the lead for the first time that night. “come on, ride my thigh,” you ordered as you patted your right leg, knowing that having just one of your thighs between her legs would cause her far more friction than simply rocking into your lap. the sudden switch in your tone of voice went straight to yunjin's core as more of her fluids gushed out. she weakly nodded and stood on her trembling knees, holding onto your bare shoulders and submissively following your order. you gripped her waist to keep her stable as she moved over to your thigh, carefully positioning herself. 

“fuck!” she exclaimed when you suddenly pulled her down onto your leg with force, the unexpected contact with her sensitive clit causing her to gasp loudly in response. her face contorted with pleasure as she began riding your thigh, her hips moving like waves, crashing and withdrawing in a rhythmic pattern. “oh–oh my god,” she moaned beautifully, letting out melodic sounds with each movement of her hips. “this feels so good,” the pleasure she was experiencing led her eyes to close tightly and her mouth to open. 

“good girl, keep moving,” you purred into her ear as your hands dragged her back and forth. her brain short-circuited at the name you gave her: she squirmed on top of you, her hips stuttering as a familiar sensation started to build inside her. she mewled in response; the commanding, dominant yunjin who had left you flustered just minutes ago was now a moaning mess under your touch. “ah— god” she threw her head back as she felt your thigh twitch and stiffen beneath her, providing the perfect solidity against her clit. 

as she continued to hump, your hands left her waist and slowly worked their way up to her chest, not without lightly scratching her skin, causing a burning sensation to spread beneath the surface. you began massaging and caressing her tits over her bra, lazily rubbing circles with your thumbs across the fabric. just the light pressure was enough for her to feel pleasure as more lewd sounds left her mouth. so it came as no surprise that, when you exposed her nipples and pinched them with your fingers, she let out a guttural scream. “fu-fuck–please, keep— ahh— keep doing that,” she begged as you twisted and pulled her sensitive buds.

her insides started to burn, a tight knot in her low abdomen indicated that her orgasm was near. “are you close?” you asked as you noticed her movements become sloppier and her moans rising in pitch. “y-yes, I— please— please let me come.” her voice trembled as she pleaded for your permission. as much as you wanted to tease her, to push her just a little further, you couldn’t resist and granted her request. “go ahead baby,” the moment you were done speaking you felt her body still in your hands, her back arched and her head thrown back. her vision faded to black as she reached her climax, a wave of pleasure washing over her as she cried out a mixture of curse words and little “thank you”s.

she collapsed into your arms, her body was now a limp weight pressed against your chest. her head nestled against your neck, her eyes closed as she focused on regaining the stable rhythm of her breath. you gently stroked her hair as a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you, the only sounds being the soft crackle of the candles and her breathing. the warmth of her body pressed against yours was like a gentle caress, a comforting embrace that made you melt into your seat. “can we stay like this for a bit?” she asked softly, her voice hoarse from all the moaning, and her arms tightened around you as she clung to your torso. “of course,” you replied, leaning your head over hers and caressing her back, savoring the closeness. “whatever you want.”

a/n: oof, this one was really long to write, I'm so sorry for the wait, guys, hope you like it!

[lloveboo]

ALL THE WAYS WE BURN - a Kim Mingyu fanfic

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader, ceo!mingyu x employee!reader

genre: office romance, sexual tension, yearning, heavy angst, slow burn

next chapter: Under His Gaze

Chapter One – A New Beginning

The glass facade of Kim Architecture stretched high into the clear sky with it's sleek panels reflecting the soft morning sun. I stood at the entrance, gripping onto the strap of my bag, my stomach was twisting with nerves.

This was it. The first step toward everything I had worked for.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Charlotte: Good luck today, sis! You’re going to be amazing. I’m so proud of you. Love you!

A small, grateful smile tugged at my lips.

Me: Love you too, Char. I’ll tell you all about it later.

Charlotte, my little sister had always believed in me—even when I struggled to have faith in myself. This job wasn’t just about me; it was about us, about finally moving forward.

I took a steadying breath and stepped inside.

The cool air of the lobby hit me first, followed by the quiet hum of conversation and the sharp clicks of heels against marble. The employees moved with such purpose that exuded such confidence which made me feel like I was an outsider in their world.

“Miss Nova?”

I turned at the sound of my name, coming face-to-face with a woman who carried herself with effortless authority. She was strikingly tall, with dark eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Her heels clicked with each step while her chestnut hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders.

I recognized her instantly.

“Miss Lila,” I said, straightening.

“You remember me,” she noted, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Good. I interviewed so many candidates I almost lost track.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Hard to forget an interview that made me this anxious.”

Lila chuckled, then gestured for me to follow. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As we walked, she explained the office layout, the different departments, key people to remember, and where to get the best coffee. Which was not from the break room, apparently.

We reached an open workspace where rows of desks stretched before us, occupied by employees engrossed in their screens or engaged in quiet discussions.

“This is you,” Lila said, stopping at a desk near the floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s not much now, but trust me, once you get into the rhythm of things, this place will feel like home.”

I slid my bag onto the desk, taking it all in. It was a simple setup, a sleek computer, a keyboard, a neatly stacked pile of documents —but to me, it was everything.

Lila glanced at me, her expression softening slightly. “You’ll be fine. Just do the work, pay attention, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. You’re here for a reason.”

I let those words settle deep in my chest.

I hoped she was right.

The next few days blurred together as I adjusted to my new role.

I spent mornings navigating spreadsheets and reports, gradually learning the unspoken rules of corporate life. The break room quickly became a familiar retreat, where I found myself easing into casual conversations with colleagues.

“First-day horror stories, go,” Lila prompted one afternoon, stirring her coffee.

“I spilled tea on my manager’s desk,” one coworker admitted.

“I called the CEO by the wrong name,” another groaned.

I raised a brow. “You’re still here?”

“He found it funny,” they replied.

Lila smirked. “Mr Kim doesn’t care about stuff like that. As long as you’re competent, he barely notices you exist.”

I blinked at the name. Mr Kim.

I had seen him around.

Noticing him.

I mean it was impossible not to notice him.

Kim Mingyu moves through the office with an air of quiet authority, that his presence commands even when he wasn’t speaking. Tall, broad-shouldered, always dressed in sleek, in perfectly tailored suits. His expression always unreadable, his focus being razor-sharp.

I had watched him in passing—discussing figures with the finance team, reviewing blueprints with the senior architects. He never lingered, never wasted words.

I saw him laugh once, a brief chuckle at something a senior manager had said, and even that felt rare, like catching a glimpse of something not meant to be seen.

But he never looked my way.

And that was fine.

Three days in, as I was finishing up my work for the evening, Lila appeared at my desk and dropped a thick stack of documents in front of me.

“Can you do me a favor?”

I glanced up, already wary. “Depends.”

Lila chucked. “I need you to sit in for me at tomorrow’s project meeting. I’ll try to make it, but if I’m late, just take notes.”

I stiffened. “Wait—you want me to cover for you?”

“You’ll be fine,” Lila said breezily. “Just observe, stay sharp, and who knows? Maybe you’ll learn something useful.”

I swallowed unsure but still nodded.

That night, I sat at my tiny table desk at mine and Charlotte's apartment, surrounded by documents and notes, highlighting key points and scribbling in the margins.

I didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow would change everything.

The next morning, smells of toasted bread and coffee filled our tiny apartment as I flipped through my notes again, my pen tapping against the page. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was almost time to go. My stomach twisted in nerves.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that paper,” Charlotte teased, sliding two plates of scrambled eggs and toast onto the table.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “I just want to be prepared. This is my first big meeting, and I’m filling in for someone way more experienced than me. What if I screw up?”

“You won’t.” Charlotte sat across from me, propping her chin in her hand. “You always do this. Overthink, stress, then absolutely crush it.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile tugged at my lips. “I hope you’re right.”

She pointed her fork at me. “I am right. And if you impress your boss, maybe you’ll get promoted faster, and then we can finally move into one of those fancy high-rise apartments you’re always obsessing over.”

I huffed a small laugh. “One step at a time, Char.”

Charlotte shrugged. “I’m just saying, you’re kind of a genius, and they’d be stupid not to see that.”

Something in my chest warmed.

“Thanks,” I murmured, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’ll do my best.”

Charlotte smiled. “You always do.”

The tube rattled as I gripped the pole, running through everything I had memorised the night before. The key points, the numbers, the small details that could set my idea apart.

This was my chance.

A high-stakes meeting. Executives. A vice CEO. And—of course—him.

Mingyu.

I’d seen him around the office. Heard the way people spoke about him. Respected, ambitious, incredibly intelligent. But cold. Calculated.

We hadn’t spoken yet.

He hadn’t even acknowledged me.

But maybe that was about to change.

The conference room was sleek and modern, floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the far wall giving a breathtaking view of the city. But I had barely noticed. My hands rested neatly in my lap, my mind sharply focused.

The room filled quickly, conversations buzzing—high-ranking executives taking their seats, the vice CEO flipping through his notes.

Then, everything shifted.

The door opened, and the air grew heavier.

I felt it before I even saw him.

Mingyu walked in, his dark suit fitting him perfectly, exuding power without even trying. He didn’t say a word, yet the room responded to him instantly. Loud conversations quieted. People straightened in their seats.

I kept my posture composed, but my pulse quickened.

For the next few minutes, discussions passed over my head. Numbers, projections—until we reached the project I had spent hours studying last night.

Mingyu’s voice was smooth, deep. “There are inefficiencies in the current layout. We need a solution that maximizes space without increasing costs.”

Silence stretched across the table.

I swallowed.

I wasn’t supposed to speak. This wasn’t my place.

But the answer was right there. Clear as day.

I took a breath.

“If we modify the structural framework to incorporate more lightweight materials,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “we can maintain durability while cutting down on costs. It would also allow for a more open design, which aligns with the project’s vision.”

The room turned to me.

My throat went dry.

Then, finally—finally—he looked at me.

His gaze was unreadable. Dark. Sharp.

Assessing.

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

“Explain,” he said.

It wasn’t a dismissal.

It was a challenge.

I met his eyes and pushed forward, breaking down my reasoning, referencing research, calculations, every fact I had spent hours memorizing.

I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stutter one bit.

By the time I finished, silence settled over the table.

Then—Mingyu nodded. Just once.

“That’s a good approach,” he said simply. “We’ll look into it.”

The meeting moved on, but I barely heard the rest.

Because for the first time since I started working here— I wasn’t invisible to him anymore.

And something told me—this was only the beginning.

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

rockstar sevika x influencer reader

Chapter 10: Family Reunion

summary : (y/n) takes sevika to her annual family reunion.

mentions : homophobia, lil angst, angry sevika, competitive sevika, drunk sevika, fame au, modern au, happy ending, time skip, fast paced beginning, sevika being a passenger princess, domestic sevika

notes: last chapter yall…😔 just a psa it’s been a total of 5 1/2 months (y/n) and Sevika have been together after the end

You were seated in first class, but the quiet wasn’t comforting—it felt strange, almost unsettling, after weeks of chaos. No Caitlyn lightly humming a tune while tapping out a melody on her keyboard. No Jinx banging out a rhythm on any surface she could find, nor Vi throwing mock punches into the air while Sevika teased her with bass riffs. It was just you now, left to your thoughts and the buzzing emptiness.

You leaned back, headphones over your ears, but even the music didn’t drown out the vivid memories. Watching them all on stage had been electric: Vi’s commanding voice tearing through the air as her fingers shredded the guitar strings, Jinx drumming like she was setting the world on fire, and Sevika—wild and untamed—plucking her bass with enough intensity to send the crowd into a frenzy. Caitlyn was the calm amidst the chaos, playing her keys and singing backing vocals with a steady, elegant precision that balanced the energy of the others.

You missed it all: the long road trips, the ridiculous banter, the post-show exhilaration, and of course, Sevika—completely in her element, sweating and grinning like a maniac as the fans screamed her name. You sighed, pulling out your phone and setting up your camera on the tray table in front of you. The angle wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

After connecting your microphone to ensure the audio was crisp, you pressed record.

“Hey, guys,” you began, offering a small, tired smile. “So... this is it. I’m officially done touring with Shattered Souls. I’m back to personal bigger things and most definitely the biggest high of my career. By the time I post this video, they’ll still be out there, tearing it up on stage. If you can, seriously, buy a ticket to the nearest city. Watching them live is something else. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

You paused, the faint hum of the airplane filling the silence as you gathered your thoughts.

“I just wanna say, before I close this video off, that I had the time of my life with them. They are genuine, talented, and absolutely insane—in the best way possible. They love their fans, they love their music, and they give it everything they’ve got every single night.

“Honestly, when Caitlyn first messaged me asking if I wanted to collab with her band, I thought it was a terrible idea.” You laughed, shaking your head at the memory. “But it turned out to be the best mistake of my life. Because of that, I met Sevika, and I love her so much. Like... a ridiculous amount.”

The smile on your face softened as the emotions bubbled up.

“I’ve also grown to connect with all of them like family. Vi’s chaotic energy, Jinx being, well, Jinx, Caitlyn’s calm genius... and Sevika—who’s somehow even crazier on stage than Vi and Jinx combined. These people have become such an important part of my life, and I know I’ll keep that connection with them.

“If you haven’t checked them out or their music yet, their Spotify link will, of course, be below along with their Instagrams. Go give them a listen. Seriously, do it.”

You took a deep breath, letting your smile linger a little longer.

“And, uh, yeah... this is your favorite YouTuber logging off. Until next time.”

You stopped the recording, turning off the microphone on your phone. The screen went blank, but your thoughts raced. You missed them already—missed the energy, the madness, the shared moments of triumph after a show. But this wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself. It was just the beginning of a new chapter.

Leaning back into your seat, you closed your eyes, the faint echoes of their last performance still buzzing in your ears. You couldn’t wait for the moment you’d reunite, and until then, you’d hold onto every memory like a lifeline.

“Yes, Sevika, I am on the way,” you grumbled into the phone as you slid into the driver’s seat and started your car. It had been a whole month since you’d last seen Sevika and the others. A long month. During that time, your last video blew up, garnering millions of views and likes. That kind of exposure turned every one of Shattered Souls’ remaining shows into sold-out events. Their managers even had to add repeat shows in certain states due to the overwhelming demand, raking in even more cash.

You adjusted your AirPods as Sevika’s voice came through, teasing you about having to get up so early. “Oh, like it’s my fault you booked the first flight out,” you shot back, exasperated but grinning nonetheless. She had insisted on an early flight to see you as soon as possible, leaving the others to return on their usual schedule.

You glanced down at yourself as you hit the road, slightly embarrassed by your appearance. A ramen-stained shirt, baggy sweatpants, and mismatched Crocs—whatever you’d found in the rush out the door. “I swear, I look like I just rolled out of bed,” you muttered, though Sevika didn’t seem to care.

As you drove, she kept the conversation light, her laughter filling the silence in between. “Did you have to book such an early flight, ba—OH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, WHO TOLD YOU TO GO?!” you yelled, slamming on the brakes as a car cut you off.

The sound of Sevika laughing uproariously came through your AirPods, and you could practically hear the smirk on her face. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?” she teased.

You grumbled under your breath, trying to focus on the road as you neared the airport. “Ugh… I’m parking now. Come out—I’m in a red Camaro,” you said, glancing for an empty spot.

“I think I know what your car looks like,” Sevika replied dryly. “You’ve sent me about a hundred photos of it since you bought it.”

“Well, excuse me for being proud of my baby,” you retorted, cutting the engine. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you waited, watching the revolving doors of the terminal. The anticipation of seeing her again after so long was starting to make your heart race.

A few minutes later, you spotted her walking toward the car, looking impossibly good even after an early morning flight. “Finally,” you sighed as she opened the passenger door and slid in.

“Took you long enough,” Sevika teased, leaning over to plant a kiss on your temple.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, a soft smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. Seeing her again made the whole chaotic morning worth it.

The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds as you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. It was another busy day ahead, but the real challenge was getting Sevika out of bed. After another long night exploring new... territories in your sex life, she was completely passed out, her arm draped over her face as if shielding herself from any obligations.

Sevika had been bouncing between your house and hers for months now. Between her schedule and your own packed calendar, your time together felt fleeting. Since your influencer career had skyrocketed, luxury brands were constantly reaching out to have you model for their campaigns. You’d even graced a few runways, though so far, only in Los Angeles. Despite your hectic modeling gigs, you always found time to vlog, keeping your followers engaged and rooting for your success.

Once dressed, you glanced at Sevika sprawled on the bed. She was still deep in sleep, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as if she was dreaming about something—probably last night. Rolling your eyes, you walked over and leaned down, brushing your lips against hers until she stirred.

“Mmm,” she groaned, cracking one eye open to see you. A sleepy smile tugged at her face before she pulled you down for another kiss.

“Wake up,” you said against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak. “We’ve gotta be in New York by noon.”

She groaned again, flopping back dramatically as you straightened up and grabbed the suitcases you both had packed the night before. Dragging them to the bedroom door, you glanced over your shoulder. “Come on, Sev. I’m not breaking a nail carrying these downstairs.”

That seemed to do the trick. With a grumble and a stretch, Sevika swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered as she tugged on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, her hair still a little messy but effortlessly cool.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, watching as she hefted the suitcases with ease and carried them to the car. You followed her downstairs, doing a final mental checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten. Tomorrow was Easter, which meant a big family reunion, and you needed to be in New York by the afternoon to help with food prep, decorations, and setting up games for the kids.

Once the suitcases were securely packed in the trunk, you walked around the car to the driver’s side. “We have everything, right?” you asked, pausing before opening the door.

“Everything,” Sevika confirmed, already buckled in and leaning back in her seat.

You nodded, climbing in and starting the car. The drive to the airport wasn’t long, but the anticipation of seeing your family—and the chaos that always came with reunions—had you both a little on edge.

The private jet you’d rented was waiting for you on the tarmac, sleek and ready to whisk you both away to New York. It was a luxury you didn’t take for granted, and as you settled into the plush seats, you glanced over at Sevika. She was already dozing off again, her head resting against the window.

“Lazy,” you muttered under your breath, smiling softly. With everything you had going on, moments like these—just the two of you—were what you treasured the most.

The crisp New York air greeted you as you stepped out of the car with Sevika, luggage in tow. Your parents’ house came into view, its familiar warmth already making you smile. The front door opened before you even had a chance to knock, and your parents stood there beaming.

“Oh, welcome, Sevika!” your mother exclaimed, stepping forward to hug her tightly. Your mother wasn’t the handshake type, and neither was your father, who followed with an equally warm hug. Sevika, though a little caught off guard by their enthusiasm, accepted their hugs with a shy smile, murmuring her thanks.

“Come on in,” your dad said, motioning toward the door. “I cleaned (Y/N)’s room for you two… Well, I dusted. She’s always been good about keeping her room clean,” he added with a chuckle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, shooting him a playful grin. You turned to Sevika and gestured toward the stairs. “Sevika, you can go ahead and take the luggage up to my room. I’m sure I already need to help with the food.”

“Sure,” Sevika said, hefting the bags effortlessly. She paused for a moment. “You sure I can’t help out either?”

“You’ll have plenty to do, trust me,” you teased, patting her arm before heading toward the kitchen with your mom.

As the evening progressed, Sevika became an unofficial extra set of hands for your family. Anytime someone needed a jar opened, a can pried, or something retrieved from the highest shelf, Sevika was called upon.

“Sevika, can you open this?” your mom asked, holding out a stubborn jar of pickles.

“Sevika, can you grab that pan up there? No, no, the one way in the back,” your dad chimed in, pointing toward the top shelf.

Sevika handled each request with ease, and despite her usually intimidating demeanor, she blended in with your family as if she’d been there all along.

By the time everything was prepped and ready for the reunion, you found Sevika sitting at the kitchen counter, a slightly amused look on her face. “I told you you’d have plenty to do,” you said with a grin, handing her a glass of water.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, smirking. “I didn’t think I’d be the designated muscle for the night, though.”

Your parents laughed from across the room. “You’re a lifesaver, Sevika,” your mom said. “We might have to borrow you for every holiday!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika joked, but there was a softness in her tone, like she didn’t really mind.

You smiled, watching her interact so naturally with your family. It made you feel even more certain that she belonged here, with you, no matter how chaotic things got.

The clock had just struck midnight, and the kitchen was still bustling with activity. The counters were covered with bowls, spatulas, and a fine dusting of flour from the cakes you and your mom had been making earlier. The sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate wafted through the air as the cakes baked in the oven, their golden tops rising slowly.

You let out a long yawn, leaning against the counter as your eyelids grew heavier. “I think I’m gonna take a nap for a few hours,” you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Your dad, sitting on the couch in the living room, was deeply engrossed in an episode of Criminal Minds. Sevika was right beside him, equally locked in, her arms crossed as she stared at the screen with intense focus. Neither of them even glanced away as they replied in perfect unison, “Okay.”

Your mom, still wiping down the counters, looked over at you with a soft smile. “Of course, hun. Get plenty of sleep. I’ll finish up here.”

You gave her a small nod, your movements slow and heavy as the sleepiness really started to set in. “Good night,” you said, your voice gentle as you turned toward the living room.

“Good night,” your dad mumbled distractedly, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Night,” Sevika added, sparing you a quick glance and a small smirk before her attention returned to the unfolding crime scene on the screen.

With that, you headed upstairs, the sound of the TV faintly trailing behind you. As you climbed into your old bed, you smiled faintly at the thought of Sevika and your dad bonding over their shared love of Criminal Minds. It wasn’t long before the warmth of your blanket and the faint hum of the oven downstairs lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

When you woke up, the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen drew you out of bed. After showering and getting dressed, you headed downstairs, expecting to find your mom working on the last-minute preparations. Instead, you were met with a sight that stopped you in your tracks.

Sevika was already a thousand steps ahead of you. She stood at the counter wearing a pink apron with the word “Mommy” embroidered on it, her broad frame completely at odds with the delicate garment. Your mom was by her side, showing her how to frost the cakes that had been cooling overnight.

You leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Sevika’s muscles flexed every time she squeezed the piping bag, her large hands surprisingly gentle as she guided the frosting in smooth, even swirls across the cake’s surface. Her face was the perfect picture of concentration, her tongue sticking out just slightly as she focused on getting the perfect amount of frosting out. It was almost unfair how good she looked—domestic and strong all at once.

You couldn’t help yourself. You took out your phone and snapped a quick picture without her noticing. It was too cute not to capture. Her brows furrowed, her tongue still poking out as she worked, completely unaware of you standing there. The sight of her in that ridiculous pink apron, paired with her muscular build, was the perfect contradiction—and you were adding this to your “Sevi-bear” photo album immediately.

You grinned to yourself as you looked at the photo, already imagining teasing her about it later. But for now, you stayed quiet, content to watch her try something so completely out of her element—and excel at it, as she always did.

The family car was packed carefully, each dish delicately arranged in the trunk to avoid any spills. You and Sevika sat in the backseat with the cakes balanced on your laps, your mom driving while your dad gave directions. Sevika kept her hand steady on one of the cakes to ensure it wouldn’t slide, her other hand casually resting on your knee.

When you arrived at the reunion venue, the energy was palpable. Family members swarmed to greet you, all warm smiles and hugs. For a brief moment, some assumed Sevika was just a friend accompanying you. That assumption didn’t last long as the day unfolded.

Your little cousins were particularly fascinated by Sevika’s metal arm. A cluster of them crowded around her, asking endless questions and eagerly poking at the cool surface. She was patient with them, answering their curious questions and even flexing the arm for their amusement. “Does it hurt?” one of them asked, wide-eyed. “Not anymore,” Sevika replied, ruffling the kid’s hair with her free hand.

As more family members chatted with you, the usual questions about your career came up. You fielded inquiries about your success as an influencer, politely sidestepping the occasional fake family member who tried to slip in a request for money or a shoutout. Sevika noticed, giving you a small smirk when one particularly pushy cousin asked for free promo. You handled it gracefully, your hand squeezing Sevika’s reassuringly.

After lunch, it became clear to most of the family that Sevika wasn’t just your friend. It started with her casually wiping frosting off your cheek, the gesture intimate and tender. Some family members caught on quickly and congratulated you on finding someone who seemed to genuinely adore you. Others weren’t as supportive—chiefly your grandpa.

You hadn’t prepared Sevika for your grandfather’s homophobic tendencies, so when he began loudly hurling slurs, it caught her completely off guard. The room fell silent as Sevika’s face darkened with anger. You quickly grabbed her arm and led her outside before she could say or do something she might regret.

“I’m sorry, Sevi,” you said once you were outside, your voice trembling. “I should’ve told you about him. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sevika interrupted, her jaw tight but her voice steady. “I’ll take his words as a challenge. He’ll come around.”

Her words hung in the air, and before you could fully grasp what she meant, the evening’s adult games kicked off—and Sevika turned them into a battleground. She and your grandpa faced off in every event: drinking musical chairs, beer pong, and even an impromptu dance battle when both were too drunk to care about anything else. You stood on the sidelines, utterly baffled as your girlfriend and grandfather line-danced together like lifelong friends, the rest of the family cheering them on.

By the end of the night, your grandpa was slumped in a chair next to Sevika, both of them too drunk to stand but deep in conversation about fishing, hunting, and other pastimes you never knew Sevika had indulged in before her rockstar days. You listened quietly as they spoke, the unexpected camaraderie between them leaving you stunned.

At one point, their conversation shifted, and both pairs of eyes landed on you.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Sevika said, her voice filled with affection.

“She got the looks from her grandmother,” your grandpa replied, his words slurred but sincere. “May she rest in peace.”

“I’m gonna marry her,” Sevika announced casually, taking a sip from her beer.

Your heart stopped. “Marry my wife?” your grandfather slurred, looking utterly confused.

“No, you dumbass,” Sevika shot back with a drunken grin. “Marry your granddaughter. I’ve already got her parents’ approval, and I’ve got the ring. I just need yours, old man.”

Your eyes widened as the words sank in. Sevika was planning to propose to you? And you were finding out like this?

Your grandfather scratched his chin, pretending to mull it over. Finally, he shrugged. “Sure… why not.”

Sevika grinned triumphantly, raising her beer in a mock toast. “Good. Now you can’t take it back.”

You stood there in shock, your heart racing, as Sevika shot you a sly look. “Surprise,” she muttered, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Sevika knelt before you, the vibrant sounds of All of Me played softly in the background, the violinist swaying to each note with practiced grace. Snow glistened around the edges of the path, blending with the blooming flowers of early spring in Central Park. The people you loved most—your parents, your grandpa, your cousins, and even Sevika’s closest friends from the band, Vi, Jinx, and Caitlyn—stood nearby, beaming with anticipation.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. Sevika, the tough, confident rockstar you’d fallen in love with, now looked at you with such softness it was almost overwhelming. Her fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, trembled slightly as she held the velvet box in her hands.

“Before you say anything,” she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, “let me talk.” She took a deep breath, her stormy gray eyes locking onto yours, and you saw the vulnerability she rarely let anyone else see.

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months,” she started, a small, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. “But in those months, you’ve turned my life upside down in the best way. Touring was always the dream for me—traveling from state to state, performing for thousands of people, living that wild rockstar life. But I didn’t realize how empty it all felt until I met you.”

Your tears began to spill over as she continued, her voice growing softer.

“Every stop on tour, you made it feel like home. Whether it was late-night takeout in crappy motels or those quiet moments backstage before a show, you reminded me that life isn’t just about the music or the fame—it’s about who you share it with.”

“This place,” Sevika said, glancing around at the snowy park and the familiar gates overlooking the water, “I knew it was special to you. Your mom told me this is where your dad proposed to her. And I wanted this moment to be just as meaningful for us.”

She took a steadying breath, her voice firm as she said, “I know what I want. And what I want is you—your laughter, your humor, the way you stayed up late at night with me on FaceTime, and the way you saw past my stubbornness and taught me how to love. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. So… will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stand still as you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Sevika slipped the ring onto your finger, her hands surprisingly gentle despite their strength. She stood, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a kiss that made your heart race.

“You’re mine now,” she murmured softly against your lips, her smirk returning as the confidence you loved so much settled back into place.

“Always,” you replied, smiling as your arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

As your family and friends crowded around to congratulate you, the violinist transitioned into a celebratory tune, and Sevika looked at you like you were her entire world. And in that moment, with the love of your life holding you close, you knew that this was only the beginning of your next adventure together.

— ran out of divider space :(

SURPRISE SHAWTY EXTRAS !

Three years had passed since you and Sevika tied the knot, and not a day went by where the memories of that perfect wedding didn’t make you smile. Everything about it had been uniquely you and Sevika—the all-black theme, the gothic elegance, and the sheer joy radiating from your friends and family as they celebrated your love. Famous faces mingled with relatives, everyone dressed to impress, and the night was filled with laughter, Jayce’s weird ass speech, dancing, and, of course, music. Sevika even performed a surprise set, which had everyone raving for weeks afterward.

After the honeymoon, you and Sevika bought into two homes in LA and New York, though the sunny LA house became you guys primary sanctuary. You continued thriving in your career as a model and influencer, while Sevika poured her heart and soul into Shattered Souls, the band only growing bigger with each passing year. Every album release brought in millions, and their relentless touring schedule kept Sevika busy, but it was clear she always prioritized you.

Life had been eventful not just for you but for your inner circle too. Not long after your wedding, Vi and Caitlyn also said their vows, sealing their love in a ceremony that was just as vibrant and wild as their personalities. Things took an unexpected yet joyous turn when Caitlyn announced she was pregnant. She and Vi had chosen a donor together, and though Cait took a temporary break from the band to focus on the pregnancy, she urged Vi to stay with Shattered Souls until the baby arrived.

When Caitlyn’s pregnancy began progressing, you decided to take a break from your own work to help out. Between the late-night cravings and Cait’s stubborn insistence on decorating the nursery herself, there was plenty to keep you occupied. Sevika often teased you about being "Mommy’s helper," but her eyes always sparkled with pride when she saw how much you loved caring for Cait.

Around this time, you started having more serious conversations with Sevika about starting a family of your own. It wasn’t exactly a new topic—Sevika had been talking about wanting kids ever since the engagement, casually dreaming about what your future family might look like. But now, it felt real. Sevika was patient and understanding, knowing you wanted everything to be just right.

For months, you searched for the perfect donor, determined to find someone who bore a strong resemblance to Sevika. It wasn’t just about looks; it was about creating a child that truly felt like a piece of both of you. You pored over profiles, cross-checked every detail, and refused to settle for anything less than perfection.

Sevika, as always, supported your every decision. Whenever she caught you deep in thought, scrolling through potential donors, she’d come up behind you, rest her chin on your shoulder, and say, “We’ll find them. Our kid’s gonna be amazing, just like you.” Her unwavering confidence made you believe it too.

The two of you spent countless nights dreaming about the future. Sevika talked about teaching your kid to play guitar, how they’d grow up surrounded by music and love. She joked about how they’d have to deal with two moms who would fiercely embarrass them at every school recital or sports game. You laughed, imagining the chaos, but deep down, the idea of starting a family with Sevika made your heart ache in the best way.

After weeks of searching, you finally found him—the perfect donor. He had Sevika’s striking features: her sharp nose, deep skin tone, tall and athletic build, and a clean bill of health that only made the decision easier. Everything about him mirrored Sevika in the best way, and without hesitation, you jumped at the opportunity. The next step was IVF, a process you were both equally nervous and excited about. Now came the hardest part—waiting.

To pass the time, you threw yourself into helping Caitlyn with her nursery. From painting the walls in a soft pastel blue to assembling cribs and organizing baby clothes, you and Cait poured all your energy into making the space perfect. Caitlyn often joked that you were acting more like a second mom than a helper, but you didn’t mind—it kept your hands busy and your mind occupied. By the time the few weeks of waiting were up, the nursery was complete, right down to the tiniest detail.

Then the day came. You sat on the toilet in your bathroom, staring at the Clearblue pregnancy test in your hand, willing yourself to stay calm. Sevika stood a few feet away, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. She was usually the picture of composure, but the anticipation had her just as wound up as you were. “How long does this thing take?” she muttered, running a hand through her short hair for the third time.

“It’ll beep when it’s ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seconds felt like hours, but then—beep.

Your heart raced as you looked down at the little screen. There it was, clear as day: Pregnant.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, the realization washing over you like a wave. Then, louder, “OH MY GOD, I’M PREGNANT!”

You jumped to your feet, holding the test up for Sevika to see. Her eyes widened as she stepped closer, taking it from your hands to double-check. When the word registered, a wide grin broke across her face.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “We’re gonna have a baby…”

The two of you hugged tightly, your emotions spilling over in laughter and tears. Sevika’s strong arms held you close as she kissed your temple. “We’re gonna be awesome parents,” you said, your voice shaking with happiness.

“Damn right we are,” Sevika replied, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom. And I’ll—well, I’ll try not to mess the kid up too much.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “You? Mess them up? Sev, you’re going to be their hero.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re already mine.”

That moment felt like the start of something magical, the first step into a whole new chapter of your lives. Together, you were ready to take it on, one step at a time.

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl @nanajustnana-a