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andypantsx3 · 1 year

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DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #character: todoroki touya #andie's writing

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avis-writeshq · 10 months

Text

06 — untouchable

summary: “come on, come on, say that we’ll be together/”i’m caught up in you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, warnings: rated 16+ for two mentions of nakedness, short blood mention, brief mention of dead things, mostly canon compliant (s4 e23 ‘amplification’), wc: 4.3k a/n: thank you again to the lovely @astrophileous for beta-reading <3 good luck on your thesis babes MWAH SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

38 Hours Before the Phone Call – Monday, 8:42AM, BAU Office

Spencer arrives at the office with a stupidly giddy smile on his face. His cheeks are flushed as he grips a hot takeaway cup of coffee in his hands. He taps the cup idly with his fingers, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he steps out of the elevator unable to shake the smile off his face. It’s ridiculous and insane and borderline delusional but he knows it’s far from that. After all, he has a perfectly good reason as to why he is in such high spirits and that reason is you. After years of pining and psyching himself up (only to psych himself out) he managed to actually ask you out on a date. And, he reminds himself with a silly smile, he actually kissed you. And it wasn’t one of those platonic kisses, no, this was an actual kiss to the lips and he couldn’t be happier.

He thinks back to the previous night, visualising the way your cheeks grew warm and the way your lips felt against his. His own cheeks flush at the thoughts and he remembers committing that version of you to memory. How on earth are you so beautiful? Even while sleep deprived with dark bags under your eyes or unruly hair, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Pretty boy,” Derek comments in a teasing sing-songy voice as Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. “Ooh, I know that look.”

Spencer chokes a little, wiping his mouth with a tissue in his bag. “What look?”

“Someone got lucky last night,” Derek responds with a grin. “It must be the hair. I heard that long hair gets all the ladies nowadays.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer is quick to deny, walking through the big glass doors of the office.

“Who got lucky last night?” Emily asks, poking her head out of her little stall. Her eyes flit to Spencer and she grins. “Oh… I see how it is.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Spencer says adamantly, swiping a hand over his face. “It isn’t like that. Whatever we have is good. It doesn’t need to be–” He coughs quietly as blood rushes to his ears– “to be sexual. I like her. More than physically.”

Emily coos at his confession, twisting around her desk to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a gentleman, Reid.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says through a laugh, swatting Emily’s hands away. “Being a gentleman. Some women prefer it over the whole macho act.”

“Hey, I am plenty gentleman,” Derek says swiftly, holding a finger out. “And chicks dig the macho thing.”

***

14 Hours Before the Phone Call – Tuesday, 7:09AM, BAU Office

It was supposed to be a normal morning. It was supposed to be an average Tuesday with your average, run-of-the-mill serial killer with daddy issues but instead, JJ called the entire team in the early hours of the morning, saying to get to the BAU as quickly as possible.

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go-bag,” Spencer says as they enter the office.

In moments they were met with a complete arsenal of military personnel, bustling around their desks and storming throughout the office. Others were answering and sending phone calls, demanding for processes to be sped up as Hotch speaks to a group of people in his own personal office, Rossi beside him.

“What’s the army doing here?” Derek asks, his brows furrowed.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily demands, eyeing the uniformed professionals as they splay casefiles across their desks.

They all enter the conference room where JJ was waiting for them, along with a neatly dressed Asian woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail and out of her face.

“Guys, this is Dr Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC,” JJ introduces, filling up styrofoam cups with water and placing them around the round table.

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” she says as she places pills on a shiny metal tray.

Spencer frowns at that. “What circumstances?”

Hotch enters the room instantly, gripping a case file in his iron fist. “We need to get started.”

“Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2PM yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7AM the next day, we have twelve people dead,” JJ explains as the rest of team look through the manilla files.

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Derek murmurs thoughtfully. “Anthrax?”

Spencer flicks through the papers, scanning the tox screen. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Kimura says, an edge of fear in her tone.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets– airports, malls, trains?” Emily asks, turning to Hotch who shakes his head.

“There’s a media blackout.”

“We’re not telling the public?”

Derek looks over at Emily. “We’d have a mass exodus.”

“The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack,” Rossi explains.

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples,” Spencer says as he sifts through the papers.

“Or if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have the right know that?”

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch says urgently. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

Spencer wets his bottom lip nervously, his thoughts drifting to you. You work indoors all day. You’ll be fine, you have to be. “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized,” Kimura explains, “reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odourless and invisible.”

Rossi nods, almost as if he wasn’t surprised at all upon hearing the news. “A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours,” Derek points out, gesturing to the less than positive crime photos in their files.

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Kimura begins, taking an ultrasound scan of a patient’s lungs and presenting it to the team. “Its the lungs. We don’t know how to com2bat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. Our offices will become a small command centre,” JJ tells them.

“We’ll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick,” Hotch adds on.

“General Whitworth is coming here?” Rossi asks.

Hotch nods in the affirmative. “He’s in charge of sit containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who’s responsible.”

“My team is in charge of treating all victims,” Kimura goes on to tell the team, looking at each person.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims,” Hotch says, dishing out responsibilities. “Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Linda hands a small plastic container, each one having two round tablets resting inside. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Emily lets out a nervous breath as she toys with the rim of the container. “This… is really happening?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch says as reassuringly as possible before knocking his head back and taking the two Cipro tablets.

“Cent’anni,” Rossi toasts, holding the little container out. “May you live one hundred years.”

***

Everyone rushes about, gathering files and resources before the head off to complete their allocated assignments. Regardless of how much is at stake in this certain situation, Spencer feels his heart spike with anxiety. It’s against protocol, sure, but shouldn’t he call you? Tell you to take a sick day and stay at home, or to just stay indoors the entire time you’re at work. Maybe if he’s lucky he could get you into witness protection.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hotch says slowly, seemingly appearing out of thin air behind him.

Spencer freezes, his hands pausing as they rummage through his bag in search of his cell. “I’m not.”

“You’re not thinking?” Hotch asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what you want to do.”

“I can’t just– I can’t just keep her in the dark, Hotch,” Spencer insists, continuing to feel for his cell phone. “She could get infected and–” His mouth runs dry at the idea and he swallows thickly. “If I can protect her, then why shouldn’t I?

Aaron sighs, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows knit together. “I know you care about her and I know you’re worried, but she isn’t on this team anymore. If we all called home and used this information to give them the advantage that other people don’t have… is that really the right thing to do?”

“Don’t give me a moral dilemma, Hotch. This isn’t a hypothetical,” Spencer counters, finally finding the little device buried at the bottom of his satchel. “When I– when the incident with Tobias Hankel happened, she never gave up on me. She went out on a limb for me. I’m returning the favour.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment before finally, “What about the guilt?”

Spencer balks. “What?”

“If she is saved because of the information you gave her… can you imagine the guilt she would feel? She’s a selfless person, Spencer, and knowing her… well, you can guess what she would do,” Aaron says, glancing back to his office where Rossi is waving him over. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. Kimura is waiting for you.”

Hotch is gone before Spencer could say anything. He huffs quietly, guilty after hearing Hotch’s words. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he has to accept that his boss is right. The best way to keep you safe is by finding this UnSub before he could hurt any more people. He rubs at his eyes in frustration, stalking out of the BAU offices. Hopefully you’ll forgive him.

***

“Dr. Lawrence Nichols? Yeah, I read about him. He was highly respected doctor who studied anthrax prior to the attacks in 2001,” Spencer says as he gets into the passenger seat of Derek’s SUV. He rolls up the sleeves of his dark purple shirt, brushing some sweat from his forehead. “They think that he’s behind it?”

“There was a video of him at a conference with the with the National Defense Committee. He was paranoid after the Amerithrax attacks in 2001, proposing some crazy high budget to ‘protect the people of America’,” Derek explains. “He matches the profile exactly. Prentiss and Rossi are heading to his work. Apparently he got demoted into working with influenza.”

Spencer grimaces as he stares at the overgrowing rose bushes at the front of Dr. Nichols’s house, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Do people not hire gardeners anymore? He squeezes past a few bushes to follow Derek closer to the house, hissing when his hand gets caught on one of the thorns. He shakes his hand out, a scratch already blooming on the back of his hand with small droplets ot blood already emerging.

He continues to walk into the house as Derek’s phone rings, entering the house through a glass sliding door. The whirring of the fan above him grabs his attention and he frowns. The fan is on but the door is open… someone must have left in a hurry. He takes another step forward, jolting when he hears the sound of glass being crushed under his feet. Shit.

“Reid?” Derek yells, and Spencer jumps.

“Morgan, get– get back!” Spencer yells, slamming the sliding door shut so hard that the glass shakes. “Get back! Get out of here!”

Derek frowns, tugging at the handle. ‘What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks again, tugging once more at the handle; Spencer is a lot stronger than he expected.

“What’s wrong?”

Spencer pushes his hair out of his face in frustration as he locks the door, turning back to his friend. “I’m sorry.”

It is in that moment that Derek’s eyes turn to the ground, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees the white powder in the room leaking from a broken test tube with a bright yellow symbol for ‘biological hazard’.

It feels like hours before Hotch and the military arrive at the house, along with an ambulance and a hazmat team. The stench of Dr. Nichols’s dead body lingers in the air even though the air-con is blasting and the air is circulating through the room. He doesn’t even want to think about the dead animals and test subjects in the cages, his stomach churning at the mere thought. From what he could tell, the doctor was dead three days ago, meaning that he couldn’t have been the one to infect those people at the park. His head is pounding and his throat itches and all of a sudden he can’t breathe. He tells himself to relax but how can he when he very well could die in here? He knows the statistics; only 55% of those who receive aggressive treatment survive. He doesn’t like those odds.

“Hotch, I really messed up this time,” he says hoarsely into the phone, wiping the sweat off his upper lip.

“Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch says firmly, and Spencer watches as he puts the call on speaker.

“What– no, I’m staying right here,” Spencer insists, frowning.

Derek interrupts swiftly, “No, you’re not, Reid.”

“I’m already exposed,” Spencer says, his voice straining as he turns back into Dr. Nichols’s makeshift lab. “It’s not gonna do me any good to stop working the case.”

General Whitworth grimaces in response. “He’s already infected. Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure.”

“My best chance is to stay here, see if there’s a cure, and try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols,” Spencer insists as he searches through the lab for what seems like the millionth time.

Test tubes, files, and text books litter the lab, a flurry of papers splayed across the floor. The sight of them remind him of the first time he met you when you had ran into him on his first official day at the BAU. You were a swirling rainstorm as you practically slammed your head against his chest, the paperwork you were carrying flying into the air as you toppled over like a house of cards. In that moment, Spencer could have sworn that you were untouchable. You were like a fire, burning brighter than the sun, and he would be damned if he ever made that flame flicker away.

“Come on, Hotch, say something to him,” Derek tries again, worry laced in his tone.

Aaron hesitates as he considers his options before sighing. “He’s right. His best chase is inside. We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, it’s not going to do me any good. I’m already infected.” Spencer knows that if you were still part of the team that you would be scolding him about being so stubborn. Hell, you’re not even on the team anymore and you still scold him about it.

As he continues to try and search for more clues and filtering the information he finds through to Derek, his thoughts continuously drift back to you. You and your blissfully unaware state. He thinks of the way you smile and the way you felt in his arms that day. He is sure that the universe is playing tricks with him because the one moment he finally has you, you’re ripped away from him. His mind wanders back to the way your eyes lit up and the way your lips felt against his and in that moment he’s begging. He’s begging whatever higher power there is that he is part of the 55% of people who survive an anthrax attack after treatment.

“Hey, Reid,” Penelope’s voice echoes through the phone, sad and mopey. It’s unlike her, incredibly uncharacteristic and Spencer chokes out a quiet laugh.

“Reid? Wow, no, uh… no witty Garcia greeting for me?” He asks, running his fingers through his damp sweaty hair. It’s disgusting and gross and he hates it because he knows that it’s a symptom of the disease.

Penelope chuckles weakly from the other side of the line. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead he asks, “Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I… I know I can’t call… I know I can’t call (Y/N) or my mother without, uh–” he coughs, wiping his face with the palm of his hand and feeling his clammy skin– “without alerting everyone.”

“What do you need?”

“I– uh– I need you to record a message. Two messages. One for my mother and the other for… for (Y/N). In case anything happens to me.” His voice cracks as he speaks, his hand trembling because oh God, this really could be the end. After everything he went through going to those Narcotics Anonymous meetings, getting clean, going to therapy… this is how it ends?

“Oh, nothing is gonna happen to you,” Garcia says, wholeheartedly believing it. “You’re gonna brilliantly find ut who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

Spencer lets out a nervous breath. “I hope you’re right. But if you’re not, I just… I really want to make sure that they hear my voice. Both of them.”

“Okay. Just– just give me a second,” Penelope mumbles, clicking away on her keyboard.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“This– um, it’s for my mum first…” He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice even. “Hi, mum. This is Spencer. I just– I just really want you to know that I love you, and– and I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.”

Penelope presses pause on that message, murmuring, “Okay. And– and for (Y/N)?”

“Is it on?” He asks quietly, coughing as the itchiness in his throat refuses to relent. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter.” His voice catches in his throat as he speaks, tears slipping past his eyes as he tries to choke out the words. “If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

“Reid?”

Dr. Kimura enters the room through the sliding door, clad in a bright red hazmat suit. “Prep the victim for transfer.”

“I gotta go,” Spencer says quickly, hanging up the call and pocketing his phone.

“Dr. Reid,” Kimura says, walking over to him.

“You look nice,” he says drily, staring at the uniform. It looks very similar to an astronaut costume and if he were in any other situation, he would have started to laugh.

Kimura chuckles quietly. “I haven’t been in this outfit for a while.”

“How… how are the patients doing?” Spencer manages to ask, and suddenly it feels as if all the air is kicked out of his lungs. His head throbs with each attempt he makes to take in a breath and sweat pools at the top of his lip.

“Let’s worry about you.”

“I actually… I feel fine,” Spencer lies through gritted teeth, the muscles in his shoulders aching with each heave of his chest.

Kimura nods, her concern palpable. “Okay, if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

In an instant, the fear of losing all the progress he has made in the past year pools to his stomach and he shakes his head adamantly, ignoring the way the room spins. “No, I’d rather not take any pain medication.”

“We can at least make you feel more comfortable.”

“I am comfortable and I don’t want to take any narcotics!” Spencer says firmly, and he can see the realisation dawn in Kimura’s eyes.

“Okay… tell me how I can help.”

“I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere,” he says through heavy breaths, sucking in a mouthful of air with every sentence.

It isn’t long before the hazmat team has Spencer in a decontamination tent, the smell of sterile plastic filling his nose. They’re hosing him down behind a clear plastic curtain, Derek standing in front of him. The feeling of the cold water splashing against his back is uncomfortable, and Spencer grimaces at the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin. It’s gross and his work shirt is growing heavy from the waterweight, sagging down on his shoulders. The anthrax isn’t helping either. It’s too hot and too cold all at once, it’s too hard to breathe and it’s like his head weighs a million pounds.

“Go help Hotch,” Spencer croaks out to Derek, shivering as they continue to spray water on his back and front.

“Hotch has plenty of people helping him,” Derek dismisses.

Spencer shakes his head and regrets it immediately, his head starting to spin. “He needs you more than I do.”

“Reid, I’m gonna see you off to the hospital.”

“I’m about to get naked so that they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?” Spencer deadpans.

Derek grimaces before finally saying, “What if (Y/N) were here? Would you tell her to go?”

“(Y/N) wouldn’t mind seeing me naked.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot upwards at Spencer’s less than innocent words, immediately turning away. “We are having a conversation about this later. Take good care of him, please.”

The ambulance is stuffy and cramped, and the scrubs that he has to wear is itchy and uncomfortable. They’re menial thoughts that don’t even matter considering the severity of the situation, and Spencer wheezes out of a cough; a reminder that he might not even live to see the next day. The nasal cannula that is attached to Spencer’s nose isn’t doing much to assist him to breathe, and he coughs again.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?” Kimura asks as she checks his vitals.

“My throats a little dry, but other than that I feel– I flee– feel…” He blanks. His mind knows the words but they get stuck on his tongue and he panics. It can’t end like this. He refuses for it to end like this. “Flee– fleel– I–”

Kimura nods in understanding, a sense of urgency behind her words. “Okay. Okay, you’re doing okay. Driver, faster!”

“Call–” Spencer tries again, the words spinning in his head. “Pelen– Penel… low… len…”

Call Penelope, he tries to say, the lights in the ambulance growing brighter and brighter. She needs to give (Y/N) the message, she needs to… she needs to…

All he sees is white.

***

The first thing Spencer notices when he regains consciousness is the smell of lavender and oranges overpowering the sterile scent of antibacterial wipes. It’s comforting and familiar and he wracks his brain as he tries to remember where he remembers it from. He doesn’t remember much; only getting into the ambulance and Kimura asking him questions. He shuffles around in his hospital bed, stretching his aching muscles. He forces his eyes open little by little, and he quints at the woman at the end of his hospital bed.

“(Y/N)?”

“You ass,” you respond tearfully, your voice cracking as you swat him lightly on the arm. “You refused treatment?”

He smiles a little, sitting up on the bed. “Hey, angel.”

“Don’t ‘hey angel’ me,” you sniffle, taking hold of his hand and stroking his palm with your thumb. “You scared me.”

Spencer hums softly in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand back. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Kimura said that you should be free to go in a couple of days but you need rest afterwards,” you tell him, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You owe me a date.”

“I do,” he murmurs, his cheeks flushed and a giddy smile on his face despite where he is. He looks at you, you and his oversized CalTech hoodie. The hoodie in itself is ugly; a muted grey with a half-assed logo slapped to the front and Spencer has hated it ever since he bought it with what little funds he had back in college. Yet, for some reason, he doesn’t hate it so much when you wear it. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your pretty eyes at him, moving your chair closer to him. “Liar.”

“Never,” he whispers. “Never to you.”

You smile at him again, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “You told me you loved me. Is that true, too?”

“Love,” he corrects you quietly, “and I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Heat rushes up your neck at his words and you beam at him, kissing his cheeks. “I love you.”

He reaches a hand out to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the line from your ear to your jaw. “I love you,” he says into the space between you, before kissing you again.

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mickyschumacher · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friends with benefits is never a good idea. friends with benefits with carlos sainz especially isn't a good idea.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), jealousy, fwb to lovers trope!, let's hear it for the google translated spanish!!, unprotected sex again (using a condom is hot behaviour ♡︎), remnants of gaslighting?, oral sex, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, cumming inside, love confessions, set it up reference!, carlos realising his red flags, mention of rebecca donaldson as the other girl but she isn't vilified or anything (some peeps scare the shit outta me), idk anything about granada (except the memories of the alhambra! can i get an amen?)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x fwb!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+

𝐀/𝐍: this was a messaged request so i hope it was up to par! kinda long but we get there eventually. plot holes? yes. proof-read? um... to my sore eyes, yes.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

There were many things the world still couldn't explain. The human body, the brain especially, why humans yawn, the cause of Alzheimers, or why tomatoes have 10,000 more genes than humans do.

In addition, you couldn't explain how you had gotten to be friend with benefits with none other than Carlos Sainz, an F1 driver for Ferrari.

Well... there were some parts you could explain. Like how you met. You were simply a girl from Pampaneira, Granada going grocery shopping after eating up the last of what was in your fridge and Carlos was a fresh bachelor who decided to spend a part of his vacation with his friends over 400 kilometres away from his Madrid home in Granada.

A fresh bachelor who also happened to need grocery's for his cousin's raging hangover.

To say you were the town's golden girl was a bit of an understatement. You were far too busy greeting all your local residents. You didn't notice Carlos when you first walked into the store.

But Carlos noticed you. Actually he noticed you before he even laid eyes on you. Your sweet floral perfume roamed the air and engulfed him, luring him without any words. And then he saw you.

You were a beautiful woman. Everything about you... the long hair, your glowing skin, curves every lover goes to dream about at night, eyes that you would never want to let down, your lips... God your lips, one look at them and no sane person could stop thinking about them... at night; and then there was your smile, a social service that could get rid of all the tension in this world.

You didn't notice Carlos until you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from the health isle that was poorly across from all your fruit. There was no shortage of attractive men in your town let alone Granada. But you had never seen a man like Carlos before.

The thicket of brown locks that you craved to run a hand through, his gorgeous tan skin that God must've given, the mysterious chocolate eyes, the perfectly plump lips which made you think he just had to be a good kisser, the slight scruff on his face that made you wonder how it would feel on your skin, the taut body... a gorgeous man.

You didn't know who Carlos was. In Pampaneira, although you new what it was, no one really cared for F1. It was a village that bordered on as a small town. Everyone here knew each other well and spent every second socialising.

You couldn't decide whether you wanted to talk to him or whether you were too nervous to. But it didn't matter because Carlos made the first move and introduced himself. You introduced yourself. He complimented you. You complimented him.

And that was that.

By nightfall, he was in your bed and the both of you had the most sinful, steamiest sex of your lives. So much that Carlos saw you for the rest of his time there. So much that when it was time to leave, Carlos told you to come with him.

And you did.

It was all of that that had led up to all of this. This being your attendance to a dinner at an F1 event as Carlos' plus one in Barcelona. He couldn't hide a beauty like you. Besides, the Spain paps had already managed to weasel their way into your relationshpi with Carlos. Most people thought you were dating. But Carlos had firmly laid the rule out as one did when you became friends with benefits: you don't fall in love. Neither one of you. You agreed for the sanity of your brain because you were far too attracted to the man to fall into the tricky waters of love.

"Holy shit, Carlos..." Lando swore when his eyes landed on the entrance of the dinner.

Carlos raised a brow at this driver, turning his head to the direction of Lando's gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw you. Every time he saw you, he couldn't be more thankful that he had eyes.

You had captured everyone's attention no doubt. How could they not look? Not when you were dressed in a light yellow satin material that hugged you in all the right places. Not when your neck was adorned in the diamond lariat necklace Carlos had brought you, hiding all the hickeys he had place there this morning. Not when the back of the dress scooped so far down that it only rested a few inches above your ass.

Christ, Carlos thought as he discreetly adjusted his tight pants. You were a sin.

You greeted all the drivers, laughing softly when Lily and Alexandra started to fawn over your appearance.

"I'm telling you, you are probably killing Carlos right now," Lily whispered on one side of you.

You rolled you eyes as Alexandra quipped on the other side, "Probably? Look at him. He is suffering."

You pressed your lips together, preventing a full-blow grin from washing onto your face.

That was kind of the point.

You tried to avoid as much of Carlos as you could because riling him up was one of your favourite pastimes. But in your endeavour, you felt a familiar hand graze your bare back, sending a warm tingle up your spine.

"All of this when we don't get to finish the night together? No juegas limpio, mi niña bonita," Carlos' lust-ridden voice whispered as his head dipped down, letting him place a small kiss behind your ear. You don't play fair, my pretty girl.

You gave him a meek smile. As much as you loved his compliments, they were starting to get you these days. The endearments combine with his actions were stirring up feelings that should be sounding alarms in your head.

"Jugar limpio no es divertido," You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to divert you eyes to the dinner. Playing fair is no fun.

"That's true." Carlos poked his tongue in his cheek upon hearing your remark. You reminded him of a firecracker. Always ready to burst and come back with something to say.

"You have to admit it is sad though, hmm? Because all I want to do is take that dress off you and fuck you. I want to make you cum over and over again till all you can call yourself is mine. I want to watch my cum fall from your pussy because you can't take it all, niña bonita. And then I want to push it right back in so you can walk around with it all day. Soon. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath as Carlos' breathing became heavier and heavier. You chewed down on your bottom lip, standing a bit straighter to discreetly clench your legs together. With a small smile, you turned to Carlos. "I hate you," You told him in the softest and sweetest voice you could muster.

Carlos grinned, making your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, his chest facing your back, and his chin resting on your collarbone. "Please. You love me."

You blinked blankly at the cold splash of reality that fell over you. You gave a dry and short laugh. You patted his hand with your own. "En tus sueños, Carlos." In your dreams, Carlos.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Mornings without Carlos usually meant you had energy because you weren't having your brains fucked out. But your usual opening of your socials had brought something that drained you entirely.

You stared at your ceiling of your hotel room blankly. Regardless of whether Carlos was awake right now, he wouldn't have even seen this. He didn't read any other news other than his favourites like ESPN or the CBS Sports Network.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. What was this feeling in your stomach? Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy? You couldn't really put a finger on it and nor could you tell why.

You turned to plant your face in your pillow and let out a muffled groan.

How did you even get here?

Right. The grocery store.

You missed home. Home was an almost 2 hour flight or an eight hour car ride away. You missed when things were simple. When they made sense. Because lately, nothing had made any sense.

The thought of home brought you to the next train of thought: food. And as if on cue, your stomach growled at you with demand. So with the motivation of not starving to death, you got ready to have breakfast and headed down to the nearest cafe because hotel room service sucked.

Opting for a mocha with an extra sugar to counteract the bitterness in your life, you sat down with some a variety of churros and croissants to choose from.

Your phone blared it's default ringtone, capturing your attention. Your eyes flickered over the name and your heart softened and your bad mood had slightly eased. You grabbed the device and slid your thumb to the right.

"Buenos dias, mamà," You greeted. Good morning, mama.

You could hear her exclaim with joy, a sound you hadn't heard in a while. "Ah, mi niña bonita, buenos dias! ¿Cómo estás? No has leído las noticias, ¿verdad?" Ah, my pretty girl, good morning! How are you? You haven't read the news, have you?

You winced at your mother's pet name. You hated this. You hated that the lines between before Carlos and during Carlos were blurring.

"Sí, mamá, lo hice. Don't worry. It's just gossip. All fake," You told her even though you had no idea yourself. Yes, mama, I did.

You heard a sigh of relief from the other side of the call, making your heart hurt. "Right? I thought so. Carlos would never do that. Es un buen chico." He's such a good boy.

You could only tightly smile, agree, and be thankful you weren't seeing your mother in person otherwise she would've been able to tell straight away. You didn't know because all you had agreed on with Carlos was attraction. Nothing more and nothing less.

You caught up a bit with your mother. The conversation ended with her demanding a family dinner to which you told her you would see if Carlos had the time.

It was a simple conversation yet it was eye-opening.

You wanted that family dinner so badly. You wanted to be able to go see your mother and Carlos hang out. Hell, his own mother wanted you to call her mom. You wanted the stupid romantic things like dates, a person who would listen to you, the whispers of sweet nothings because... because you were in love with him.

Of course you were. Sure Carlos slightly had a quick temper and he wasn't that great at being emotional with you or anyone for that matter... but there was that saying: you like because and you love despite. Despite all of his flaws–because no matter how great a man is, he has his flaws–you loved him.

“Buenos dias, cariño,” A familiar voice greeted behind you. Good morning, sweetheart.

You turned your head, finding the root cause of all your problems stand before you with the most handsome smile.

"Carlos," You said with a slightly surprised tone.

Carlos smiled in return, placing a lingering kiss on the side of your head before he sat in front of you. The both of you waited for his coffee to be placed on the table before any conversation between you resumed.

"It's a beautiful day, no? I feel good about this weekend too. It kind of feels like everything is coming together," Carlos told you, raising his brows excitedly at you.

You gave a gentle smile, taking a long sip of your mocha. Slowly you placed the cup down and took in a sharp breath of air. "Carlos... can I tell you something?"

Carlos furrowed his brows and softly laughed at your almost worried tone. He nodded. "Sí, cualquier cosa." Yes, anything.

You looked down at your cup, fingers tracing the rim of the glass as you wondered how to start. Your mouth opened and closed, uncertainty closing in on you. Your eyes snapped up at the taunt of your name slipping from Carlos' mouth.

Okay... you got this.

"Carlos, I... I don't think we should do this anymore."

The crinkles in between in eyebrows and amused smile on his face told you that you had lost him. "You are going to have to be a lot more specific than that, mi niña bonita."

You chewed at your bottom lip. This nickname was getting tiring if he didn't mean it the way you wanted it to. "I mean us, Carlos. This... whatever this is. Friends with benefits... our relationship... it has to stop."

Any amusement on Carlos' face had dropped. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he tried to think back on how you had come to this decision. "I–what? What do you mean? Did something happen? I thought this was going fine... amazing, even."

"This isn't working for me anymore. I don't want to do this anymore," You shrugged with the pretence you didn't care.

Carlos grabbed your hand with his, rubbing the back of yours gently. "Is this the stupid headline thing? Cariño, they don't know what they're talking about."

"You didn't even deny it," You laughed softly as a bitter taste arose in your mouth and you slipped your hand our of his grasp.

Carlos stared at you for a while, unable to defend himself. "I don't understand. We agreed from the start that this wasn't going to be exclusive all the time. Three rules: it's open, we respect each other and we don't... we don't fall in love."

You paid no attention to where Carlos had paused. You shook your head, waving your hand in dismissal. "It's not that... I just... I don't want to do this, okay? Just leave it alone."

"Then what is it? I know you. You can give me a better explanation than 'I don't want to do this'. I can't leave this alone. Did someone say something to you? Did they do something? I swear, Y/N, if they did–"

"No," You quickly and sharply interjected. You took a deep breath. "Carlos.. I want more from you. I don't just want to see you every night and morning. I want to see you when we go out to have dinner. I don't want to be your sidepiece, Carlos. I can't... not when I feel like this."

The silence from Carlos was deafening. He struggled to open his mouth. His eyes twinkled with pain. "But you know I can't give you that."

Right. Carlos Sainz didn't do relationships. He was an F1 driver. They liked pass the parcel. And it just so happened, you were his parcel.

You nodded slowly. "Lo sé. Por eso lo siento. I'm sorry for ruining things between us but I can't do this anymore. Because if I do... I'm afraid I fall even further. And that's not fair on me." I know. That's why I'm sorry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As much as you would like to say you were a responsible citizen who didn't make bad decisions when you were upset, you couldn't.

The offer of clubbing by some of the girlfriends of the drivers was far too appealing in your situation. Your agreement excited the girls because you rarely joined them on these outings because you were too caught up with a certain Spaniard. Granted they didn't know the real reason behind why you were so ready to join them but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

As you arrived to the club, Lily let out a low whistle when she laid eyes on you. "How do you say hot as fuck in Spanish? Because my oh my you are hot as fuck right now."

She wasn't wrong. You felt hot as fuck right now. It was a warm night in Barcelona and the sexy black long sleeve mini dress, the same one you reserved for Carlos, was staring at you, begging for you to take it out of your suitcase. It stuck to your curves, it had some scandalous cuts, and it was backless. A perfect dress for Carlos? Sure. But a perfect dress to let go of yourself in a club.

You almost snorted at the golfer's theatrics but instead you opted for a flutter of your eyelashes and a stretch of your hand. "Oh dear madam, you flatter me!" You thanked her in a poorly imitated British accent.

Heidi and Alexandra laughed quietly as Lily rolled her eyes before grabbing your hands. "Let's go! I need some tequila!"

Quickly all four of you were by the bar, taking shots of cava (Spanish wine) instead of tequila. Well, you watched them take shots of cava. You may not be having the best day in the world but you were smart and sober enough to know that you and alcohol was not a good mix right now. And all the pleas of these girls could not convince you to do it.

Soon enough, you were all on the dance floor. The club couldn't be more of a club: sweaty bodies dancing on each other, old 2000s' music thrumming so loudly that you would think it was coursing through your veins, neon lights flashing rapidly across the room.

You... you were a vixen, dancing your way through all the bodies, relishing in all the lingering eyes you had captured. Every move you made was unintentionally alluring; your long tresses grazing your skin seductively, sticking to your skin at times as the humidity of the club made you shimmer in the flickering lights while you controlled the pulsing rhythm.

Lily, Heidi, and Alexandra watched in a shortly-lived awe before their eyes widened as a guy behind you edged closer to you. You could feel his breath brush pass the nape of your neck while the heat of his body began to circle you as his chest neared your back.

You couldn't feel a damn shiver down your spine that made you feel good as you once did but you weren't sure if you care that much. With the music blaring and your urge to escape reality without a sip of alcohol, you got closer to the man.

Dancing slowly to the music, you moved your ass closer to the man, feeling his hand lay on your waist. Your head fell back on to his should as he began grind his body into you. You squinted at the purple and pink lights floating in the air, frustrated. Why wasn't your body reacting the way you wanted it to?

The man's lips ghosted over the shell over your ear and he whispered, "Let's get out of here, baby."

Your mouth opened to respond but before you could let out a syllable, you felt the man's presence disappear and a hand grab your forearm, pulling you towards them.

You snapped your eyes to the figure, eyes widening slightly at the familiar brown locks, flushed cheeks, and the same chocolate eyes. Only those eyes were far darker. The host of pure craze.

"Carlos–"

"I think she's fine. You can leave," Carlos said curtly, ignoring your call of his name, brown eyes firmly planted on the stranger.

The man, sensing Carlos' anger and annoyance, held his arms up in defence and walked away.

Without looking at you, Carlos held his rigid grip on your arm and hastily walked you out of this club with heavy steps. You could spot the trio of girls nearby whispering their apologies, concerns, and how they forgot to mention they invited the guys.

"Carlos," You called wearily, watching him open the door of his Ferrari.

"Entra," He looked over at the door, waiting for you expectedly as he leaned on the car. Get in.

"What? No, Carlos, let's talk about this–"

"Get in the damn car and then we'll talk about this."

You let out a huff at the absolute resolve Carlos sported on his face. With a clenched jaw, you dipped down into the Ferrari, immediately finding the comfort in the familiar seat. You peered over towards Carlos, who was walking to the driver's seat.

Fucking hell. What had you gotten yourself into?

Silently, Carlos slammed the door shut. He took a glance at you and sighed before reaching out to grab your seatbelt and click it into place. The cologne you had gotten to used to infiltrated your nose as heat radiated off of his body. Putting the car into drive, Carlos was off onto the streets.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The ride to your hotel was fast. Carlos was well over the speed limit and all the buildings zipped past you like lightning. It was unnerving to see the combination of speed, silence, and anger in Carlos but you were lying to yourself if you said you didn't find it somewhat attractive. Carlos' hands firmly on the wheel, his taut jaw, hardened eyes... God, you were awful.

Not wanting to cause any commotion for all the gossiping fans, you both quietly arrived to your hotel room. You both took off your shoes silently by the door. You took a little longer, fiddling with the straps of your heels in hope to by you some time to think of something... anything to say.

With nothing coming to mind, you turned around to Carlos standing in front of you. His brown eyes stared hard at you while he chewed the inner corner of his mouth. You let out a small exhale when you felt his hand caress your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.

"Carlos..." You called once again.

Carlos momentarily closed his eyes at the feeling of your breath against his hand. "We barely finished our conversation this morning and you were going to fuck some stranger? Hmm?"

"I–" You wanted to say no. You really did. But you weren't raised a liar. "Yes. I was," You stated almost apathetically. You returned his sharp stare with a pointed look. "What is it to you?"

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath of air. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you so you were flushed against him. He pushed down the grin that was beginning to form once he felt your hardened nipples against his chest. He dipped his head down to your ear. "Say it again. I dare you. Try it again and see if I won't fuck you and edge you over and over again."

Your mouth fell open at Carlos' declaration while your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. You swallowed all the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, letting out a nervous incredulous sneer. "You wouldn't. You're driving tomorrow."

In addition to the three rules, Carlos had a special one of his own: no fucking the day before driving or throughout the weekend. Because of his addiction to your body and the animal he was, sex expended far too much of his energy and he knew for a fact that his team would be able to tell.

The hairs on your body stood straight and goosebumps began to travel down your skin as Carlos' thumb trailed from your lips to the valley of your breasts. His head tilted to the side, eyes moving from your tightly covered tits to your face. The corner of his mouth tugged up, forming a humoured smirk. "You don't think I will? After the shit you pulled? I made you a promise yesterday, cariño, and I'm going to fulfil it."

You let out a soft exhale. Your heart was racing in your ears. "Carlos... this isn't right. I meant what I said. I can't pretend like everything is fine like you. Besides you said it was open, right? You, out of all people, can't react like this."

Carlos' possessiveness was something you could never entirely wrap your head around. Sometimes it was there and other days it wasn't. He was all over a model yesterday and now he was pulling you away from other men? It was ironic.

The gaze that Carlos held told you there was something he wanted to say, right on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't say it. No... he couldn't admit it.

But you gladly would for him.

"You're afraid, Carlos. And I don't blame you. You've never had a serious relationship, you never committed, you never fallen in love so I'm not that surprised. But you've got to understand that I can't stay with you like this."

Carlos huffed in amusement, shaking his head shortly after. "You're wrong."

You raised a brow. "Am I?"

He nodded slowly. "I mean you're right about the relationships and commitment," He started, ensuring his eyes were firmly planted on you, "But I've fallen in love."

Your shoulders slump at his admission. Great. This was exactly what you needed right now. "Y-You have?" You asked with a small voice and a want to blare some heavy music through yours ears.

Carlos nodded once again. "At first sight. In a grocery store. There was this girl. She walked in, didn't notice me. But I saw her. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She laughed and smiled with the locals and I thought that for a second I died and went to heaven. I caught her eye and introduced myself. She did the same–"

"Carlos..." You interjected, feeling your heart pick up it's pace once again.

But the Spaniard continued his story. "We complimented each other, we talked and joked. Then we went to bed that same night. It was perfect. And after we finished, the thought of losing someone like her scared me. It was so terrifying that instead of asking her out, like a normal person, I asked her to become a bloody sidepiece out of all things. Can you believe it? I was an idiot... an idiot in love. I still am an idiot. Because she told me she loves me and I haven't done anything about it. Well, till now."

Carlos let out a long exhale, eyes nervously darting across your face, trying to draw any conclusions of your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes. "I hate you."

"What?" Carlos spluttered.

"Kidding!" You broke out into smile. "I love you too, Carlos. Not as much as you though. First sight? You are down bad," You jested, trying to not let all the fluttering feelings swirling in your body burst out of you.

Carlos blinked blankly at you. You were unbelievable. He shook his head at you, feigning a look of disappointment as he pulled you towards the bed. The soft sheets morphed around you, lulling you to a comfort you had been craving ever since you had put on your heels.

You eyed the lust-ridden look Carlos had. "I was being serious, Carlos. You're racing tomorrow. You have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, sex after a podium sounds nice," You offered, hanging your arms around his neck as he hovered over you.

Carlos smiled gently at your confession, heart warm at the thought of you by his side. He pushed your hair behind your ears. "As sweet as that is... I was also serious about my promise."

Carlos' leaned in, taking in one last glance of you before pressing his lips to yours. Goosebumps began to swarm every inch of your skin as his hands trailed down your body, finding your hips. If only he knew his tracks the way he knew your body.

You let out a small moan, giving Carlos a new access to your mouth. Your skin prickled with a new wave of heat that was unlike any before. Because this time you knew things were different. He loved you. And you loved him back.

You felt Carlos' tongue invade your mouth while his warm hands had moved to your bare thighs. His grip on your skin tightened as he revelled in the feeling of your plump skin rolling and burning in his hands. All because he touched you.

He removed his swollen lips from yours. The very same lips quirked at your whine. "You know this dress was driving me crazy?" He told you, planting his lips on your neck. His fingers skated up your thigh, inching loser towards your heated pussy.

Christ.

You leaned into his touch, losing yourself as he marked your skin with his love. His lips sucked on your soft skin with a greed the both of you had never felt before.

"Yeah? When? When you first saw me or when I was grinding on that guy?" You teased, running a hand through Carlos' dark brown locks.

Carlos paused, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. His fingers continued to travel, finding the soft and soaked fabric of your panties. "Niña bonita, you sure talk a lot for someone who is so wet from only kisses," He murmured against your lips as he pressed a finger on your cloth-covered folds and lightly grazed your clit.

You gasped at the sharp tingle shooting up your body. "Fuck, Carlos," You sighed, feeling a certain craving begin to settle in.

Carlos sported a grin that you almost wanted to smack off of his face. A feeling which only intensified once he removed his finger from your clit, leaving you breathless as he removed your dress. He sucked in a sharp breath coming across your bare body. "You know... going braless I get," He started while he trailed his finger down the valley of your breasts and towards your pussy. His finger stopped right above your clit. "But no underwear?"

You stayed silent, chest heaving at his touch. You were waiting for Carlos to push you right into the ecstasy you had been bordering on. "Carlos, please."

Carlos smiled at your strained plea, bringing his lips to your stomach. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," He remarked.

You watched as Carlos' head dipped down between your legs, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs. "Fuck, you are soaking, cariño," He called out, eyeing your glistening folds and feeling the heat radiate off of them.

You squirmed at his breath travelling up your spine. "Only for you," You rasped.

Carlos could only feel his heart pace as he watched you clench around nothing. His cock was flushed against the fabric of his pants and his underwear. Fuck, the pain was almost a dizzying as the arousal he was receiving. You were so good to him... oh the things you did to him. Good girls deserved rewards, did they not?

Your mouth fell open as Carlos' tongue laid flat against your folds, taking one long lap at your arousal. You could feel him smile against your thighs. "You taste so good," He murmured before plunging his tongue back into your warm folds.

He explored every crevice of your pussy while you hand shot out to his brown locks, pushing his head further into you. The obscene grunts that echoed in the room after leaving Carlos' mouth were nothing compared to the pace he had taken. He was devouring you; inhaling and savouring your very essence.

You removed your hand from his hair and the back of your head fell into the soft sheets. Your hips bucked against his tongue while soft moans fell from your swollen lips. "So good, Carlos, fuck," you cried out, voice straining from the pleasure.

Carlos took your praise as encouragement, pushing his tongue further into your slick folds while his thumb found your needy clit. He circled the sensitive bundle with a teasing gentleness that sent bursts of throbbing pleasure down your core.

A groan fell from his mouth upon feeling your hand in his hair once again. The slight tremble of your thighs and the clenching of your pussy told him that he was doing everything right. You were on the brink of losing it.

"Cum for me, niña bonita," Carlos urged, thumb rubbing your clit faster and tongue lapping at your puffy folds.

Your hips quivered against Carlos' tongue, thighs tightening around his head as your eyes shut tightly, finding a white light in the dark abyss. Your eyes watered while your mind became absent in your climax. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Carlos!"

Carlos momentarily stopped his actions, watching your face contort in pure pleasure. You looked beautiful. Hot, naturally, but beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat made you glow and your swollen lips with the few traces of lipstick were a hot mess but he loved it.

"No, no, no," You mumbled in quick turns when you felt his tongue and thumb return not a return a single second later.

"I said multiple orgasms, cariño. You can give me another."

Despite your refusal and the slight burn of your sensitive folds, your body liked to betray you, convulsing once again. Your hips trembled against his touch while your fingers grasped the bedsheets tightly.

Christ. Carlos was going to be the death of you.

Carlos greedily and happily watched your overstimulated pussy grind against him involuntarily. By the last quiver of your hips, he gave you a warm smile, mouth lowering to leave a trail of kisses across your stomach. "Well done, mi hermosa princesa." Well done, my beautiful princess.

You gave a tired smile, feeling a little less than beautiful with your sex sweat-ridden hair and skin sticking to the sheets.

"Princesa, are you sure you can handle my cock? I haven't tired you out too much, have I? Carlos queried, half with genuine concern and the other half with a tone that was almost patronising.

You narrowed your eyes before giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Well, you did promise to fuck me. If you can't, then nevermind."

Carlos couldn't tell whether he was proud or tired of your shit. You were clearly tired yet you had a lot to say back. Like he said, you were a firecracker.

With one hand, he removed his polo shirt. His brown eyes bore into yours as he slowly removed his pants. His lips quirked at your sharp intake of air once your eyes feasted on the throbbing bulge in his underwear.

Your heart thudded against your chest while you sat up from your position and inched closer towards him. You looked up at him with big eyes, hand trailing down his taut chest.

Carlos heaved, feeling the you skim past his body hair. His tongue darted out, resting on his lips as he carefully watched you open your mouth and sink your teeth into the waistband of his underwear.

"Fuck me," Carlos muttered under his breath, eyes glued to you while you pulled his underwear down.

Carlos quickly removed his underwear from his feet and in hast movements, pushed you onto your back. He rolled his eyes at the teasing laugh that fell from your lips despite it being the most pleasing sound to his ears.

You looked at the Spaniard hovering above you, hand gently brushing his cheek. You smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I love you, mi amor." I love you, my love.

Carlos held your gaze, chest heaving at your sudden admission. He felt impossibly warm. It was like the first time he had met you all over again. He felt the same way the night you first had sex. He whispered, "Again. I want to hear it again, please."

Your eyes softened and your heart ached at his earnest plea. "I love you, Carlos. Forever."

Carlos stared at you for another second before bringing you into a long kiss. "I love you more."

You let out a small whimper, feeling Carlos' thick cock against your engorged pussy. You watched as his eyes became clouded with lust. Just rubbing his cock against your folds was an obscene high that made the both of you shiver.

The sudden jerk of your hips as his cock rubbed your sensitive and overstimulated clit made you cry out. "Fuck...," You moaned out, "I need your cock, mi amor. Please."

Carlos was so lost in the pleasure it took the slight dig of your nails in his forearms to ground him once again. "Me too, princesa," He grunted, selfishly grazing your clit again with his cock just so he could watch your hips jolt once again. Fuck. Your reaction drove him crazy.

Carlos forced himself to get ahold of himself and focus on pushing his cock into your pussy. Your hands fell to his neck, steadying yourself while a gratifying burn ached through your core. "Me estás llenando, amor. Muévete, por favor, Carlos." You're filling me up, love. Please move, please, Carlos.

A groan flew from Carlos' lips as he fell into your plead, hips beginning to rut against you. Your swollen folds clamped around him, holding a vice-like grip on his aching cock.

Your sweaty skin stuck against one another while Carlos brought this lips to yours, consuming all your lewd moans with sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most immoral and obscene sounds known to man.

With one hand placed on your hip, the other travelled to grope your breast. Rubbing your nipples in a circular motion, a shudder erupted through you, feeling your clit brush against his cock with each thrust of his.

Carlos looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. You clenched around his cock, signing Carlos that you were close.

"Carlos, fuck. I'm going to.... I'm going to..." You panted, unable to get out the words as the lust rang throughout your brain.

"You're going to cum? Tell me, mi amor, who did this to you? Who makes you feel this good, hmm?" Carlos beckoned, increasing the snap of his hips.

You cried out, right on the cusp of pleasure. "Tú, mierda, tú lo haces. Fuck!" You, fuck, you do.

Everything around you became a blur, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pleasure. Your moans were silent but your body said it loudly: shaking against Carlos' cock.

"That's right. Me. No one el–shit," Carlos cursed, feeling your orgasm in his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched sporadic whine fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, taking every last droplet into your pussy.

You fell against the bed with an exhausted sigh. You felt the bed dip as Carlos did the same. You felt his hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You turned your head to the side, raising a brow at the chocolate eyes flickering over you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, cariño. I should've never ever let you be in a position where you felt like a fucking sidepiece. You are so much more than that. The love of my life," Carlos murmured, pushing a greasy lock of hair behind your ear.

Fuck. This was a new side of him you were seeing. The emotionally available one. And you loved it. "Well, as long as I'm not a sidepiece again," You shrugged, laughing softly.

"Never," Carlos confirmed. "You can beat me with those heels of yours if I ever do."

"Hmm... tempting. Although the guy from the club looks so much stronger. Did you see his muscles? So big," You fawned, fluttering your eyes dramatically.

Carlos sighed, shaking his head. An amused smile spawned on his face upon hearing you burst into laughter.

You were going to be the death of him.

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #formula 1

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barcaatthemoon · 3 days

Text

lover girl || kate martin x reader ||

Kate comes to you needing a little love.

MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut warning.

You had never been with anybody as sweet as Kate Martin. It wasn't your fault, but you seemed to only ever attract womanizers and heartbreakers. For years, you had thought that you could fix them with love and care. Instead, all you had to show for it was heartbreak and despair.

Kate was different. Kate loved you just as much as you loved her, maybe even more. You had never even considered what it would be like to have a partner. Kate wasn't just your girlfriend or someone who you slept with after games. No, Kate Martin was your partner. She loved and cherished you even whenever you weren't doing what she wanted you to.

"Baby?" Kate called out. You had been up in your office finishing up a few things for work. Kate had gone out with some of the girls to play a pick up game at a park with some local kids. You loved that Kate was giving back to the new community who had accepted her as one of their own. Going from Iowa to Vegas was a big move, and you were happy that she had found her footing so easily.

You hadn't moved from Iowa, being a Las Vegas native. You were a friend of friend at first, but you and Kate had quickly hit it off. All it had taken was a bit of prodding from your friends and a night out on the town with Kate to kick off your relationship. The two of you took off running together and never dared to look back, and you were happier for it.

"I know that you were working, and it's honestly kind of late, but…" Kate trailed off as she cleared her throat. You turned around in your desk chair to see Kate looking like a nervous wreck. You pouted as you stood up and walked over towards her.

"Come on, talk to me," you told her. It was gentle prodding, something that you had learned from her. Both of you hated the idea of being a burden, so you were always hesitant to go to one another whenever you needed something.

"It's stupid, you're busy." Kate tried to turn away from you, but you didn't let her. You leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to her cheek. Kate was blushing when you started to pull away, and her arms held you tightly to keep you in close. "What are you working on?"

"Nothing really. I was watching YouTube," you admitted. Kate let out a small chuckle as she glanced back at your desktop. The video you'd been watching was paused, and Kate could see herself on the screen giving an interview. "What can I say? I'm kind of obsessed with you."

"It's okay, I am too." Kate had never shied away from how much she loved you. Your relationship moved fast, but you and Kate were good. Nothing felt rushed, you just enjoyed each other's company, and things just happened to align perfectly for both of you. "So much so that I was wondering if I could steal you away for a little bit?"

"Oh yeah?" you asked. Kate's hand subtly moved from the small of your back to rest on your ass. "What for?"

"I want you. I need to be close to you and feel you. Just for a little while, please. I need a bit of love," Kate said. She seemed close to begging with you, like she'd get on her knees if you asked. Lucky for her, you didn't want that from Kate. You wanted her to be happy, and if you were being honest, you always wanted Kate in that way. It was like an addiction almost, the thought of her taking you to bed every single night sitting in the back of your head during your every waking moment.

"Let's go." You hadn't even finished your sentence before Kate was scooping you into her arms. She carried you all the way from your little office to the bedroom. You wondered what Kate had been doing while you worked in your office. She had been back for maybe an hour or so before she had come to get you. The bed was still pristinely made from when she woke up, so you doubted that she had taken a nap.

"I love you," Kate mumbled against your lips. She placed a few clumsy kisses against your lips, waiting until you grabbed her face to pull her focus in. You tangled your fingers in her hair, tugging it out of the loose ponytail she had thrown it up in after her shower.

The two of you stayed entangled in each other as Kate set you down on the bed. Even as she undressed you, Kate was reluctant to move just half an inch away. She was being clingy, and you absolutely ate it up. You had never been with someone who wanted you so genuinely before, nor had you ever felt the same. There was nothing about Kate to fix, and yet, being with her filled you with a sense of happiness you had never known.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Kate repeated again and again, each time pressing a kiss to your skin as she did so. She trailed kisses down your body, stopping just below your navel. Your pants were off, tossed somewhere on the ground near the hamper, but Kate had left your underwear on. She stared at you as she waited for you to tell her that she could continue. It didn't matter how comfortable the two of you were with each other, she always waited for you to give her permission when it came to the most vulernable parts of yourself. "Can I, please?"

"You're the only person I ever want to touch me like this," you told her. Kate blushed as she pulled your underwear down. She held eye contact with you, only allowing her eyes to dart down once you had looked away from her. Kate swallowed nervously, just she always did.

"Before I do anything." Kate moved up to give you a kiss before she settled back in between your legs. Your thighs were moved to rest on her shoulders as her arms looped around your hips. Kate was slow and gentle as she decorated the insides of your thighs in kisses. Finally, when you felt like you were on the verge of begging and pleading for more, Kate's lips pressed a kiss to your cunt.

Kate's fingers gently spread you open, revealing you to her completely. You threaded your fingers in Kate's hair, not pushing or pulling her in any direction. Her hands were busy, and you just wanted to holding onto her. Kate understood this, and let the fingers on her free hand move back and forth against your stomach.

You took deep breaths, matching the slow strokes of Kate's tongue. She was just trying to taste you. It wasn't about getting you off just yet, you still had a little ways to go until you got desperate. This was Kate's favorite part of things, when the two of you could just exist in this intimate space without any sort of push or pull going on.

"Fuck Kate, that feels so good," you moaned. Kate hummed her thanks as she brought her fingers up to rub against your clit. Your hips bucked forward, grinding against her fingers as her tongue lapped lazily at your entrance. Every drop of your arousal that she could get, Kate took. The strokes of her tongue began to grow feverish, and you knew that Kate was close to switching positions on you.

Her tongue replaced her fingers, and the two fingers that had been rubbing your clit were pushed inside of you. Kate let you move on her fingers, setting the rhythm and pace for her. She was quick to match your pace, long fingers grazing every spot you could have wanted her to in the process. Kate was good at what she did in every aspect of life, so you weren't embarrassed to come crashing down around her fingers so quickly.

Kate gently guided you through your orgasm. You felt light and airy, like the only thing keeping you from floating away was Kate's body on top of yours. She had pushed your legs from her shoulders, and now rested on top of you. Your hands were still in her hair, just barely scratching at her scalp. Kate was staring up at you when you finally glanced down at her, but you had no clue how long she'd been watching you for.

"Hi." Kate's smile was bright as she turned and pressed a kiss between your hips. She rolled completely onto her stomach and began to move higher up onto the bed. Now, it was your turn to lay against Kate as she opened her arms for you. "Shh, rest easy babe."

"Don't you-,"

"No, this was all I wanted. It's late. We can revisit this tomorrow when I get back from practice," Kate told you. You glanced over at the alarm clock, and she was right. Kate's practices for the next two weeks were all early ones, and it was nearly midnight already. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"I'm fine. I can do it myself," you told her. Kate may have let you get up, but she still followed you around like a puppy. It was sweet how she still tried helping even with the easiest of tasks. You wanted her to get back in bed, but Kate didn't end up going back until you were comfortably tucked in beside her.

#wnba imagine #wnba x reader #wbb imagine #wbb x reader #wbb fanfics #wnba fanfics #kate martin x reader #kate martin imagine #kate martin smut

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binniebakery · 7 months

Text

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

#binniebakeryorders #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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kisakis-boyfriend · 8 days

Note

any juice for baby boy shinichiro?

when ppl put him with a partner who is taller, extremely attractive and just generally insanely out of his league...ive seen some ppl write this exact trope for both male and female readers and omg its so satisfying for the soul. + his friends reacting to how the fuck did shin pull a big dick supermodel. godtier trope

nsfw but genuinely do what you prefer either way!! love to read everything you put out, regardless of the contents or characters haha

♦️

Author's Note: I made the reader a literal model because I really like that idea, hehe. HCs + scenarios filled with plenty of sub Shin getting his entire world rocked, just for you, anon! 😜

Pairings: Shinichiro x male reader

Warnings: Male model!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Shinichiro, risky sex, sixty-nine, size kink, mild hand fetish

• Who would ever think that Mr. Handsome who visits the local mechanic shop was actually dating the shop's owner?! No one, clearly

• Customers whisper amongst themselves after you and Shinichiro step into the office in the back, and, if they're lucky, they might catch a glimpse of you two locking lips

• Or a glimpse of your strong arms bending Shin over his own desk. They try to avert their gaze once they realize that you're about to pound the store owner's brains out right then and there

• On many occasions, he's had to take off work the next day because his legs have become jelly… and if you really feel bad for him, you'll give in when he sniffles “You'll need to take care of me while I recover :(”

• It's not any different when your lovely partner comes to visit you at work. Photographers can be impossibly picky some days, and when you pose for hours in little to no clothing for, yet another, underwear ad, it is nice to see your lover's smiling face walk through the door

• Shinichiro brings you lunch—made by his own hands, of course—complete with a note or doodle. And when he doesn't cook, you'll jump at the opportunity to leave the studio for a lunch break together

• The crew at the studio are always annoyed at how long you're gone, but what they don't realize is that more than half of your "lunch break" is just you and Shinichiro banging in the public bathroom

• Shinichiro isn't short, though when he stands next to you, he sure feels like it… you're nearly a foot taller than him (or more) and quite muscular to boot. And yes, you will use these facts to tease him

His arm stretches as far as it can, but it's just not enough to reach the item he needs on the tippity top shelf. He calls out to you for assistance, and you stroll into the room, grinning mischievously as the gears turn in your head.

“Aw, shorty can't reach it all by himself?”

Shinichiro pouts, “I'm not short, you're just too tall! …But I do need help getting that down please…” he relents.

“Of course.” to his surprise, he's suddenly lifted up by his waist, now at the correct height to reach what he needs. With embarrassment quickly setting in, Shinichiro snatches the item then stammers for you to "put him down, now!"

He thinks himself safe when his feet touch the floor again, but it's only for a second. As quickly as you let go of his waist, you spin him around and plop him on top of the counter. The blush dusting his cheeks begins to show as you still tower over him, even now. His eyes slowly close as you kiss him—eagerly pushing your tongue past his lips and pulling a few moans out of him.

…aaaand just like that, you pull away and leave. Leaving behind a lightheaded mechanic with a newfound throbbing sensation between his thighs.

• If it's not obvious yet, I do think Shin would have a bit of a size kink. Maybe he doesn't realize it until he's actually with you, but it's definitely there

• Someone larger than him, laying their weight on his back while a massive cock fills him so much that it creates a stomach bulge? Yeah, that's the good shit 🥴

• I just had an image of 69'ing with Shinichiro pop into my head… ugh

Wrapping your lips around his pretty dick while he struggles to take half of yours. His tip is leaking already, and you gladly accept everything that drips out and onto your tongue.

Shin arches his back, enjoying all of these sensations; your hot mouth around his cock. Your cock pushing further and further into his mouth. Your hands spreading his cheeks apart and–

“Mmgh~ babe, please…”

“Please what?” you ask, popping off his dick long enough to ask a question that you already know the answer to.

A groan echoes within his throat, garbling the words attempting to escape through his lips. “D-do it… I can take it.”

With a serious fire lit within you, you suck his cock deeper into your mouth. Gently, at first, a finger eases its way into Shin's hole, making him arch deeper and dig his nails into the skin of your thighs. Soon after that, a surge of cum surprises you, shooting down your throat as you're forced to swallow it. Poor baby is apologizing when he hears your choked moaning… he didn't mean to cum yet, you just made him feel so fucking good 🥺

• He looooves having your hands on him~

-> Hands holding his waist while you slide into him. Breath heavy and right in his ear, whispered words of praise and how fucking tight he is

-> Hands connecting with his as you pin him down and steal (yet another) kiss

-> Hands working their magic on his erection. Both hands wrapping around his cock, milking more out of him like a relentless living fleshlight

-> Hands combing through his messy hair after a ride in the town. Detangling the knots as best as you can before he takes a shower

-> Hands on his lips, sliding into his mouth while you coo “Good boy~”

-> Hands scissoring his hole open. Making his knees wobble as you take it nice and slow, rhythmically pumping in and out with your thick fingers

-> Hands wiping tears from his eyes on your wedding day ❤️

• Uh um, yeah… moving on 😵‍💫

• Now, since you're a model, Shinichiro has gotten some unwanted attention from random strangers and paparazzi. It's mostly when you're seen together, but some fans have even shown up at his shop just to ask if you were there 🤐

• You're very quick to tell anyone off though. Polite, if possible, yet stern all the same. Because gods help any person who's dumb enough to lay a hand on your man, or even make him uncomfortable in the slightest. All of your muscles aren't just for show

• And, as a model, you have been known to pull a few strings. Only a few times. But you were able to have Shin as a guest for a few magazine covers or spreads

It's hard to act professional when his beloved is basically nude—nothing except the brand's boxers to cover that thang that makes Shinichiro squirmy and wet.

The photographer wants some rather intimate shots of Shinichiro sitting on your lap, facing you. The makeup on his face does help hide the growing blush, but to you, as you sit merely inches apart—it's quite obvious.

You also notice the semi-boner underneath his own set of boxers… you have to remind him that this is a professional setting, and he needs to calm down or you'll both get in trouble. But honestly, how can he? Even staring into your gorgeous eyes would be enough to turn him on!

Gently, you rub his back and whisper to him “Keep it together here, and I'll give you a private show later tonight, ok?” To which Shinichiro enthusiastically shakes his head, nearly making himself dizzy.

Oh, the things you do to him later~

• Now, about his friends and family……… yeah they have no idea how the hell Shin is dating you

• They don't mean it in a rude way either. It's just, you're literally actually a model… you're insanely attractive, handsome, breathtaking, kinda fuckin rich?, and so on and so forth. So, what made you choose to stay in Shinichiro's hometown (save for business trips and vacations) as opposed to, oh I don't know, living in some mansion or beach house surrounded by other models?????

• Every single time, your answer is the same: “Because I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him”

• Yes, your career is important to you, but you can travel when need be for that. Shinichiro Sano lives here, and you're not willing to give him up

• As siblings do, Shinichiro's younger ones definitely make fun of him for being with someone way way waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy out of his league. But it's all in good fun. Besides, they're also protective of him, and make sure you know that, if you ever break Shin's heart, they'll break a leg or two :) (especially Izana… that guy kind of scares you… except he's also a sweetheart once he realizes that you also care about his brother)

#my writing #requested #shinichiro sano #shinichiro smut #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x male reader #sub shinichiro #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x male reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #male reader #dom reader #top reader #dom male reader #sub male character #headcannons #scenario

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randomshyperson · 11 months

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Lacy - Werewolf!Reader x Wanda Maximoff - Kinktober #07

Summary: This Halloween, Wanda receives a surprise visit from her favorite werewolf. The problem is that it's very difficult to keep a crush hidden during mating season.

Warnings: (+18), mutual pining, semi-public, very vague allusions to omega verse, beefy!reader, power!bottom wanda, a bit rough but they are actually sweet to each other, some praising and dirty talk. | Words: 3.144k

A/N-> First, I know nothing about werewolves. It was never my thing growing up (I’m a witch type of person I suppose) but I know about omegaverse stuff and since it’s wolf-based I tried some references from that lore. Also, I was totally thinking about Wednesday's show (and Wenclair ship tbh) when writing the school but you all be free to image whatever you wish. Also, the name is from Olivia Rodrigo’s song, ‘cause it’s such a friends-to-lovers/mutual pining coded lyrics. Good reading folks!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The mating season was always the most tiring part of the year.

Even as a child, her days were marked by hard work and running errands - her mother was always very busy with orders, and somehow, the twins were obliged to finish the tasks in record time, so as not to delay the calendars and keep Natalya busy when her customers needed her.

As the largest and most respected apothecary in the country, Natalya Maximoff was also one of the biggest dealers in magical items - and this also included natural suppressants. Her customers wrote to her from all over the world, many famous packs like the Romanoffs or the Howletts only bought her products, and the witch was always very busy at this time of year.

So when their mother told them that she would leave the Maximoff Magical Articles Boutique in their care for two whole days, while she delivered packages around the world, none of them were surprised, as this had been done dozens of times before.

Wanda's indignation stemmed from the fact that her twin brother, as soon as there were no more magical remnants of the portal his mother had conjured to travel through, put on a jacket and told her he was leaving.

"But you can't leave me alone!" Wanda hurried away from the counter. Pietro chuckled, adjusting his hat on his silver hair. Since he had turned 18 last month, he had grown a good few centimeters, and even with her best serious expression, Wanda, who hadn't grown much since she was 15, no longer succeeded in frightening him. That, and well, like his father, Pietro had a bastard heritage of lycanthropy, and with his new skills, he had also gained extreme confidence.

"What, you gonna tell me you're scared of some little wolves?" He sneered, his fangs protruding from his smile. Wanda huffed angrily, her cheeks slightly red. "Don't be silly, Wanda. You're a witch. Nobody's is crazy enough to mess with you."

He tries to pat her on the shoulder, but Wanda pushes a finger against his chest. "I'm not afraid of any wolves, you selfish idiot! Mom says the store is our responsibility. And you're sneaking off to do who knows what! I don't want to spend all night looking after this place on my own. Apart from the season, it's Halloween, and kids go apeshit and-"

"Jesus, Wanda, I'll make it up to you!" He cuts in, already pulling away and ignoring the other girl's protests. "I've got to go, I'm taking Crystal to the movies, then we'll settle up!

"Pietro!" But the call was ignored and the store door was slammed in her face.

Wanda huffed to herself. She could survive a Halloween night, but her brother would owe her a lot if he didn't want to be snitched on. She returned to the counter, texting him another dozen curses before texting to her mother that everything was under control.

And lucky for her, that's how the evening actually went.

Most of the few customers who showed up were locals, a few sorcerers in need of ingredients, and even a traveling vampire who needed to replenish some reserves for a long trip. Some children also asked for candy, and tired of getting up so often, Wanda decided to leave the jars outside.

It was almost at the end of her shift, when she was ready to close the shop, that a delicious smell wafted into the room. Wanda, who was distracted by the holiday lessons that the institute where she studied always offered when there were short vacations or not, was snapped out of her concentration by the fascinating smell. She looked up just as a figure stumbled into the store, covered by a school uniform hood.

She didn't need you to remove the cap to recognize you, and yet, when your face became visible, Wanda felt her heart unlearn how to beat properly.

"Good evening?" You looked between the shelves, approaching the cashier, only to hesitate as soon as you saw Wanda. "Oh, h-hi. Uh, is Madame Maximoff around?"

You looked uneasy, adjusting your hair and fiddling with your fingers. Your flushed face must have been due to the walk from the Institute to the store.

Wanda shook her head as she replied: "She had some orders to place. How can I help you?"

The color of your face deepened, and you couldn't look her in the eye for more than two seconds. "Hmm, I kind of need... suppressants." And it was the turn of Wanda's face to heat up. You continued talking anxiously. "I thought I still had some, but my reservation ran out, and since I'm in the dorm, I wouldn't want to... well, would you have any left? I know it's very short notice but I really need it."

Wanda nodded quickly, equally at a loss for words. You see, if you were any other of her werewolf colleagues, the situation might even be comical. She wasn't like Pietro and didn't make friends very easily, but she shared the same taunting nature. One horny wolf in the store and Wanda would have jokes for the rest of the year. But it was you, her longtime secret crush, emanating a very pleasant scent and in need of something so intimate that Wanda could barely control her own thoughts about what other ways she could help you if there were no other suppressors in the store.

"My mom usually sells everything before the season starts, but I can look in the warehouse to see if we have any leftovers. I'll be right back." She says, smiling softly at your anxious figure.

Wanda has never seen you in heat before; the mating seasons for new wolves begin at the end of puberty, between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, and the vast majority of her werewolf classmates at the Institute return to their packs at this time of year, already matched with their partners in the traditions of the lycanthrope. Wanda only knows about the rituals from her father's family, because each clan, from the Vampires to the witches, is very private about it all. Witches like her mother, who specialize in all kinds of products, are the exceptions.

Wanda tries the storeroom next to the counter, but after a few boxes, she snorts in frustration. Her mother really did sell everything, and she almost reprimanded you for not planning properly. For older, mismatched wolves, being without suppressors could be really dangerous. For you, a new werewolf, it would only be quite painful. It was easier for her to feel sorry.

And while she tried the last few shelves at the back of the storeroom, you grew even more restless outside. Wanda had no idea how intoxicating the essence of a witch, especially a witch one cared about, was. If you hadn't been so desperate, you would have given up going into the store as soon as you could smell her from around the corner, but then again, your brain wasn't working very rationally right now.

And there was also a scarf on the counter, Wanda's most characteristic item since she had received it as a gift so many years ago. Many of the times you've noticed her, she's worn the item around her neck and it made sense that her scent was so strong in the room, even though she was upstairs.

Your limbs moved by instinct, you didn't have to think much, just let yourself be guided by the urge to exhale that distinctive smell more deeply.

Your face was pressed against the scarf when Wanda reappeared, and her confused giggle made you jump away mortified.

"Are you all right there?" She ventured, receiving a very quick and embarrassed nod. Wanda chuckled again in amazement, and without caring much about your current condition, she approached. "I looked upstairs, but my mother sold everything, sorry. There's something else you might like to try, maybe a calming potion so you can sleep while... well, this happens to you."

You quickly agree, still embarrassed at being caught. Wanda doesn't mind, if anything, she always found it very entertaining how different you were from the other werewolves she knew; loud and confident to the point of being idiotic. Pietro was a prime example. And if it wasn't for your distinctive stature, she could easily have assumed from your shy and careful personality that you were just an ordinary human, perhaps a mermaid from the way you seemed to bewitch Wanda's attention all to yourself.

"I'm sorry." You mutter suddenly, while she is searching for a sleeping potion on the shelf under the counter. Wanda turns her face up in confusion, but you're looking away. "From the scarf, I know it's... weird. But my body seems to be acting on its own. Just forget about it when we get back to school, okay? I'll be normal when it's over."

"Don't worry, I don't mind." She assured meekly, before finally finding some bottles that could help you and taking them back to the counter. She bit her lip at the way you were panting, and the way your trembling fingers pulled some notes and coins out of your pocket. "You can take these two vials today, and this one in the morning if you're still..."

"Horny'?" You joke, and take Wanda by surprise, but she manages to return the short laugh. Your hands push out the money and she turns away to pack the vials into a small bag. "So, one now and two tomorrow."

Wanda quickly denies it. "No, darling, two now and one tomorrow. Are you... are you sure you're all right? You're sweating-"

"Just give me a minute." You interrupt her with a gasp, the sudden wave of heat catching you completely off guard. The room starts to spin, and for a whole moment, all you can feel is your own arousal and the way you want to touch the witch in front of you. Your body gives way, and your hands force down on the counter, disastrously strong enough for the wood to crack. Wanda jumps in fright, worried, but you grunt quietly. "Shit, I'm really sorry-"

She hurries around the counter, and her soft hands make you jump away. "Hey, it's okay, I just want to help you stand up."

But you gasp in despair, wrenching your body away from her. "Don't touch me, Wanda, for God's sake." You grunt, and if you hadn't sounded so affected, Wanda would have taken offense. Instead, she stands ready to catch you if you lose your balance again, and that's exactly what happens. This time, your weight falls forward, and Wanda's body serves as a barrage.

Your wolfish weight is almost too much for her, and it doesn't help that your face is buried against her collarbone, and your arms embrace her clumsily. "Hm, so soft." She hears you sigh, as she struggles to drag you over to the reading area of the store's bookshelves, where there's a sofa to put you on. When you fall into the cushions, you look up with dreamy eyes and an easy smile playing on your lips. Wanda gasps softly from exhaustion.

"Wait here a moment, okay? You feel like you're burning up with a fever. I'll get you some water." She explains, but it doesn't seem like you're listening very much, disconcerting her with the way you're looking at you so discourteously, your pupils dilating. Wanda adjusts a strand of hair, self-conscious under your gaze. "I'll be right back."

She practically runs out of there, and alone, realizing her own hands are trembling as she remembers the sensation of having your body against hers. She shakes her head to push the thought away, you were clearly in a vulnerable moment right now, and Wanda doesn't think she'll survive the shame of being rejected once the heat wears off.

When Wanda returns with the water, she almost drops the glass on the floor. You haven't moved, but you've changed position, limp against the sofa, evidently rubbing yourself down the item as you whimper.

"Oh, detka, let me help you." Wanda abandons the glass on a shelf, and rushes to your side, kneeling beside the sofa. You gasp in embarrassment, trying to escape her gaze, but Wanda's hands grab your warm face. "Let's go upstairs. I'll make it better." She whispers the invitation, but the thought alone is enough for you to grunt in affection and pull her face towards you.

It's a hungry kiss, and the position doesn't help. Wanda has to grab your shoulders to keep from falling to the floor and ends up breaking into a giggle when a moment later it's you who's throwing yourself at her, desperately kissing her as if she's going to disappear.

The lightness disappears quickly. She feels very hot and bothered, especially when your tongue slips into hers as if you already knew exactly how to kiss her, and your hands touch her entire body with determination. Her plea for you to slow down turns into a moan when your knee pushes between her legs.

It's almost primitive the way you seem willing to have her right there on the floor, angrily trying to pull her clothes off while your moans mingle. Wanda's face burns and she struggles to match the kiss, losing that battle all too easily when your palms begin to stimulate her nipples.

She can feel the wetness begin to bother her through the fabric of her panties, and perhaps, you can smell it too, because you grow more impatient, and begin to murmur disconnected compliments into her skin, your hands reaching down to unzip her pants. Wanda chokes between moans, practically whimpering when your fingers find her so ready.

You enter her, all at once, without a second thought. You suck on her tongue as she squeezes your fingerprints and soaks your hand. It's dirty and rough, and Wanda couldn't hold back even if she tried. Yet the store door opens, and she has to bite down hard on your shoulder to muffle her own noises.

Whoever the customer is, asking if there's anyone there or if the store is open, Wanda makes sure they don't see her. Her eyes are scarlet, and it's never been harder to do a concealment spell than it is now, with your fingers thrusting inside her as if the world around you hardly mattered. Finally, the customer leaves and her magic plays its part in locking the door before Wanda digs her nails into your back and comes against your fingers.

It's not enough - Nothing seems to be. You continue your movements inside her until Wanda is spasming again, begging for a pause. Your hungry mouth finds its way into her most intimate place then, just to tear more pleasure out of her. She loses count of how many times she comes, on your fingers and tongue, until the whole store smells of sex.

Fuck, she has to move you before Pietro comes back.

It's only when you let her breathe, retreating like a wounded wolf, that Wanda notices the puddle of moisture on your pants. You came at the mere act of watching and touching her.

"Hey, are you okay, sweetheart?" She coos gently, propping herself up on one elbow now that you're lying on your back, one arm over your face. Your clothes are as torn as theirs, but there are many more marks on her body than on yours.

You sniffle quietly, and Wanda looks at you with concern. "Why didn't you stop me?" you ask upset, and Wanda stares in shock for a moment. Then, swallowing dryly, she works up the courage:

"You didn't want this?"

But your reaction is to laugh incredulously. "Of course, I wanted it, Wanda! But I'm talking about you. Why didn't you stop me? You're a witch, you could have knocked me down, look at you! You're all purple, and I... God, I can't believe I... hurt you."

She climbs into your lap before you can despair, ignoring your soft protest and grabbing your crying face. "I haven't stopped you because I've wanted you to since we met." She assures you determinedly, caressing your cheeks. "I'm in love with you, you idiot."

Sniffling softly, you raise hopeful eyes. "Really?"

Wanda smiles, her weight against your chest. "Really." She assures you. "And don't worry about the marks, I... like it rough."

You groan in embarrassment, looking away and amusing her. There's a moment's pause, and then finally: "I like you too."

Wanda bites back a smile. "I got that impression, you know? When you were all whiny on me."

Your laugh is sincere and shy, and Wanda kisses you as your hands grip her thighs. But before she can deepen it the way she'd like, you break again.

"Thanks for helping with the heat... but I'll take you on a date after this. I promise."

She pulls on your bottom lip with a provocative bite. "I'll charge." She assures you in a naughty whisper, and you sigh contentedly as she presses your hips together. Smooth movements, and you're already seeing stars again.

Your breathing becomes shorter, and Wanda traces her fingers along your jaw, while her other hand moves down. "I bet you're all warm and tight."

You sigh, closing your eyes and nodding in agreement. Wanda kisses you leisurely, also taking time to slide her fingers into your pants and assess the effects of everything so far. She's not surprised by the immense wetness, but the sensation of sinking into you is overwhelming. She can feel ready for another when she starts to stimulate you and watches you squirm beneath her.

"So good... don't stop..." You moan helplessly, and the grip on her thighs is almost strong enough to hurt. Wanda makes a mental note of how to make you lose control of your strength, before curling her fingers inside you and being rewarded with the sweetest sounds in the world. "W-Wanda!"

She decides she likes it very, very much when you whimper her name like that. She continues her motions a few more times until you come hard on her fingers. Wanda thrusts a few times, before removing them and bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean while you try to catch a breath.

Your murmurs are labored, and Wanda kisses your cheek a few times. "Come on upstairs, sweet baby, I'll take care of you." She tries to get up, but your hands steady her on your lap.

It's almost ridiculous how easily you lift the two of you, and Wanda has to hold onto your shoulders, chuckling softly at your uncertain stumbles on the way upstairs.

She'll have time to look after the store when you fall asleep. Right now, she's more focused on kissing you again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff smut #marvel imagines

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spamgyu · 9 months

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BACKBURNER // PART 2

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 1 | MASTERLIST

She wished she could go back and listened to her friend when he had warned her starting something with him was a bad idea.

Y/n could remember that day so clearly — even more now that she spent a lot of her free time alone with her thoughts.

It was going so well, three months into dating Seungcheol and not a single red flag in sight. Things were looking up.

Maybe he wasn't the toxic man she had come to know of when they were in school.

It was all going so well.

He had invited her over to his place, wanting to cook her dinner.

"Wanted to do something cute." He explained. Y/n happily made her way over to his place, thinking that he was finally going to ask her the big question.

To be his girlfriend.

They spent most of the time giggling like high school lovers as they worked around each other in the kitchen; Seungcheol stealing kisses each time he caught her looking over at him.

Which was more than she could count on one hand — but she wasn't complaining.

They were nearly done. Just needed to plate their meal when the rug under her was pulled, sending her right back down to earth.

His phone hadn't even completed ringing when he picked it up, his demeanor instantly changing.

"Sunhee's flight came in a few hours early. Rain check on dinner?" He flashed her his dimply smile.

What was she supposed to do? Say no? Not with that smile.

Y/n agreed, allowing him to usher her out of his place; not without a kiss of course.

With an empty stomach and a freed up Friday night, she made her way to her favorite duo's place — in hopes that the two were not out terrorizing local single women at the club.

"He called off date night? For Sunhee?" Mingyu snorted as she picked off of his plate. "Can't you go and make yourself a plate? There's literally enough food for both of us."

She shook her head, grabbing another piece of chicken only for her to drop it as his hand lightly smacked hers. "She didn't have a ride."

God, could she be any more oblivious.

"Uber? Lyft?" He listed in bewilderment.

Y/n shrugged. "You'd do it for me."

She didn't care if he had a girl best friend. To most, this was a nightmare. It would have been the first big red flag to any other girl.

But Y/n knew she couldn't complain. Not when she was the first person Mingyu would call to tell her about the latest girl he was dating, the person he asked for outfit approvals, the person she called when she had any car problems. They were each other's person. Even if they bickered like their lives depended on it.

No, she couldn't be a hypocrite.

"Pick you up at the airport? During rush hour? You wish. I'd only do that for someone I love.... even then I'd reconsider it." He chewed.

"They're best friends." She defended, tapping her finger on the table to make a point.

"Who's in love with each other." Mingyu replied matter of factly, copying her actions.

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No they don't."

"May I remind you that last week he didn't make it to your little breakfast date because she didn't feel well. She." He emphasized. "You would have to be dying for me to cancel on someone I was dating."

Y/n had almost forgotten about the incident. She and Seungcheol had made plans to try out a new cafe by his place only for him to cancel at the very last minute.

She paid no mind to this, knowing that he and Sunhee were close and she had no family in the city to be at her aid.

Little did she know at the time was that Sunhee simply had a hangover and Seungcheol had gone over to nurse her back to health.

"It's been three months and not a single title has been established. He's a red flag, Y/n. Back out now before you get even more attached." Mingyu stood from his seat, walking over to the stove where the rest of his meal was cooling — scooping extra servings for him and y/n. "You want more rice?"

"No, just chicken." She shook her head. "He's just being a good friend."

"I give it another month before he makes you cry." He sat back down, this time placing the plate in-front of her.

He was right.

Within a month, Seungcheol began giving Y/n mixed signals — one minute he was telling her how he couldn't believe he had managed to score a chance with her and the next he was leaving her on delivered for hours on end.

Only for her to find out he had been pre-occupied with Sunhee through their instagram stories.

But see, Seungcheol had done it so slowly and Y/n didn't realize that she had been put on the backburner until it was too late.

She was far in too deep when she had come to realize that she would never measure up to the girl.

She had been attached, falling deeper and deeper as each day passed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Are you done?" Mingyu whined from across the table.

She had taken and retaken the same picture of their meal for the past minute, unable to find the right angle.

"It doesn't look like a date!" Y/n groaned. "You know for someone who came up with this brilliant idea, you're shit at making it believable."

When he had told her he was going to be picking her up to get lunch, this was not what y/n had imagined. She thought he would have at least chosen a much cuter place that was worth pulling her phone out for.

But what would have expected from the Kim Mingyu.

She nearly strangled him as they pulled up to the usual spot they would gab a bite from. After much convincing, and the offer of a free meal on him, she exited the car and followed him into the establishment.

Picking up his chopsticks to pick at the meat that was beginning to brown on the grill, Mingyu let out a small chuckle. "He won't believe it if I took you to something fancy."

Y/n rolled her eyes, leaning back against her chair as she watched him stuff his face. "This is so romantic." She deadpanned.

"Fine, here." He sat up, placing an elbow on the table and a smirk on his face.

He was posing.

She had seen enough stories from girls he had dated to know it was his signature look.

"The fuck am I supposed to do with that."

"Just take the damn picture."

Picking up her phone with a sigh, she angled her phone just enough to capture their meal and him – cutting it off right where his neck began. It was discreet enough to get people wondering, but also obvious enough for him to know who she was with.

She didn't want to post his face just yet.

"Next date better be something good and not barbecue."

"Relax, we gotta do it slowly." He shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth, wincing at the sight of him talk while his cheeks were full of food. "Date here and there and then Hawaii– that's when we'll become so insufferable he'll want to kill me."

Hawaii.

In about two weeks, she and the whole gang were headed off to the tropics for one of their college friend's destination wedding.

Of course it would be a destination wedding. It was Jeonghan.

He couldn't just have picked a local venue.

It was going to be a week full festivities, the group wanting to take advantage of all the island had to offer before they watched their close friend walk down the aisle.

Might as well.

Everyone was going to be there. Including her.

"Speaking of," Mingyu continued. "Switch rooms with Minghao."

Looking up from her phone, she raised a brow at him.

"Do you even want to do this? Why are you so dumb?"

"Hey!"

Rubbing his face and groaning in frustration, he spoke slowly. "Minghao's rooming with me, meaning you will now room with me. Seungcheol will see. He will get jealous. Is your pea brain picking up on this?"

Jeonghan and his future wife had thankfully blocked off a floor at the hotel for those traveling for his big day, allowing all his friends to be within close proximity to each other.

She had initially booked a room all by herself after waiting weeks for Seungcheol to bring it up when they had all received their invites in the mail.

But he never did.

In fact, he had told her he was rooming with one of his high school friends who had not seen in a while.

She couldn't even bring herself to be disappointed, a part of her fully expecting he wasn't going to make the suggestion.

He had seen the disappointed look on her face that day, reassuring her that he may end up in her room every night anyways.

"Just want to hang out with Jihoon, haven't seen him in years." He reasoned, placing a kiss on her temple.

What a fucking liar.

"If we're going to do this, you have to be nicer to me.".

"Whatever you say, stink." He winked.

"Stink?" Y/n made a face.

"Short for stink bug."

It was a nickname he had given her in middle school, claiming that she looked a like a stink bug.... and smelled like one too. Y/n hated the nickname at the time, nearly crying each time he would call her this in front of the boys in their class.

It was better than baby.

"We'll work on pet names later." She laughed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Their fake dates have gained attention from everyone but him.

The rest of their friend group had managed to fall for their act after the second cryptic instagram story that the two shared at his apartment.

Unbeknownst to them, they had spent nearly half an hour getting the perfect shot on his couch to make it seem as though they were cuddling – all with the help of Minghao, of course.

"This isn't gong to work. You guys look so stiff." He laughed as he watched the two make a face as they intertwined their legs, pretending as though they were cuddling as they watched a movie. "Scoot closer, Mingyu."

"If I scoot any closer, my skin will merge into hers." He snapped, following directions.

"Oh my god, just do it." She cried, her arms growing numb with the multiple attempts of snapping the picture.

Seungkwan was the first one to swipe up on the story, instantly noticing the familiar console in the picture; replying "??????".

Soon her inbox was flooded with the rest of the group's reactions; even more when Mingyu posted his version of the same pose.

All except him, who didn't even bother watching the stories.

"Switch seats with me." Y/n whispered loudly to Minghao as they waited to board their plane.

"I already switched rooms, you want me to–"

"I'm sitting next to him."

They had booked their flight together; at the time when she hadn't been able to foresee the future.

Y/n was originally going to go through with sitting through the flight next to Seungcheol, wanting to get under his skin after spending the past two weeks and a half posting of nothing but about her and Mingyu. But considering he had yet to even see a single one of these post that was directed to him, and not a single text, she didn't think she could sit a four hour flight in silence.

Not while Sunhee sat to his right.

Taking the boarding pass from her hand and handing her his, Minghao let out a defeated sigh. "I feel like I'm doing as much work in this stupid shit as you two."

They had disclosed their plans to him, and only him. They knew if it had to be believable, they need someone on their side who was able to corroberate their stories – just in case someone had doubts.

"Love you!" She smiled, reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

"You better." He grumbled.

It wasn't long before they were called to board.

Y/n palms were sweating at the thought of walking past him as she would make her way a few rows back to her newly assigned seat; but she had to keep her composure. Just as she had while they were all sat at the gate – pretending she didn't care that Sunhee wasn't giggling a little too loud at whatever Seungcheol was saying.

Or the fact that he had pushed her carry on all the way from TSA to their designated waiting area while she happily walked alongside him.

She had to keep her head up high.

He had already been sitting in his seat when he caught her eyes from the line of passengers who were all patiently waiting to put their belongings in their overhead compartments.

She was two steps away when he stood from his seat, motioning Sunhee to do the same, to make room for y/n to squeeze in to her spot by the window.

"Thanks." Minghao smiled, shimmying past the two; paying no mind to the confused look on his friend's face.

With furrowed brows, Seungcheol followed her movement – up until Mingyu grabbed the rolling bag from her hand.

"I got it." He lifted the bag with ease, sparing no glance to the eyes that burned a hole in the back of his head.

Once she was no longer in his eyeline, y/n let out a breath of relief – buckling herself in.

"High five." Mingyu held his hand up, proud of her.

"Gyu please, not now." She shook her head, attempting to slow down the beat of her heart.

His head tilted to the side as he watched the girl's emotion's spiral from nervousness to a near panic attack.

"Cheol?" He asked.

"I wish." Her legs bounced as the last few passengers took their seats and the flight attendants made their rounds; her lips growing pale as each second passed.

Mingyu watched as she shifted in her seat for the third time since sitting, adjusting her belt tighter as she felt the plane slowly taxi on to the runway. "Still?" He asked in disbelief, eyeing her knuckles that had turned white from gripping the arm rest.

Y/n simply nodded, closing her eyes.

She had always been a nervous flyer, despite the countless times people have explained the physics of a plane. To y/n it didn't seem logical, how was it that a flying bus could easily travel from point a to point b? All with nothing but a fan for an engine and wings that didn't flap.

It didn't make sense. And don't even get her started with turbulances.

The low hum of the plane had began to grow into a loud roaring sound; she could practically feel her heart sinking deep into the pit of her stomach as she waited for it to gain speed.

Y/n's mind was instantly distracted when she felt his pinky slowly interlock with hers. She opened her eyes to look over at him, but his eyes was closed and fully locked in to whatever music that was blaring on his headphones.

Grateful for his attempts to comfort her, she relaxed under his touch – feeling his hand slip under hers to interlock hands once the plane was at full speed, giving it a squeeze when the plane reached the end of the runway.

It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the air, nervously watching the buildings grow smaller and smaller as the ascended past the clouds.

All thoughts of free falling began to plague her mind again.

"Stop that." He reached over to shut her window with his free hand, pointing to her personal tv. "Watch. Don't look out."

Time passed quickly all thanks to Mingyu's annoying voice that had kept her distracted, talking over the movie he had suggested for her to watch – pausing almost every five minutes to listen to him either comment on the scene or babble on and on about a random picture from his camera roll.

She had given up halfway through the movie, opting to sleep instead. But Mingyu wasn't letting up; he had thought if she sat in silence, she would manage to come up with all the worst case scenarios possible.

He would have much rather waste his breathe talking her ear off than have to comfort her while she sobbed in her seat.

He had been traumatized the last time their family took a trip together to Japan; the first time he had seen a different side of her. She had always been the braver one between the two, an adrenaline junkie who seeked thrill rides and any activity that would have him cowering in an instant.

They were fifteen at the time and since then, he swore he would rather eat dirt before he relieved that same moment again.

Just as he had comforted her during take off, Mingyu took her hand in his as they made their descend down – still babbling on and on about god knows what.

"See not bad." He grinned as they felt their plane come to a complete stop.

The humid air instantly engulfed them as they stepped out of the automatic doors of the airport, each making a comment about how glad they were that they chose to dress lightly.

The boys were all like children let loose in a candy shop, gawking over the Jeep Wranglers at the rental lot – Seokmin and Mingyu instantly bickering over who would get the last black two door.

"Boys." A voice next to her giggled.

It was Sunhee.

While the guys loudly made arrangements on who would be getting which vehicle and who would be riding with who, Sunhee and Y/n stood back and watched.

"They're... something." Y/n forced out a laugh.

The thing was, she couldn't bring herself to hate the girl.

As much as she hated that she was the reason for the pain that Seungcheol had put her through, y/n knew that Sunhee wasn't the problem.

In fact, Sunhee had attempted to distance herself from Seungcheol at one point when she had found out he was dating her; but of course, he didn't have any of it. Y/n was in the other room when he had called Sunhee, saying that he and y/n were just casually dating and didn't care feel at all threatened by Sunhee.

It wasn't a lie. But it sure did hurt.

"Stink!" Mingyu called out from black Jeep, motioning for her to head over. "Come on!"

He had won the rock, paper, scissors against Seokmin.

Fighting back the urge to send him the middle finger, Y/n smiled at him and turned to Sunhee. "I'll see you at the hotel."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"When'd you get that?"

Y/n turned away from her suitcase, halting her search for her white oversize linen button down, she followed his finger to the red fine line tattoo that read "lucky" at her hip.

Once they had all arrived at the hotel, the group wasted no time making plans to bound for the beach; agreeing to head up to their respective rooms to quickly change out of their airport loungewear to a much more appropriate attire.

Mingyu and Y/n have seen each other countless of times in their swimsuits, not bothering to bat an eye as they gathered all their belongings half naked.

"About four months ago." Y/n went back to practically tossing all her belongings on her bed.

Thankfully the room that they shared was a double queen, having it originally been Minghao and Mingyu's sleeping arrangement. She was able to make her own mess on her side without Mingyu's complaint about making the whole place look like a teenager's room.

He had been the clean one between the two.

"Nice." He nodded slipping a plain white shirt on. "Ready?"

"I can't find my shirt." She exhasperated.

"We're going down to the beach. Just go like that." He said, addressing her current outfit.

Which was just her swimwear and light washed cut off shorts that she had folded down to rest right at her hips. Something she had seen from pinterest when she was taking inspiration for her outfits for the trip.

"But I want to look cute." She pouted.

Aside from having to pretend like she was dating him, she still wanted to take document the trip and all her outfits.

She had an instagram feed to keep up, after all.

Rolling his eyes, he dug into his own suitcase – tossing her his crocheted short sleeve button down. "Come on, we're missing prime acting time." He clapped. "Need to annoyingly apply sunscreen on you and pretend to drag you into the water."

"Oh my god." She groaned.

When he said they were going to be insufferable, she didn't think he would jump right into it – dreading the fake laughs and giggles she would have to muster up the minute they stepped foot out of their room.

Grabbing her tote off the bed, Y/n put on her best smile and walked over to him. "Ready, bug?"

"Let the games begin, stink." He winked, slinging his arms over her shoulder – the two cracking up in an instant.

This was going to be a long week.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

They're act was in full force.

Mingyu wasn't lying when he said he would apply suncreen on her once they reached the sand, annoyingly taking his time as he reached her lower back.

He was also not lying when he said he would pretend to drag her in the water, throwing her over his shoulder as he bounded for the shoreline, only to set her down once he was ankle deep.

"Is he looking?" He asked, keeping one arm around her waist.

Discreetly peering over his shoulder, thankful that he was nearly a foot taller than her, y/n nodded.

Seungcheol was sat on his towel, watching the two with the same look he had been giving when they were at Seokmin's.

"Okay, we'll I'm gonna go play." Mingyu satisfied with his short acting career, nodding over to Hansol and Chan who was calling out for him at the deep end. "You're good for a few minutes?"

"Yeah I'm going to nap." She nodded, heading back up to where the other half of the group was lounging – not before she felt him give her hip a squeeze.

"For plot." He winked.

"Gross."

"You and Mingyu, huh?" Jeonghan wiggled his brows as she took a seat next to him, pulling her sunglasses back down to cover her eyes.

Along with Seungcheol, Jeonghan had managed to catch a glimpse of the two shamelessly flirting by the water.

He had bought their oscar worthy performance.

"Yeah." She replied shyly. "It kind of just happened."

They had yet to come up with how it just happened.

"Surprised it didn't happen sooner. Glad you got over this guy over here." Using his thumb to point at Seungcheol who had been shamelessly listening in on their conversation. Just like everyone else in the group, Jeonghan had been filled in on y/n and Seungcheol's weird relationship – despite being cities away.

"He'll just play her." Seungcheol snorted. "It's Mingyu."

The first time she had heard him utter a word to her in weeks.

"Can't be as bad as what you put me through." Y/n replied without missing a beat, laying down to soak up the warm sun.

She fought back the smile that threatened to creep up on her lips, content that she had managed to get in his head.

The plan was working.

"Okay, kids, no fighting this week." Jeonghan laughed nervously.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @naturelvrgfstealer

(taglist open - lmk if you want to be added!)

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iridescentxstars · 3 months

Text

-> 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 .ೃ࿐ [ — bangchan ][part one]

➳ published: 23.06.24 ➳ credit: banner: @aaagustd || beta: @wooahaeproductions ➳ werewolf!au || bakery!au || enemies to lover!au || genre: smut || angst || supernatural || fluff || dark || rating: m ➳ pairing: alpha!bangchan x bakery!reader (fem) ➳ summary: a decision in chris' past leads him down a road that brings him to his mate and even though he says he doesn't want her - it seems destiny, and others, won't take no for an answer. ➳ word count: 28.5k (this part) || total: tbc ➳ warnings: mentions of cheating (on the reader by an ex), violence, toxic behaviour, manipulation, unprotected sex, light degradation/praise, accidental claiming, drunk sex (still able to consent and make decisions), no aftercare ➳ author's note: hello, it's me! it has been 4734873294 years since i started this fic and wow, i hope you love it! the mc is affectionately nicknamed 'sugar' and has minor descriptors just to help flesh her out a little more and she is implied to be curvy and soft (no eye colour, name, etc.). ➳ taglist: @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu @sanjoongie @honey-andmilktea (please let me know if you want to be tagged in future works)

Life has always been about the choices you make, the ones you allow to change the trajectory of your future. Sometimes, these decisions are terrible and you learn lessons that you may never have had to otherwise but others can put you on the path of a future that turns your life upside down in all the best ways.

This wasn’t the thought you had when your sister called and asked if you wanted to join her in a new adventure. That adventure happened to be starting a small business, a bakery, in this cute little town on the coast. You didn’t know whether it was something you really wanted to do with your newly acquired business degree but how could you say no? How could you possibly say no to Spice when she pouted, holding her hands and pleading that without her darling little sister, she couldn’t possibly make this work?

Six years in university, the better half of your twenties, and you were packing up your small apartment to move out of the city to a new town. A new life. A fresh start. Considering that your loser boyfriend of several months had cheated on you and the exhaustion that ultimately came with being a university student had drained you significantly; this change in scenery could be something that is actually beneficial to you – especially since you were about to build the cutest little bakery with your sister.

‘Everything Nice.’

It took a lot of planning, hours, blood, sweat, and tears but after several months and many, many mental breakdowns, you and your sister were proud owners of a bustling little business that slowly grew to be something loved by the locals and tourists alike. It might not have been as flashy as the bakeries you would frequent near your university but it was everything that you both had dreamed about.

Apparently, it was also something the locals needed as well. You had plenty of regulars who would come as soon as you opened up their doors and others who always came in on their breaks for something to treat themselves before rushing back to work.

Your routines had changed and you went from a life of the party girl to someone who would be exhausted in bed before 10pm. You missed your old lifestyle, you missed going out with friends and getting into trouble that often resulted in silly, fun stories the next day but you had to admit that living near the beach, surrounded by fresh air and forests, was peaceful. The months rolled into a year and it never wore off – that peace, the serenity, and the healing that comes with time. You had managed to grow, to learn, to find more to your life than chasing after boys and passing out in random beds every weekend.

Plus, you were able to bond with Spice and eat her delicious baking whenever you wanted.

Like right now, as the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the kitchen into the front of the bakery. You start to salivate, comedically following the sweet scent towards the viewing window and smiling at your sister. Serena, or Spice as you affectionately call her, is standing in the messy kitchen with her hair tied up in a messy bun and an apron on with flour over the front where she’s used it as a hand cloth. “Are they ready?” You stare intensely at the oven while Serena laughs in amusement, shaking her head, “what?!” Your voice raises an octave as you pull away from the window, heading towards the kitchen with the door swinging closed behind you as you enter.

“Nothing, I’m just surprised that our customers have anything to eat with the way that you are always ‘taste-testing’ everything I make.” Scrunching your cute nose up, you swipe one of the bakery’s signature chocolate chip cookies sitting on the tray and take a bite. The deliciousness is overpowered by the heat, causing you to tilt your head back and breathe out hot air with a whine. “You literally just watched me take it out of the oven, silly! What are you doing?” Oh, don't you look so funny trying to cool down the burning cookie in your mouth?

“I couldn’t wait! They smelled so good!” You tried to speak with your mouth full of goodness.

Clicking her tongue at you, Serena passes over a plate for you to quickly place down the cookie and grab a glass of milk to help soothe the burning sensation in your mouth. “Clearly.” She laughs when you begin acting a little more dramatically than you need to, helping the woman settle her nerves about the massive catering event later. “You can’t eat everything that comes out of the oven today, I’m sorry that you’ll have to make do with what we already have out the front. With the size of the catering order, I need every cookie I make.”

You smile and giggle, nodding your head as you grab your plate and take another bite, “don’t forget about our regular coming in today for his order!” You wave the cookie in goodbye before heading out to the front, just in time to hear the front doorbell chime, announcing a customer walking in. “He hasn’t missed a week since he started coming here!” Serena hums softly to show that she hasn’t forgotten and getting back to work, You turn to smile at the newcomer. “Hello!” You smile brightly, your cheeks soft and round, as you place your plate out of sight under the till. You walk out to the front of the store, past all the breads and pastries, to check over some of the items, “if you are after anything in particular, feel free to ask.” The customer bows in acknowledgement while browsing while you simply tidy the savoury displays up.

The day passes by rather quickly and you are certain that if you didn’t go and annoy Serena every few moments then she would lose her mind or drown in the amount of cookies and macarons that she has made today. You help where you can, mostly with the savoury items, placing all the food onto trays and organising them so that they are ready for pick up while Serena focuses on baking and making sure that nothing in the store is running low. A lot of work for you two but you both manage to get it done and before long, you are finally able to sit down on your little stool behind the counter. The clock indicates it’s time for the kitchen to start getting cleaned so now you can focus on selling whatever is left over so that you don’t have too much waste when closing.

You realise as you scroll through your notifications that the regular hasn’t arrived to collect his order and honestly, you pout at the thought that maybe he had forgotten; not only does Serena put extra effort into the order because he’s their first regular since you established the bakery and gained a reputation around town but also because… well, he’s hot. You know that the food isn’t just for him, the amount alone is way too much for one person to eat by themselves and it doesn’t matter whether it’s for friends or a girlfriend because you're far too shy to actually ask but you just like looking at him. From a distance, of course, you’re not that weird… or you hope not. He has this smile that makes you melt inside every time you see it and he is really friendly – is it wrong that you have a little crush?

“You could always help me with the cleaning, you know,” Serena pops her head through the door, glaring at the younger sister as you sit on your phone replying to a friend about a party happening in the city this weekend. It’s been a long time since you had gone and seen everyone and while most of the group that you spent time with in university are people you still get along with, there are some you could happily go without seeing ever again but your friend thought it’ll be good to catch up.

It should be fine, right? A party, plenty of people, it shouldn’t be that bad.

Looking over at Serena, you smile innocently, pointing to the front of the store where you had placed some of the sandwiches and pastries to entice people to come inside and see what else you had to offer. “Oh, but dearest sister, if I am out the back helping you then who is going to make sure that nobody is stealing your delicious goodies?”

Serena scoffs, raising an eyebrow as a man stops and looks over the assortment, “and what? If he stole a sandwich, would you chase him down the street and tackle him to the ground for theft?”

Gasping dramatically, you place your hand over your chest in faux offence, “Rude! Are you saying that I can’t run?”

“Can you?”

There’s a moment of silence before the two of you start to laugh, her head disappearing from the door to carry on with her closing while you stand up and place your phone in your apron pocket. Straightening out your dress, you try your best to stifle your laughter as the man walks inside with a brown paper bag full of sandwiches. “Welcome to Everything Nice!” You chime cheerfully, watching as he slowly walks around, grabbing a few extra items here and there before making his way to the counter.

The man’s attire stands out in contrast to your soft pastel purple dress, with pockets you like to point out. His black band tee has been made into a singlet by having the sleeves cut off and his black jeans are paired with some black boots and of course, you wonder where this man came from. “If you want anything else, everything is half-price since we are closing soon.” You smile at him, hoping that maybe his attitude is brighter than his wardrobe. You didn’t manage to get a good look at him earlier while he was strolling his way through the small bakery but when you take in his features, you pause, blinking slowly as you take him in.

Seriously, where in all that is holy did this man come from?

You’ve lived here for a while now, you’ve made friends with some of the locals but never have you laid eyes on this man but then… Why does he feel familiar? Not that you can figure it out right there but you’re certain you’ve never met. Yet, there’s this strange feeling, a flutter in your stomach as your eyes slowly trace over his face, that he is someone important, like a long-lost friend that you’ve forgotten.

Maybe more but surely not.

His deep brown, almost black, eyes are on you as he patiently waits for you to do something other than stare at him – like your job. His features are masculine, strong, and makes you wonder if he was in one of your classes but if you did go to school together, he’d have said something by now right? You have a good memory, most of the time, so you’re certain there’s no connection to him but it doesn’t chase away that feeling. Eerie. The sharpness of his jawline is in direct opposition to the softness of his full lips, which are currently pulled into a frown because instead of working – you’re openly staring at him and probably making him uncomfortable.

Scratch that. Definitely making him uncomfortable.

Clearing your throat, you pull your gaze away from his face with a tinge of pink colouring your cheeks. You hadn’t missed the size of his biceps when he crossed them over his chest while waiting, and the unholiest thought went through your mind in that moment – and a sudden need to know what it would be like to feel them around you.

Chris’ day started about as good as it would go walking across a room filled with mouse traps. As the Alpha of the Moonlight Grove Pack, he’s been stuck in discussion with other neighbouring packs about a peace deal. They’ve had a few close calls with some hunters lately and this way, they can keep under the radar to prevent them from getting any closer than they already are. Most of the Alphas have agreed to the terms of the deal as they all know that this is the best way for them to get through these next few months unscathed.

Hunters are always finding new ways to capture them, to destroy what they consider the darkness that haunts the forests but usually they give up after failed attempts to find a wolf. A lot of these packs have been here for generations, Chris’ pack being one of the oldest and while there are always risks that come with staying in one place, his father refused to run away and so does he.

There have always been talks about fighting back but an all-out war with the hunters isn’t a smart move and while Chris might have a short temper, he likes to play things smart; he’s not the type of Alpha who will rush into a fight without knowing whether he’s going to win or lose. He also doesn’t lose, or particularly like losing. He doesn’t care about wolf pride, he doesn’t care about fighting until his final breath, he couldn’t give a shit about all of that if it means being a mounted fucking head on the wall of some human who happened to be a good shot.

He’d rather keep his pack alive than have them torn apart like he’s seen with other packs.

Some of the rogues, however, are not as eager to back down and comply. They don’t care for peace, they don’t care about following orders and they also don’t care for hunters. This is why they left the packs that they were connected to, not wanting to be tied to some rules that forced them to bow down when they’d rather die fighting. It’s a painful thing to do but for some wolves, it’s better than being what they consider being cowardly.

The wolf rubs his chin as he thinks about the look on his old beta’s face when they stood nose to nose earlier during the meeting. Sure, it was a hit to the gut when he saw Minho standing there with the other rogues, his oldest friend having left the pack a year ago when Chris didn’t retaliate against the death of his mate. It’s not that he didn’t want to – fuck, the wolf in him wanted nothing more than to tear the entire pack apart with his best friend beside him. He wanted to provide vengeance, feel their necks snap in his strong jaws, and taste their blood on his tongue but nobody could have afforded a war then, just like they can’t now, so the Alpha took the diplomatic approach and had the offending wolf rejected from his pack.

It’s forbidden to kill another wolf’s mate, considered one of the most heinous crimes anyone can commit against their fellow wolf kind, and he should have died for the act but it wasn’t going to bring Minho’s mate back.

Minho had left shortly after, not wanting to follow his Alpha’s command about no violence, and sought out revenge on his own. This resulted in him severing his connection to the pack and that was the last time Chris had seen him.

Weak. That was what Minho had called him back then and the word swirls around in his mind as he remembers the incident. Shaking his head, Chris pushes away the thoughts as he rounds the corner to the pastel yellow bakery that he’s been frequenting for the past few months.

Not him directly since Felix, his new second in command, has been collecting his orders but it’s still him who pays for the orders.

He remembers hearing about Everything Nice opening up. The stir that the two sisters created when they moved into town and opened up the bakery was enough to have the Alpha and his pack curious about who they could be. It isn’t unusual for people to come and go but considering that the town isn’t what he would consider a dream location for two young women – their reasons for coming here did cause rumours to fly around. He scoffs, thinking about how easily amused people can be when they have mundane lives of their own because realistically, he couldn’t care less about why they had moved here. The only reason he had been curious was because this was his territory and he wanted to make sure they weren’t going to bring trouble with them.

It makes sense though, a bakery like theirs should be doing well here as it’s a business that has no competition, locals that’ll happily purchase their treats, and during the summer, tourists coming for the beach.

While Chris may not really care about their reason, as he approaches and looks over the sandwiches left outside, he does admit they made really good bread. He fills up a paper bag and heads inside, his nose instantly bombarded with an abundance of smells that make his stomach growl in hunger.

“Welcome to Everything Nice!” A soft and sweet voice calls to him when he enters the bakery, the bell ringing above the door almost unheard as he looks over in her direction briefly before he looks back at the other items in his path, half listening to what she’s saying. Something about deals. Chris hums, more to himself than anything, looking over the pastries and grabbing a few extra items since he knows that the boys will complain about him not bringing them back as much as he can carry.

Who said he was a bad Alpha? Like fuck he is.

When he finally reaches the counter, placing all the bags on the glass bench, he watches as the woman’s eyes widen, her mouth slightly parting in shock and it takes everything in him to refrain from sighing as she openly checks him out. Honestly, it’s not unusual for him to gain this type of reaction from women and it’s usually followed by some type of hair twirl and batting of the eyelashes. In the past, he would have engaged, flirted with them, and gotten their number but today – he doesn’t care… oh?

All that happens is that the woman blushes as she rings everything up on the till.

Interesting.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” Chris’ lip twitches slightly, amused that despite her attempt to seem unaffected, it’s obvious that she is with the way her voice hitches slightly and her heart is racing.

Tilting his head to the side, Chris checks her out with the same openness that she had before, causing her to get more flustered by his actions. There’s something about her, something he isn’t going to try to figure out while everyone is waiting for him so he hums, nodding his head instead of asking for her name.

Maybe he’s fucked her back in university.

“I have an order here, it should be ready by now.” He speaks, his voice softer than usual but still holding that timbre that has most women swooning for him. “The order is under the name ‘Christopher’.”

“Oh?” She sounds a little surprised, confused maybe, but she doesn’t elaborate as she nods her head and turns on her heels to grab a large box from behind her. “I was wondering when he was going to come in, can you tell him I said hi?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, it’s not hard to figure out this woman is under the impression that Felix is him. It’s not surprising really, it’s not like there was a photo attached to his name but surely the beta would have said his name at some point… it’s been months. “Are you close with him?” Felix hasn’t really spoken about her specifically but he does always hear the beta talk about the two sisters and how cute the younger one is, bright and cheerful, as sweet as the cupcakes that they make.

She shakes her head, the softest smile on her face. “Mm, not super close, no. He’s our favourite regular, especially since lately, he brings us flowers.” She brings his attention to the bouquet of freshly picked peonies and it takes everything in Chris not to growl in annoyance. Those are from his garden, he was wondering what was happening to his flowers and why they were oddly disappearing. “We are very happy to have his support!”

Oh, it would be so easy to burst that little bubble of hers but Chris decides that he’s not going to do that – yet. Instead, he takes a deep breath, inhaling in an addictively sweet, sugary scent mixed with the peonies, and forces himself to smile. He’s going to have fun with this, it’s been a while since he was able to fuck around like this so why not pick on the human who doesn’t know better. Not only is Felix never allowed to come and collect his order anymore, but he’s going to see how long he can drag this out.

Does he need to do this? Absolutely not but with everything going on lately, he needs the entertainment.

“Ah, well, I’ll make sure to let him know,” he passes the woman his card, noticing that she doesn’t even bother to check the name on the card as she swipes it down the machine and hands it back to him. “See you next time,” he winks, making that deliciously pink tinge return to her cheeks, grabbing the handles of the bags and heads for the door. “I swear to the fucking Moon Goddess, Felix…” he growls through gritted teeth as the door swings closed behind and he walks with purpose back towards his car.

His peonies? Seriously?

The man comes in to collect the order every time over the next month, the order that is his and you still haven’t figured it out. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t told you that it’s his so how else would you know this? It must really amuse him whenever you pass on your wishes to Felix… or well, him. He walks in, carrying a few extra items from out the front every time, and would even buy a loaf of bread or a small pack of cupcakes on top of the order. “For myself,” he says while you neatly box everything up and place a little discount coupon for him to use the next time he comes in.

You have learned that he’s not one for conversation, choosing to listen unless you directly ask him questions but it’s clear that he’s observing everything around them; like he needs to be aware of his surroundings at all times, which has you wondering who he is for him to be so on edge like that. He’s definitely not famous… maybe it’s an ex that he’s trying to avoid seeing. Sometimes, he makes a few teasing comments that cause your cheeks to heat up because you don’t know whether this insanely attractive man is actually flirting with you or if he’s just pushing your buttons since you’ve been caught several times checking him out.

Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle about it.

“So, are you a part of the ‘everything nice’?” He asks one Friday afternoon, leaning his hip against the counter, arms folded as the black tee he wears strains over the muscles of his chest. Dark, curious eyes twinkling lightly as he looks you up and down before making their way to your face, watching your reaction.

You giggle, playfully rolling your eyes because that isn’t the first time someone has tried their luck with that particular pick up line. Every single guy that has walked into the bakery has tried it but honestly, it almost works with the amount of confidence he spoke with and that smirk on his lips has you feeling like you could melt. He could ask you for anything and you’d probably agree. Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you pack the items. “You do know that you aren’t the first person to say that, right? I’ve had three guys use that on me already.” You shake your head, amused, before entering the total into the EFTPOS machine, and the man hands over the card.

A low hum escapes him as he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, “And you turn them all down because you have someone already?”

“Well, I didn’t say that, did I?” Your lips quirk upwards into a teasing smile as you pass the card back to him, meeting his eyes and you wonder if that’s interest swirling within those dark irises or if he always looks this intense. Probably both. Either way, it really does something to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

He’s about to say something, clearly wanting to be able to continue this, but the ringing of his phone cuts the conversation short and he pulls away. “I’ll see you around, sugar~.” He says as he grabs everything before taking his leave and of course, you watch him as he goes.

Damn, he’s got such a nice ass.

“What is it?” Chris growls lowly into his phone as he walks out of the bakery, not glancing back even though he can feel the pretty woman’s eye on him, watching him closely leaves. Oh, it’s tempting to turn back and watch her fluster when she knows that he caught her staring. The way her cheeks go the loveliest shade of pink every time and her eyes widen like a deer in headlights before trying to busy herself has started to become his favourite reaction yet.

He’s wearing the same style as he always has when he’s come to visit, a black tee that fits him perfectly, sometimes missing the sleeves but always hinting at the strong muscles hiding underneath, and some kind of black pants. His wardrobe doesn’t really have a lot of variety these days but he couldn’t really give a shit about it when he had more to worry about than being some kind of fashion icon. His short black hair isn’t usually styled since he’s often running his fingers through it all day so it’s slightly messy by the time he arrives and while Chris doesn’t care if he looks particularly show stopping – she seems to find it to be with the way she’s looking. Maybe she’s looking for a prospective mate, she seems to be in that age where women are usually doing that, and the way she’s checking him out makes it clear that the woman is single but if a mate is something she’s after… Chris is not the man for her.

Even in the cutest dresses that change every single time he comes in, even when her smile seems to take up all of his attention that he forgets why he’s there, and even when her scent lingers around him, drawing him in – Chris is not the man for her.

He’d be the worst thing to happen to a human and oh, this woman is far too precious to break. Like that, anyway.

A name grabs his attention, pulling his wandering thoughts away from the sweetest thing he’s laid his eyes on and causes his jaw to clench. “He left. What the fuck is he doing hanging around my territory?”

When a wolf leaves the pack they are in, depending on the circumstances they are either forbidden to return or can come and go without consequences. It’s not that Chris has actually told Minho and his little band of wayward followers that they can’t visit the pack territory, it’s more about why they are here. His former beta only comes when he wants something or wants to cause trouble and from the way the wolf has been hanging around lately - something is coming Chris hates that he’s in the dark about it.

“He still hasn’t told you his name?” Serena walks out of the kitchen when the man leaves, watching as you walk back from having locked the door behind him and trying to get one last look at the tasty treat of a man before he disappears for another week. “You’d think that because he’s picking up the order, he would have given you a name too.” She leans a shoulder against the wall and looks at the front door with that disapproving big sister scowl.

Shrugging your shoulders, you pout slightly because she has a good point. You had been meaning to ask for his name, maybe his number, but the chance never really came up since it’s not like he’s very forthcoming with any type of chatter unless he’s flirting and making your poor heart stutter. “If he’s hot then there’s surely going to be some kind of red flag about him,” you recite the saying that you and your friends would say whenever they found a new fling. Spice looks at you for a moment, lips pursed as if she’s about to say something but then decides against it; instead, she sighs and heads over to the register to start the cash up while you put everything away and begin closing down the store.

Usually, you get rather chatty, laughing and playing music as you clean up but tonight, the both of you want to get out of there as quickly as possible. You both have plans, plans that will end the week on a good note and you don’t want to waste a moment since you still need to head upstairs and get ready.

Girls night. It has been a while since you have managed to get your sister to get out to Seoul and you want nothing more than to go catch up with your friends, let loose, and paint the town red. While the town has a nightclub or two, it is always the same people who frequent them and it is so hard to be free for the night when one mistake could end up becoming the town’s gossip the next day.

You also refuse to have to serve the man at any point afterward.

Once everything has been done, you lock the back door behind her, rattling the handle to make sure it’s locked before rushing up the stairs behind Serena. Your two-bedroom apartment is conveniently located above the bakery and helps you both out with travel costs since you don’t need to commute to work. Most people who come from the city might say that it is a downgrade and in a sense, it is; modest and small, half the size of what you once had but it has everything two women could possibly need. You love the space and you don’t have to pay a ridiculous amount of rent for the place. Your bra comes off immediately as soon as you close the door and kick off your shoes. “You know…” You start as you flop down onto the couch and drop the cursed item of clothing onto the floor.

“No,” Serena states as she places her bag down on the table and shakes her head while you lift yours to look over at her, appalled that you were shot down before you could even state your case. “Your breasts are big enough that you will be able to tell that you aren’t wearing a bra. We want people to come into the bakery for our food - not men coming in to stare at your nipples.”

Sitting up, you frown at your older sister like a child who has just been told off by a parent, “That’s rude.” You grumble before getting up and heading to your room. “Since you’re being such a spoilsport, I’m going to use the shower first!” You poke your tongue out before pretending to stomp your feet on your way out.

Serena hums in acceptance as if to simply please the tantrum you’re having while continuing her own routine. You toss your bra into the washing basket in the corner near your bed before going to the wardrobe to browse through your clothes. You want something that’ll catch attention, something that’ll help make sure that the pent-up sexual frustration will be taken care of because you refuse to resort to Tinder in this tiny town. Imagine sleeping with the guy who always messes up your coffee order!

Oh? This should do perfectly. You think to herself as you find a pretty red dress with a very low cut, revealing back.

“You look like you’re going to try and get in trouble.” Your sister comments when she gets out of the shower and finds you sitting at your vanity doing your makeup. You’re taking your time to make sure that you look dangerous, your hair a little wild and your makeup bold, you want to look like you could catch the attention of those mafia boyfriends you love to read about.

Maybe enough to catch the attention of a dangerous man who frequents the bakery. You can only hope.

Smiling proudly, you stand up and twirl around before striking a silly pose, causing Serena to laugh. “Thank you~. I’m going for the deadly Queen vibe.” You pucker your lips, making herself look even more ridiculous in the hopes that it’ll help your sister loosen up about the night. She’s protective, she always has been, and while you love her to the moon and back – she needs to leave that protectiveness behind for one night and focus on getting laid.

Not that you’ll actually tell her that… okay, maybe you will. Who knows what you’ll do? The night is young.

A hand claps on his shoulder, causing Chris to tense briefly before he relaxes and turns his head to face Felix. The younger wolf smiles at the approaching bartender before telling her the orders that the Alpha didn’t provide before. “The whole reason to say you’ll order drinks is to actually, you know, order the drinks, man,” Felix speaks quietly, throwing a concerned look at the other. Chris looks like he’s suffering from a headache from the music but really, the ear-splitting volume isn’t the reason. “You coming back to the table?”

The both of them look over at the table in question and Chris’ upper lips curl, a low grow emitting from deep within his chest. The reason for the possible headache is smiling over at them, waving his fingers before looking around the room. He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, coming to a nightclub to have a serious talk like this but apparently, this is considered neutral ground. Being out of the territory and surrounded by humans would mean that they would all be on their best behaviours but that’s where they underestimate who they are dealing with – Minho doesn’t exactly have a ‘best behaviour’. Scheming, ruthless, and manipulative, Minho has always been good at getting himself into trouble, equally as good at getting out of it too, and this setting wouldn’t actually stop the wolf from causing trouble.

It’ll only stop all of them from starting a fight in a place where hunters could be lurking.

“You could ease up on the alcohol, you know,” Chris says pointedly, helping Felix grab the drinks placed in front of them. It’s not unusual for Felix to be with him since he is the second in command but Felix isn’t a warrior. He was never trained to be a fighter like the betas usually are, he’s smart, and fast but he’s more of a gentle soul. The only reason Felix is with him tonight and not someone like Changbin is because there is too much bad blood between Minho and the other betas and Chris is reducing the drama as much as he can tonight; they might not have a blast but they can get through it alive at least. “Now,” Chris clears his throat when they both approach the table, placing the drinks down before taking a seat and leaning back into the worn black leather. Folding his arms over his chest, he looks at the former pack wolf, eyes narrowing slightly, “We’ve had a few drinks, what the fuck do you want?”

Minho acts like he has all the time in the world as he grabs his drink, ignoring the question while taking a sip. It’s obvious that he’s exerting his freedom, showing he doesn’t have to respond to the Alpha if he doesn’t want to. However, when Minho finally speaks, Chris is sure that he’s had too many drinks to be serious. Alcohol doesn’t affect wolves the same way that it does humans, supernatural healing allows them to filter out the effects faster so it takes a lot to get them drunk but there is no way he said something that fucking insane without being drunk. Chris snorts while Felix coughs into his glass before looking as dumbfounded as the older. “Shall I repeat myself?” Minho says calmly, looking over the rim of his glass at his former Alpha, “I. Want. To. Challenge. You.” Each enunciated word sounds as ridiculous as the first time he said it.

“Are you fucking brain dead? You can’t be serious?” Chris laughs shortly in disbelief.

Minho remains perfectly at ease as he places his glass down, his eyes flash for a moment that has the other two tensing up, “Deadly.” It’s almost like he’s certain he’s going to win, like there is absolutely no way that he could lose. “You’re unmated which means that the leadership of the pack will eventually be up for grabs so why not take my chances early?”

“So you think that you can challenge me now and fucking take over?” His jaw clenches so hard that it feels like his teeth could almost shatter from the tension. “I have a while before I need to worry about–”

“You avoid every mating ceremony, even wolves without packs attend those. Word gets around. The great Christopher Bang refuses to take a mate. Stubborn as fucking always, Chris. You know that having a mate makes us stronger.” Minho knows the right buttons to push, he knows the reasons why Chris won’t accept a mate, and like the master manipulator that he is, he’s using it against him.

For what reason, nobody but he knows.

“Is that what it did for you?” He bites back, his jaw ticking as his hand nearly crushes the glass he’s holding. It’s a shitty comment to throw back at him; Minho was happy when he had his mate and what happened wasn’t his fault at all, it was something nobody could have known would happen, but Chris couldn’t help himself.

He thought that Minho might lose it, might find that stab as painful as the day his mate died and give them away, just so he could have a good reason as to why he wouldn’t accept the challenge but he’s only left disappointed. There’s a flash of gold in Minho’s eyes before he closes them to take a deep breath, settling himself back into the calm state like before. “You can try and get out of this, Chris, but the only way that you can secure your hold is by either accepting the challenge and winning or by finding your mate.” He turns his head as if he is looking for something, maybe someone, eyes scanning the crowds around them, but really, he’s looking for a reason to leave. “You have until the end of the week, Alpha, and if you haven’t decided by then – I’m going to take this to the next meeting.”

With that, Minho gets up and makes his way towards the door, pushing his way through people with Chris glaring after him. “That fucking asshole!” Chris growls deeply, drinking the entire contents of his glass before slamming it back down as he takes deep, heavy breaths. “He’s doing this to start a damn war.”

“Well, don’t let him.” Chris can tell that Felix has somehow gotten distracted, his attention barely on his Alpha and the meltdown he’s currently having but on the two women that Minho is now talking to. The interaction has both of the wolves’ hackles raised as they watch from their seat as Minho leans in close to whisper something in the shorter woman’s ear. “She looks… God, look at her.” He whispers, more to himself than to Chris and it takes everything in him not to snap at the beta for whom he thought Felix was looking at, talking about, thinking of.

It would make sense, right? Felix has been bringing her flowers, talking to her, and giving her a good image of himself, so good that she’s always asking about him. When is he coming back? How is he doing? Did he like last week’s order? Fuck, it drives him crazy that she’s clearly more interested in his beta but it drives him insane that he’s even caring about something like that.

Why wouldn’t Felix like her? She has this air about her that is captivating, even if she isn’t aware of it. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than the peonies Felix has been gifting her. She captures attention with her smile, brighter than the sun, and it makes Chris want to be the reason for such a sight. He wants to be the reason she laughs, a contagious little laugh that makes his own lips curl in response. This woman is the flame and the wolves are the moths that are attracted to her and why wouldn’t they be? Especially now. Fuck sakes, she looks–

“Shit.”

When you walked into the club, arms intertwined with Serena’s, the last thing you expected was some scarily handsome man coming up to you and striking up a conversation. He totally lucked out in the gene pool, his features similar to the men on the covers of her favourite books and that smirk on his lips really does something to her. You are aware that you’ll attract attention tonight because you dressed to impress but hitting the jackpot like this before even stepping onto the dance floor and showing what you’ve got to offer? That’s some type of lottery luck that you don’t think you have.

Serena keeps your arms interlocked as this man talks to you, acting a little too friendly for her liking. Isn’t it strange that he was heading for the door, clearly wanting to leave but all of a sudden, he’s suddenly happy to stand and chat? You clearly don’t have the same mistrust and thought process as your sister but that is because you did drink significantly more and are more susceptible to the sweet compliments he pays. “I’m so sorry for the mistake, doll, I honestly thought you were in my class last year.” He says after a while, pretending that his friendliness was due to him thinking you were someone he knew, “I swear we have met before.”

“Maybe!” You giggle, covering your mouth with your other hand, “maybe you’ve seen me in your dreams~.” The comment is only meant to be a joke, a little flirtatious comment said offhandedly and not meaning anything at all but his eyes darken slightly.

Leaning in, his hand rests on your waist to keep you close enough for him to whisper in your ear. You shiver slightly, the alcohol confusing your fear for excitement, while Serena tenses at his closeness. Clearly, one of them is thinking about the intentions of this stranger. “Little lamb, I would be very careful about whose dreams you choose to wander into~. You never know what’ll happen in them.”

Blinking, confused, you laugh slightly to cover up the feeling of uncertainty about whether he just flirted with you or if he had threatened you. Surely not the latter, right? You don’t know him, why would he threaten you like that? However, there’s no time to ask or linger on the thought since the stranger is bowing politely and bidding you both goodnight, leaving without waiting for a response and causing you to watching him go.

What a strange interaction. Did he mean that the dreams could be spicy? That has to be it, right? Surely, he didn’t threaten you…

Your sister pulls you towards the bar and your head turns back to the door for a moment, running it through your mind briefly before shaking your head. He’s a fish that’s gone back into of fish, there’s no need to waste time thinking about a failed catch – there’s plenty more to lure in and hook. “What a weirdo,” Serena grumbles under her breath as she waves her hand to catch the attention of the bartender.

You nod slightly, “Yeah…” Immediately, the encounter is gone out of your mind as the DJ starts to play your favourite song, almost like everything is telling you to not focus on what happened and focus on what could happen. “Oh my God!” You squeal, turning to Serena and giving her arm a tug, “Come and dance with me!”

Out of the two, you have always had the passion for dancing, originally you wanted to be a ballerina before your parents pushed you towards a career choice that would ‘actually make money’. Serena never really had the same excitement as you did so while one practices and takes classes in her spare time, the other has two left feet.

Brushing you off, Serena shakes her head which has you whining slightly before looking out to the dance floor longingly and then back to the bar before the decision is made. “You know what I want!” You kiss your sister’s cheek, “I’m going to dance! Come find me when you have our drinks!” You dash towards the crowd, narrowing missing the way that two men are watching you and Serena with curiosity and interest.

It's not unusual for you to rush off, especially when you’re drunk. You have always lived your life a little more carefree than your older sister, even while you were studying hard in university, you never sacrificed your social life for sleepless nights in the library. Healthy and balanced lives keep you mentally sane – that’s what you would tell Serena whenever the older worked herself too hard and you were dragging her out to have fun. Whenever the opportunity came to let loose, to go out and do something crazy, you never failed to take the chance with both hands simply to see where the night would end.

The night usually ended in someone’s bed but hey, at least they were cute!

Closing your eyes, you move in time with the music, letting your body move freely and the more into it you get – the wider your smile becomes. You don’t notice the bodies around you, anyone who might be too close to you because everyone is doing exactly what you’re doing – living in their own world on the dance floor. A slave to the music, hypnotised by the atmosphere, you close your eyes and let your body move however the beat wants it to. You don’t notice when a firm body presses against your back, calloused fingers ghosting over your hips, not touching but close to, the tease of the connection has you leaning against him and allowing the stranger to pull you closer, moving in time with you.

The anonymity of the strong body behind you keeps your eyes closed as you raise your hands to wrap around behind his neck, head resting against his shoulder, tilting to the side as you can feel his hot breath against your neck. You can feel electricity rushing through your veins where he’s touching you and it’s like you’re one, bodies moving in time with each other. His large hands hover over your wrists as you bring them down before your fingers intertwine and wrap around your stomach to keep you against him. Everything in your body is alive with a fire that you’ve never felt before, so sensitive as his fingers trace as light as a feather over your body, having you react in ways that shouldn’t be so easily pulled with such little effort. It is like he knows every string to strum, a musician knowing how to play you with a skill that should take a lifetime to master, not seconds, and you’re merely the willing instrument wanting to sing for him.

Soft pillowy lips rest on your pulse and you instinctively give more access, wanting to feel the pressure even if it’s for the briefest of moments. The world no longer exists, your name unheard over the music because all you can focus on, all you know in this moment is your stranger. Nothing else matters, nothing but him, you, and this feeling blossoming within you.

A growl erupts from those lips, so tantalisingly close, and vibrates through his chest before the warmth that you feel, the firmness of his muscles against your back, and the moment that you’re wrapped in is gone and you take a while to fully realise that it has left.

“What…?” You blink, opening your eyes a little too late to catch his retreating back push through the crowd, towards the door. It takes another second longer to figure out where you are before you see Serena, waving at you from a booth with your drink getting warmer by the minute. Running your fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face, you let out a sigh of disappointment and head over to your sister, hoping that she saw the man that you were dancing with. “Did you—”

She must have known exactly what you were thinking because Serena shakes her head, making you pout as you dramatically plop down in the seat next to her. “No, when I saw you dancing, his head was lowered to your neck, it looked like he was kissing it.” You subconsciously rub the spot where you had felt his lips, faintly feeling a tingle there, before reaching for your drink and consuming almost half the glass. “I couldn’t see his face but from the size of him, he would have been your type. What happened?”

You think about it for a moment, trying to remember what exactly happened but the moment you felt him against you, everything blurred together and you couldn’t even figure out what was going on. You were alone, he was there for what felt like a magical moment, and then you were alone again. Shrugging, you groan and bury your face into your hands. Seriously? He could have been the perfect man to break your dry spell with and now you’re not going to be able to even think about anyone else because you’ll be too busy dreaming about what it would have been like to be broken by what felt like a God.

“Of course, I’m going to obsess over this mystery man.” You grumble to yourself as you take a sip of your cocktail, staring out into the crowd as if you could catch a glimpse of him.

Tsk, what crappy luck.

“What-”

“Shut it.”

“Chris, wow, she was-”

Felix’s back meets the brick wall with Chris’ nose almost touching his, the younger is now on the tips of his toes thanks to the hold he’s in. The older wolf is breathing heavily, almost like he’s gulping down the outside air to get rid of her scent. “Don’t fucking say it, you hear me? Don’t even think it. If you say anything to anyone about what just happened then I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to you.” The image is vivid and Felix nods before Chris shoves away from him and storms off in the direction of the car.

Chris doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about her. He doesn’t want to think about the way she looked, the way she smelled, oh, the way she could have tasted. The last thing that Chris wants to think about right now is her, especially when his body is coiled and ready to stalk back into that club so that he can drag her out. Kiss her. Claim her.

Do everything that he’s refused to do.

Chris has been talking to her, has been in the same space as her a few times now, and never, not once, had he thought about her afterward… Well, actually, that’s a lie, isn’t it? He has thought about her but it wasn’t anything serious, just a few thoughts here and there. Sure, he couldn’t get her scent out of his system whenever he was there but that’s because it was always mixed in with the bakery. How could he get rid of it when he would be surrounded by it the moment he walked into the bakery and then had it linger on the packaging that she’d give him? There’s no other reason as to why he can pick it up anywhere he’s been, not one… Fuck! He should have known it from the moment he saw her, from their first conversation, he hated the way that she was so taken by Felix and his angelic sweetness; he should have known but the Alpha was far too preoccupied with everything else going on that it just didn’t register.

It all hit him like a fucking freight train when he saw her tonight though. The way her outfit fit her perfectly, making her look like one of the delicious treats her sister makes so well, something to be savoured, tasted only with the finest palate because everything about her is perfection and deserves only the best. Try as he might, Chris could not deny the overwhelming jealousy that had reared its ugly head when Minho stopped to talk to her – which got even worse when Chris could pick up on his scent still lingering on her skin when he got close.

It still bothers him actually. It bothers him that out of all the people in the club, Minho somehow managed to single her out and spoke to her – despite how he clearly made her sister feel. She seemed to have a normal reaction, a reaction that a prey would have around a predator because something in the back of their mind knows that danger is close, that a monster, a killer, is nearby… would she think that about him?

She didn’t seem to have the same reaction that her sister did, she didn’t recoil from him but instead flashed the prettiest smile until he said something that wiped it from her soft lips…

Jesus, fuck, he needs to stop thinking about her.

Chris shakes his head, refusing to let those thoughts continue their rampage on his mind. He’s thinking about Minho speaking to her and what purpose he had for it, not thinking about how she might have felt or marvelling at her beauty.

Damn, Chris, get your head on straight.

It’s like Chris couldn’t keep himself away from her when she walked onto the dance floor; she had walked right past him and didn’t even notice him but it honestly didn’t matter because he was zoned in on her. So much so, that when her body started moving so flawlessly, she was a siren and Chris was nothing more than a helpless sailor diving into the deep to answer her call. Of course, he lies to himself about how he didn’t want to touch her right away, he didn’t want to claim ownership right then and there even though… his wolf knows that he wanted to. He knew that he couldn’t claim her right there, that she needed to come to him, to open up to him, accept his advances for him to cave, and when she did – everything clicked into place.

He never thought it would feel like that. He never thought that someone could feel like an extension of himself but now that he knows… How can he possibly forget that feeling?

She’s going to be his downfall, his destruction, and fuck, he doesn’t know whether he actually wants to fight it.

Anyone would think that Chris realising that this woman is his mate would mean that he’d dote on her, that he’d go out of his way to make her day better.

No. Oh, lordy no.

Despite how much his body is drawn to her, no matter how badly his wolf calls for her in the back of his mind, the Alpha refuses to give in to the pull of his mate and since she isn’t aware, sweetly oblivious to the supernatural world and werewolves, it makes it easier for him to remove the obstacle. Well, the easiest way to get rid of her, to stop their paths from crossing, would be to stop ordering those delicious treats from the bakery, to stop going and collecting them for the chance to see her, but Chris refuses to be weak.

He is also an idiot who seems to not understand that always doing things the hard way isn’t going to get him ahead.

Fighting a mate bond, even one that hasn’t been established, is one of the stupidest things a wolf can do. Even if they reject their mates, a wolf will always feel that bond because it’s predestined, something that really isn’t within their control but who is going to tell him that?

“You’re coming with me.” Chris orders, turning to look at Felix who is sitting next to him in the car. He was stopping to pick up his order before they had to go and see one of the visiting Alphas; Chris has decided that he’s going to keep placing this order because, after today, the sweet scented woman will never want to see him again and he can move on with his life. It’ll be easy after this, in and out, or he can send Felix – an idiot’s plan but what is he? He can’t reject her, that wouldn’t really work and the Alpha knows that so he needs to make sure that their paths cross as little as possible, don’t let her become more of a temptation than she already is, and there’s one way that he can do that.

He just needs to make her look and feel like a fool.

Ever since day one, he’s allowed her to believe that Felix was him, he’s played into it the entire time because while he hated the way that her smile would light up whenever she spoke about the beta – it meant that he could pretend that she would smile whenever she talked about him too. A smile so contagious that his own lips curl up as he thinks about it until he remembers why he’s here.

Chris knows that this would make her dislike him, hate him even, because while he hates the cursed apps and is often teased for being a dinosaur – he found her dating profiles the other day. On accident, or so he says. He had read it and found out her name, her age, and her Instagram, something he also decided to check out and spent way too much time looking at. He researched this woman, his destined mate, Y/N – that’s your name and during his research, Chris managed to find out that not only did you dislike it when men didn’t make the effort to make plans, you also hate when people pick on and tease other people.

You’re so soft, so sweet, fuck, you’re everything he isn’t. Isn’t it perfect? He can be everything you hate and that would be enough for the bond to remain as a faint tug in the back of his mind. The more he ignores it, the more you stay away from him, the easier it’ll get and he can carry on with life as he always has.

“Let’s go.” He grumbles, getting out of the car and slamming the door a little too aggressively while Felix throws him a look of concern. The younger wolf knows that something is going on but because Chris isn’t going to open up and tell anyone what it is – he goes along with it even if he can tell that his Alpha is on edge.

Not… bad. No, it’s not like how he is when Minho is around or whenever Chris is pulled into a meeting with the other Alphas. There’s just something there, lurking beneath the surface, that has Chris’ jaw tense and fingers flexing at his sides like he’s ready to fight.

“Hello, welcome to- oh!” Your voice raises an octave when you realise who has walked into the bakery, “You’re early! Chris! Hey!” Chris tries to avoid looking at you directly, which would be funny if this was any other reason but he just knows that the moment he sees your smile, the smile that makes your eyes sparkle like they hold all the stars within them, he will lose his resolve to do this.

He can’t. He needs to do this. You are not made for this world and besides, he doesn’t want a mate, he’s never wanted a mate and because of that – it’s better this way.

Felix is already at the counter, chatting away to you while Chris takes a deep breath and pushes down all the guilt that bubbles up in his throat, reminding himself that this is for the best. If he tells himself enough, he may convince his wolf to believe it. His eyes meet yours as if you were waiting for him to look at you, and a cocky smirk spreads across his lips as he makes his way over to the counter. Leaning against it, getting close, Chris looks you up and down before holding your gaze, “Say my name again, sugar.”

“Say my name again, sugar” It takes you a moment to register what he has said because you’re still confused about how quickly he just changed up. One minute it looked like he didn’t want to be there, like he didn’t want to get anywhere near you which was strange. You have never had a man actively avoid you like that except your ex in university who had fucked up so badly that being anywhere near you would have resulted in bodily harm. The man had been hanging back, avoiding your eyes, not engaging with you in any way but now?

You blink a couple of times and look at the man who you think is Chris, tilting your head like he might give you some insight about what is going on but he’s now avoiding looking at you, looking guilty. While you do not know these men outside of the few interactions you’ve shared with them in the bakery – you can tell that something is going on and you’re the only one not privy to what it is.

“C’mon,” the man folds his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you as if you’re not understanding him. He must know that this is so out of the left field, right? He must know that anyone would be confused by the way he’s going about this because he couldn’t have switched up that quickly… could he? You don't actually know this man, you don't even know his name so judging him based on the small interactions they’ve had in the past is a mistake when he could be the complete opposite. “You seem like a smart woman, surely you’ve figured out my name by now.” It’s a statement, not a question, implying you should know.

You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion, before shaking your head and taking a small step back. “No?” You answer slowly, drawing out the sound of the word. “You’ve never told me your name.”

There’s a glint behind his eyes, as if he’s seen a weakness in you that he can now exploit and his lip curls up into something that’s more like a sneer than a smirk. “Who is the order for, sugar?”

“Christopher Bang.” You answer in the same confused tone, looking over at ‘Chris’ for help with this questioning but the man is looking like he wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole. His hands are playing with the front of his shirt while his blonde locks fall into his eyes as he looks at the other man. Whatever is going on, he wishes he didn’t have to witness it and that doesn’t bode well for you.

The man nods his head, continuing with his game. “And who is Christopher Bang?”

“Ch-” The blonde is about to say something but a warning growl rumbles through the other’s chest and he shuts his mouth quickly, looking down while chewing his bottom lip. This raises more alarm bells in her head, the type that should warn you to back away before you fall into the trap set up by the predator before you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice not sounding as strong as you want it to be. You don't want to play whatever weird game he’s trying to get you to participate in. You were actually excited to see the both of them but now, you just want him to get his shit and leave. You may be sweet, you may be the softest petal on a rose but you tire quickly of the games men play. If you aren't going to let your ex make a fool of you then you’re not going to let a stranger play with you.

Shaking his head and clicking his tongue almost in disappointment, the man meets your eyes, looking amused out of all things. “I’m asking the questions, sugar, be a good girl and answer them.” Okay, who the fuck does this man think he is? “Who is Christopher Bang?” You look over at the blonde as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world and he scoffs, “and why do you think that?”

You originally had thought that he was nice, hot actually, maybe you had even been working up to asking for his number or flirting to see if he would be interested in the slightest. He looks like he was plucked out of one of your books and dressed like the guy you should avoid but secretly has a heart of gold. Sadly, he’s just radiating the same energy your ex has now and while the switch up is extremely confusing – it’s also extremely disappointing.

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, “because–” Because what? You made the assumption that he was Chris because he always came and grabbed the order so when things changed and someone else collected it, you just went along with it. You were never corrected whenever you spoke about ‘Chris’, you were never told that this man wasn’t who you thought he was and that Chris was in fact someone else. You had made an assumption based on the limited information that was given and was led to believe that you were right because nobody said otherwise.

Oh, those bells are screaming now.

The realisation must have become clear on your burning red face since the man questioning you begins to laugh as you piece it all together. You bite you tongue, unable to curse him out since he’s a customer in the store. As much as you want to, you can’t yell at him and cause a scene but oh, do you really want to do it. You’re sure that if you did, Serena wouldn’t tell you off… maybe… maybe all you have to do is say that he’s been playing you for a fool and your older sister will give him a piece of her mind too. You’re screaming in your head at all the scenarios playing in your mind about how he must have been finding this so entertaining, silly girl on the counter, thinking he was someone else.

God, you must have sounded so stupid!

Asshole!

Bastard!

God, you hate very little things in this world but one of the things that make you angrier than finding out that your ex was cheating on you, is being made to feel like you’re an idiot. You know you look like you’re just a pretty face, someone too sweet and soft for their own good and yes, you’ve had people take advantage of your kindness but you are not a fool. You’re smart, you’re stronger than you look, and having people rub your mistakes in your face like you should have known better when anyone could have done the same – enrages you.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him with as much disdain as you can muster while simultaneously smiling. A forced smile, that much is obvious. Chris, now you can put a name to the face, might think that you’re some kind of fool but you aren't going to let him use this against you or laugh at you like you’re stupid. You refuse to allow this insignificant man to hold something like this in his grasp and wield it like a sword; you’ve dealt with worse men in university, hell, you dated worse men than him. The type of men who view you as someone who is easily torn down, naïve, a target to poke at whenever you make mistakes but you’re not weak, you’ve changed. You refuse to be that girl over something like this so you’re not letting him see that it bothers you but you do allow him to see the icy glare that you’ve perfected over the years.

“Here’s your order.” You say through your grin, boxing everything up and pushing it towards him. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, he can keep waiting for that.

Holding out your hand for the card, telling him the total, you wait to get this over and done with but it seems Chris isn’t finished playing. Just because you don't want to be a part of the game that he’s decided he’s won, for some reason, he still wants to play. “Check the name on the card next time,” he smirks as he places his card in your hand, both of you clutching it while staring at each other for a brief moment. Daggers are being shot from your softer eyes while his darker eyes narrow slightly as he lets out a soft scoff and releases the card. “Next week, I want this order doubled since I’ll be entertaining guests.”

He is just like your ex. Gross.

Rolling your eyes as you type the numbers into the machine and finish paying, you hand the card back to him, “You can make that order online. As you always do.”

“I’m telling you now, you can put it in for me.”

“Sorry,” you smile falsely, “that’s not my job. You can put it through the system properly.” Honestly, you could take the order now and do it for him, you’ve done it many times before whenever someone calls up and orders but since he’s pissed you off, no, he doesn’t get to boss you around like he owns the place. Seriously, who does he think he is?

As if on cue, Serena walks through the doors and looks at the three of them with a questioning brow raised. She had heard parts of the conversation and wanted to make sure you weren't being harassed by the customer. “Sugar,” she says the pet name with an inclination of her head, indicating for you to come with her. “I need your help in the kitchen before we close up, are you alright to come and give me a hand?”

You are thankful that Serena waits and doesn’t leave you with the walking asshole and his suddenly quiet, nameless friend. “If that’s everything,” you mumble, no polite lilt to your voice, no smile that reaches your eyes, just a simple bow of your head as you walk away with the two men watching you go. You shake your head when walking past Serena, not wanting to talk about it right now before pushing through the doors and the moment you’re out of Chris’ view, you scream. You don't care if he hears you, you don't care if he never comes back, you need to get it out before you explode.

“Ugh! What a DICK!”

Chris chuckles when he hears you scream, the sound so loud that even if he was human, he’d have heard it loud and clear. Grabbing the food, he strolls out of the bakery with your curses and insults following after him. Felix walks beside him, looking back at the store but doesn’t bother to say a word until they are both in the car, food placed safely in the back seat.

He can tell that the younger is mulling over his words, the steam is almost coming out of his ears. “What is it, Lix?”

“Did you really have to go that far?” This is the exact question Chris is almost asking himself as it settles into his mind that he has effectively, even if unknowingly, pushed a button that his mate hates enough to name him public enemy number one. He knows he didn’t need to push you that far, that he could have just avoided you and your sweet scent for the entire time that you remained in his town, on his territory, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk you smiling at him on the street and Chris forgetting where he was, he couldn’t risk you being near him and Chris wanting nothing more than to feel your skin under his fingertips. Chris may not have needed to go to such an extreme but he did have to do something that would mean you’d avoid him as equally as he’s going to avoid you.

Did he really have to go that far? “Yes.” He says gruffly, the good mood he just had dissipating as he starts the car and heads towards the pack house.

Felix doesn’t say a word, he knows better than to question Chris even if he feels like he’s doing the stupidest shit ever. Chris, while not known to often be doing dumb shit, likes to think that everything he does is for a reason. Any action that would be considered personal always seems to cause him some kind of pain but whenever it comes to actions that involve the pack – he never falters in what is before for them. Except now. As much as Chris will argue it, even if the beta won’t bring it up as a way to avoid his Alpha snarling at him and telling him to walk home, Felix knows that Chris finding and accepting his mate is what is best for the pack in so many ways.

First off, it’s no secret that the dude needs to get laid.

The other reason is because wolves are stronger with their mates, werewolf or not, there’s this connection between them and their mates that seems to heighten everything about them. A wolf will find their mate’s attention and care to be healing, having them close makes them stronger and when it comes to the future of the pack – a pup born from a mated couple is blessed by the Moon Goddess. It’s why a lot of the current pack is the way it is because Chris’ parents – mates themselves – made sure to encourage the rest of the pack to find their counterparts.

Everyone does it, and everyone is willing to accept it – except the current Alpha himself.

“Are you sure?” Serena asks, watching you pace through the kitchen, hyping yourself up and giving yourself a not-so-quiet pep talk to get through the day. “It’s okay if you want me to go out and deal with him today.” She knows that this has really been getting to you over the past month and while you try to play it off like you’re okay – every interaction that you have with Chris causes you to scream in the walk-in pantry afterward. Honestly, if they had any mice in there, they definitely would have scurried away and moved out with how intense you had gotten.

Once a week would have been tolerable. Once a week would have meant that all she had to do was deal with Chris coming in and paying for his order before screwing your face up at him as he walked out the door. Once a week should have been all you would have to put up with but it seems this asshole of a man has decided that you need to see him more just to make it clear that you hate him. It’s like he’s a masochist and gets off on the sarcastic responses and cold glares you throw in his direction. Chris has his usual order which he always comes with Felix to collect now, the younger happily chatting away to Serena like a little puppy while Chris keeps saying shit that makes you want to strangle his perfectly biteable neck. He’s somehow decided though, once a week is not enough, and now Chris comes in randomly just because he’s ‘hungry’.

That’s a lie and you both know it.

He comes because he knows that it puts you on guard, it causes your entire body to react to him even when you try your best to ignore his presence and focus on the other customers in the store. You’re sure that he loves it, a Grade A asshole like what you dealt with in class, you can see the smirk on his stupidly plump lips whenever you stutter over certain words and throw daggers in his direction. Chris seems to have found a way to be able to get under your skin even when you try and tell yourself that he means nothing. He’s crawled under and hit every single nerve by simply existing and with every encounter, it messes with your head. Your dreams. Your reality basically because you’re sure that you see him even when you’re out and about.

You need to get this man out of your system before you become insane.

Serena has offered to take over, to deal with him instead but you refuse to seem weak, to run away when he’s clearly doing this as some weird dominance thing – not that it makes sense since you don't care about him. “I’m okay,” you nod your head, jumping up and down on the spot and shaking your hands to try and hype yourself up. Serena can’t help but chuckle at your antics and while there’s this big sister protective urge to deal with Chris, she finds it amusing.

“This is really giving enemies to lovers, like those books you love to read.” She teases and you gasp in shock that Serena has actually listened to your ramblings about your recent reads – and horror at the suggestion. “I’m just saying!”

“Ew! No!” You shake your head, “no. This is not that! That is hot, sexy, ugh, their slow decline into falling in love while denying that it’s possible– no. He’s not even close to that!” Serena chuckles, humming like she believes you. “He’s not going to win this!”

“Sugar! This isn’t some competition that you can win?” She sounds surprised by your words even though she knows that you refuse, and always have refused, to be beaten by any man. Even after being cheated on, even after having text messages shared throughout your class, you had to come out on top out of spite. Your stubbornness is the reason why you managed to get through university and also making sure this store has been able to flourish in the way that it has.

“Sure it is,” you say as you stop moving and take a deep breath as if you’re about to step into the ring, “clearly he has his head so far up his ass that he thinks he means something. You see the way he walks in here? Like he’s some sort of king and everyone around him is his loyal servant who should drop to their knees and kiss his feet.” You scoff, snatching your apron off the hook and wrapping the strings around your waist to tie it at the back. “I’m not going to let him think that he’s getting to me. Nothing pisses men like him off more than giving back the same attitude that they give to others. He wants to play this game then it’s time to step up and play it better than he can.” You aren't someone who likes to be confrontational, a soft soul who prefers to take the gentle approach but sometimes even the soft ones are pushed to their breaking points.

Serena simply watches as you walk out the front, slightly speechless but mostly amused about the whole situation. There’s no point stopping you and honestly, it’s about time someone has caught your attention – even if it’s in the worst way because Serena has seen you look at those pictures on your phone of your ex that you haven't deleted yet.

Putting on your best smile, you greet the store, even when the man you were just talking about is standing in the store, a basket in his hand as he browses the freshly baked breads. “Good morning, welcome to ‘Everything Nice’.” You don't falter with your overly cheerful tone even if you weren't expecting to deal with him this early in the day. You had barely finished opening the store before heading into the kitchen so Chris must have been hanging around, waiting for that sign to switch from ‘closed’ to ‘open’.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He’s not getting another win today. Chris will not leave the store with another mark on the proverbial scoreboard against you. Today, you will claim a victory in this war even if it only adds fuel to the fire.

“You’re here early, Chris.”

Why he’s here, he doesn’t know, or that is what he keeps telling himself every single time he enters the store. Chris tells himself that he’s doing this because he needs you to curse his very name, he needs to ruin every and any chance there could be for a bond to form. He could have just left it as it was when he dropped the bomb that day but for some reason, Chris finds himself heading to ‘Everything Nice’ more than he cared to before.

You need to hate him.

He needs to make sure that you hate him.

The food is good.

You smell better than the food.

He just wants to make sure you’re doing okay…

Even though Chris tells his lies to himself and everyone around him, it boils down to the fact that he is the cause of your negative emotions and it has him wanting to make sure that you’re okay. Even when he says things that only cause the fire behind your soft eyes to burn brighter, even when he doesn’t stop himself from acting like a royal ass, Chris needs to be around you even when he’s trying to avoid you.

Unsuccessfully avoid you.

The moment that he sees you walk out in his peripheral vision, it seems like every nerve in his body becomes alive and alert which pushes his own buttons because he’s trying so fucking hard not to respond to you, and yet, his body betrays him. Hearing your voice, the way you’re feigning kindness makes the wolf smirk as he walks over and leans against the counter, meeting your glare head on. “I heard that the bread is even more delicious when freshly baked so I thought I’d grab some to take home for lunch.”

You hum, nodding your head like you care about what he has to say but he can see the temptation to roll your eyes lingering just behind those pretty eyelashes. Fuck, he shouldn’t want to count them, watch them fall softly against your cheeks as you fall asleep in his arms. With the way his thoughts are going, he has to try his best not to give in right then and there when you lean closer. “So you decided to grab it right when the bakery opened?”

Oh, he hears that tone, and hell, he shouldn’t feel proud learning that there’s a fighter underneath all those times you took his shit. He knew you had it in you and now seeing it? Makes you more attractive.

“To be one of the first customers of the day to grab fresh bread? I have a tendency to be the first in everything I do.” He says with an upward quirk of the corner of his lips, the words having a double entendre which you don’t seem to catch onto – or if you do, you don’t show it.

“Mhm, good for you, the bread is over there, Chris. Not here.” You point to the other side of the store before going to the viewing window to grab some fresh baking that Serena has put on the sill.

His jaw ticks slightly as he realises that he’s not going to get the fight that he wants from you. He expected you to get a little more worked up than this but instead, you are effectively brushing him off like an insolent child and Chris refuses to be treated like that. Even if that’s how he’s been acting. Heading over to the bread, he watches as you carefully place the fruit tarts on a tray and slides them into the chilled cabinet sitting under the counter. “What do you recommend?” You pretend not to hear him, humming softly to yourself as Chris chuckles before loudly clearing his throat and asking his question again when you look at him.

A deep sigh leaves your lips, a dramatic rise and fall of your shoulders shows that you’re not really hiding your reactions to his annoyances. You don’t move from your spot, simply looking over at him as you point in the general direction of the bread. “The bacon and cheese pull apart bread is one of our best sellers. You can warm it up and have it with some butter – it doesn’t need anything more than that.”

“What’s your favourite, sugar?”

The use of your nickname, even if he doesn’t know it is, causes you to pause and narrow your eyes ever-so-slightly. You raise an eyebrow, clearly wondering what his angle is, and Chris shrugs nonchalantly, “People tend to speak highly of the things that they like. So, sugar, what is your favourite?” He watches, examining the way that you contemplate answering truthfully before pulling your mask back down and shaking your head, “wonderful customer service.” A low blow and he knows it, he’s the one pushing, being an ass, and you’re simply trying to do her job. “First, you don’t even know my name and have been giving my order to someone else, then you ignore me unless you have to talk to me, and now,” he shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest and he swears he can feel the daggers you’re throwing at him with your eyes. “I’m simply asking a question and you aren’t going to answer it?”

He can faintly hear you grinding your teeth together from where he stands, watching as you try to control yourself but Chris can also hear your heart racing in your chest, the deep breaths that you take – all it’ll take is one more push. If he pushes a little further, he might be able to get you to snap…

“Oh, what about how you were talking shit about me, a loyal customer, while I was in the store?”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks heated up because it was obvious that you didn’t think you were so loud that Chris would have been able to overhear every single word you had said. You weren’t actually, you had managed to contain herself quite well except for that one time, but you didn’t need to know the specifics, right? It would only take away the fun of the tease if you knew that Chris is a werewolf with supernatural hearing.

Grabbing a loaf of the bacon and cheese bread, because that actually does sound pretty delicious and the smell of the bacon is making him salivate, Chris walks to the counter with the basket of food that he’s collected. “So, what do you have to say for yourself, hm?” He says in a mocking tone, sounding like a father reprimanding his child.

“What?” You ask, shocked he would talk to you like that. Your shock fades almost immediately and you scoff, folding your arms over your chest, and glare pointedly at him, “Do you want an apology or something?”

Humming, Chris smirks with a nod, “Sure, if you don’t mind, sugar~.”

Opening your mouth as if you were about to answer, Chris is left disappointed when you close it again and begin to pack up the food. “Your order won’t be ready until later today but if you would like, your friend Felix can come and collect it for you. Since I know who he is now, at least we both know it’ll reach you. Chris.” You pass over the bag and Chris takes it before you drop it, trying to avoid accidentally touching his hand at all costs.

“That won’t be necessary.” He smiles kindly, knowing it’s only going to annoy you even more, “I’ll be back at my usual time to collect.”

“Great.” You utter under your breath before finishing up with him and turning back to your work, while Chris heads to the car feeling like he had just won. Maybe it’s not a sweet victory like the previous times, this time you had given him a bit more of a push back but oh, seeing how you react when he’s close makes him feel victorious.

He should leave you alone now. He knows he should. There’s no reason for him to keep coming around now, especially since you obviously don’t want to see him. This should be it, this should be the end of it all…No, it will be. Chris nods as he sits in his car momentarily to remember your scent. He takes a moment to remember every small thing about you, even if you hate him now, he wants to remember all he can because today is the last day he steps foot into ‘Everything Nice.’

You didn’t know it was going to be the ‘last time’ that you’d see him. You couldn’t have guessed that when he came back to collect his order that final time, everything in your life was about to change. You had no idea that Chris hanging around the bakery, annoying you, and pushing your buttons was actually the main reason why you were safe but also a target for something that you could never have prepared for.

All you want is to get him in and out as quickly as you can. The moment you see the man walk through the door, you are packing up his order and placing it on the counter before he can arrive. You’re focused, refusing to acknowledge any of his little quips that are about to come but it surprises you when Chris simply hands over his card without a single word.

No quips, no mocking, nothing at all.

“Nothing to say?” You ask, unable to help yourself from starting a fight. You usually wouldn’t, you typically prefer to keep the peace but being so close to this man makes you want to fight without any reason to pick one. Swiping the card, you input the amount and push the machine towards Chris but instead of responding, he shrugs his shoulders without even glancing at you. You take the moment of silence to look him over, noticing that his posture is stiff, uncomfortable and there’s a tick in his jaw that is ridiculously too attractive for a man with his attitude. Everything about him right now is the opposite of the man who acted like he owned the place. He looks like he can’t wait to get out of there just as quickly as you want him gone.

But, that’s the problem.

You want him gone. You want him out and now that it looks like he does too, you want him to pick a fight. Nobody has gotten such a reaction from you since university, since your ex and you swore you wouldn’t resort to that type of low again…

“Are you really not going to say anything?” You pushed, your brow furrowed slightly in both annoyance and confusion. Chris spares you a look before letting out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it the whole time; grabbing his order, he pauses for a moment like he’s about to say something but decided against it. He turns his broad back on you so he can leave and you scoff, shaking your head, hell no, you’re not letting him just walk away like this!

You move quickly from behind the counter, grabbing him by the bicep before he makes it to the door. “Let go.” Chris pulls his arm back with enough force to loosen your hold and goes for the exit before you can chase after him – it doesn’t mean you don't though.

Chris has barely made it a few metres from the store, clearly trying to get away as fast as he can before he halts due to you calling out his name. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t look over his shoulder. No, he simply stands in the street with his back to you while you speak. “After everything this morning, after everything these last few weeks, you’re really going to just… give up?” You sound so desperate, a whine to your voice that almost sounds pained and you can’t understand why. This is what you’ve been wanting ever since he started to act like a right ass but you can’t just let this go, not when it started out of nowhere and seems to have ended just as abruptly.

You need something more. An explanation. A reason.

Somewhere along the way, even though you refuse to voice it, you started to look forward to fighting with Chris. A sick little game being played that made you so mad but when life follows the same script every day – even a negative change can help you feel alive. Sure, he pisses you off and you’ll say you hate him but your life has been so quiet lately, mundane, following the same routine over and over again, and the fighting seemed to give you something that was different from your norm. Somewhere along the way, you had started to rely on the rush that you got every time you fought, just to feel something more than boredom.

God, you sound like you need to go to therapy.

While you and Chris are standing there, neither of you speaking, simply remaining in place, neither notices that you are being watched. You never expected to be watched so you wouldn’t have been keeping an eye out for it but Chris should have been aware of the attention that he was bringing you. Himself. Neither of you notice that there’s a small group hiding just out of plain sight and watching the way the Alpha is frozen, clearly struggling to leave his mate behind. You’re so unaware of the connection between you but yet, you can’t let him go.

A smirk spreads across a wolf’s lips, a snicker coming from the man next to him while the other blows out a lung full of smoke and tosses his cigarette onto the ground while scowling at the scene. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice rough and gravely.

Minho nods, keeping quiet for a moment longer until Chris begins to walk away and you stand there, watching a little while longer before giving up and heading back inside, shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m positive. I didn’t know it when I met her at the club that night. Funnily enough, I thought she was Felix’s mate with the way that beta was always going to the bakery but it seems the Alpha was having his second in command act as a delivery boy.” The man moves out from the hiding spot that gives them the perfect view of the bakery, “Chris has been going there a lot more than he needs to. Knowing him, he’s reasoning with himself as to why he needs to be around her but clearly, he’s pushing her away.” The scene they just saw shows that Chris isn’t being overly accepting to his mate – which is what they had expected.

“As expected,” another rouge beta, Seungmin, says as he watches Chris’ car pull into traffic and head in the direction of the pack house. “He’s predictable, he always has been.” Seungmin had followed Minho out of the pack that day because while believed in Chris as an Alpha, he knew that the wolf’s stubbornness and refusal to change was going to be his downfall – and the pack’s.

The wolf that was smoking, a beta from another pack and one Chris had personal issues with for many different reasons, walks out from the shadows to stand beside Minho. He hums in thought, looking at the bakery while scratching his chin. A scar runs from his upper lip down the side of his face, his calloused hand running over it as he scratches. “Has he responded to the challenge?”

Minho snorts, “only to tell me to go and fuck myself.”

“He’s fucking insufferable,” the wolf growls, rolling his dark eyes. “When are the packs meeting again about the hunters? Tomorrow, right?” Minho nods, “Go to it and tell Chris he has until the next full moon. He either takes his mate or he takes the challenge.”

Seungmin counts the days in his head, tilting it as he looks at the older wolves, “why are we giving him a month to decide?” One look from Minho silences him but it doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He doesn’t understand why they are dragging this out when they could walk up to the pack house’s front door and challenge him now.

“All in good time,” the eldest speaks, giving a cruel smile and showing his fangs as he looks at you as you come out to check on the front of the store. “Everything will be revealed soon.”

You want to say that after a few weeks without seeing Chris your disdain and dislike for him has started to simmer down and that you have started to forget about the arrogant son-of-a-bitch but no. How can it settle when you have to see Felix and be reminded about the way Chris embarrassed you and then continued to poke fun at such an easy mistake? It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a little teasing, a little prod, and a giggle when he had realised your mistake but instead, for an entire month, he allowed you to believe the sweet, freckled ray of sunshine was someone else and from the way that Felix looked uncomfortable that day, made him go along with it too.

That made it so much worse.

“Ah,” you rub your hand over your face in frustration as you sit down on your bed. You need to stop thinking about him, you want to stop but it seems that he’s gotten under your skin so bad that you’ve begun to obsess about him.

You look at the time and notice that you have about an hour before it’s time to think about dinner so you decide that you’ll go for a walk to clear your head. It’s been something that you’ve picked up since moving to this town because with all your friends living in the city and your life there being only accessible during the weekends, you have nothing better to do.

Well, you could read your books but that’s not fun when all you’re thinking about is him.

The town is pretty enough, the beach not that far from where you live, which means on nice evenings, you take your walk down there to enjoy the pretty golden sunsets before heading back home. It’s been getting better and even prettier to see as the days warm up and the spring slowly moves towards the summer.

So, with a gentle push up, you start to change into the cute lilac purple activewear that you’ve been wearing lately as it gives you enough mobility to run when you want to but also isn’t super heavy where you’re sweating too much. “Where are you going?” Serena asks, poking her head into your room when she hears all the movements. “Are you heading down to the beach?” You hum, stretching a little before heading towards her, “What time will you be back?”

Raising an eyebrow, you look at her suspiciously, “Why?” You ask, narrowing your eyes. You have an inkling that Serena has been going on dates and not telling you about it because she’s been a little bit secretive lately but you haven't asked. You may be close but you do like to keep certain things to yourselves and Serena’s dating life is one of the topics that are usually locked up in a vault.

“No reason,” she shrugs before making her way towards the kitchen where she already has dinner cooking, “I can leave yours in the oven if you’re not back in time.”

Simply humming in response, you give her a kiss on the cheek, “thank you”, before going to put your running shoes on and heading out the door. It takes you until you reach the bottom of the stairs to realise you’ve forgotten your headphones. “Oh-” you rush back to your room with Serena yelling after you about your shoes. “I’m just grabbing my headphones!” You shout back before running out on your tiptoes to try and minimise the amount of shoe touching the clean floor. “I’ll clean the floor tomorrow!”

With your playlist designed to get you energised blasting your favourite songs through your eardrums, you walk with purpose down the road, dancing to the choreography that you know and lip-syncing like you’re giving the world a concert. You love it when it’s like this, where you couldn’t care less about who is around you, like the world is yours to own and you don't need to be overly aware of what’s around you.

You love it but it does tend to make you blind to what’s coming.

Nothing could touch you when you’re walking like you have all the confidence in the world and it’s amusing to watch really, how there’s a little bounce in your steps, a word or two accidentally being sung with you realising too late and you go back to mouthing the lyrics with a passion. You do miss being in the studio, dancing your heart out, and performing on weekends but you haven't been able to find a space to facilitate that in town.

“Adorable.” Minho chuckles as he shoves his hands into his pockets and glances around before slipping off the path and making a shortcut through the trees so that he can get to the beach before you.

You’re unaware, oblivious to what dangers Chris has brought into your life and even if you were told, you wouldn’t really believe him anyway, especially not after everything. Maybe not ever unless you see it with your eyes.

Even then…

The beach starts to open up before you, the reeds and dunes making way for the large expanse of the clear blue sea and white sand. You take a deep breath and inhale the salty scent of the water that has become one of your favourite smells because it is so far removed from the smell of the city that you feel so revitalised and calm. Sure, you miss the city, the life and luxuries that you had there but there’s something about it here that feels so right and you love it. “Amazing,” you say to yourself before going to one of the large, sun-bleached tree trunks that have become popular seats for people who simply want to watch the rolling waves.

Taking your headphones out and placing them back into their case, you turn on the trunk and lie down with your eyes closed, listening to the sounds of pure peace around you. There are no families on the beach today, no sounds of children laughing or people shouting at their young ones to be careful while playing in the water – just the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls.

“Roman!” Your brows wrinkle when a man’s voice ruins your peace, “bad dog! Come back here!”

Your leg had been hanging over the side of the trunk and clearly, this man’s dog has decided that it needs to investigate who you are, sniffing the bare skin of your calf and causing you to sit up with a slight giggle. You're ticklish.

“Roman,” the name is said with a slight growl to his tone that has both the big, golden, shaggy dog and you looking at him, “get here!” He points at his side and the dog walks towards him with his tail in between his legs, making you pout softly.

Pushing off the seat, you smile kindly at the man who is looking sternly at his dog, “Hey, he’s okay. He’s just a curious boy trying to make a new friend.” You crouch down by the dog and hold out your hand, allowing him to come to you for a nice scratch behind the ears. “See,” your voice raises an octave, “you’re a good boy.”

When the owner gets close enough to pull the dog’s attention away from you, leashing Roman to keep him from running off again, you smile before something clicks in your brain. You’ve seen this man before, you’re certain of it, you can’t quite pinpoint it and it’s a little annoying but from the bells in your head and the smirk he wears – you know you’ve crossed paths before.

How come you can’t pinpoint it right away?

“He likes you,” the man says, catching your attention, pulling you out of your thoughts. “He’s not usually so friendly with new people.”

Chuckling softly, you smile sweetly, “You and me both, Roman.” Which is… not entirely true. You’re pretty friendly to everyone, that's the reason why your nickname is Sugar but you’ve always been a little hesitant to be fully open with people – especially after what happened.

Thanks to…

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” The man blatantly lies – not that you know that. “Do you come to the beach often?”

You’re a little cautious with sharing your comings and goings with a complete stranger so you just hum, giving him a tight smile, “now and again. It’s been nice lately so I couldn’t miss out on seeing it.” As you talk, a chill runs up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, usually a warning that you need to leave even if there aren't any obvious dangers.

There’s something about this guy that has you feeling slightly on edge and you can’t figure out why. You’re pretty intuitive and prides yourself on it most of the time, usually able to spot a problematic person from a mile away but lately, it’s been acting up so you don’t know if there’s really a reason – or if it’s just because you are alone and there’s nobody around.

As if Serena knows that you may need saving, your phone starts to ring and stops the conversation from going further. “Oh, I’m sorry. I have to take this.” The man backs away as you answer the phone, using the call as a good excuse to walk away while speaking, only looking back to smile and wave. “You have no idea how glad I am you are calling,” you say when you think that you’re out of earshot, glancing over your shoulder and moving quickly when you catch him still standing there and watching you leave. “No, no, I’m okay…” You’re not sure if you fully believe it since your blood is pumping through your veins and adrenaline is kicking in to move your feet faster back towards the safety of your home.

Serena stays on the phone the whole time until you walk in the door, “What is his name and what does he look like? I’m going to call the police.” You jump, caught off guard by her voice being louder than it was on the phone and also by how quick she is to involve the authorities.

“Oh my God, you don’t need to call the cops, Spice. He was harmless! It was just…” You sit down to get rid of your shoes, tossing them in front of you. “I don’t know. It was just weird.”

This causes the woman to go into a full rant about how men who are weird don’t just stare at people walking away from them, that’s what stalkers do and for all you know, he could have been following you for days until you were alone. Neither of you are aware of how right Serena is – or how close to it she’s actually getting with her accusations – because he has been studying your every move and now that Chris isn’t around to keep Minho away, he’s going to come back.

In a different way, he realised this when he watched you practically run away from him at the beach. Approaching you alone isn’t going to gain your trust like he wants, he wants you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him and the best way to do that is through the same method Chris used.

The bakery.

A game is about to be played, a game you aren't aware you’re going to be playing until it’s too late, and even if you somehow managed to figure it all out before their hand is shown, you’ll still be playing regardless.

You are the key piece.

You’re the piece that both sides need but only one can have.

You are either going to be Chris’ downfall or his salvation and since he’s taken himself out of the game, or thinks he has, you are now free for the opposition to claim.

To use.

Chris leans back in his seat, straightening out the newspaper in his hands as he sips his morning black coffee. A sigh passes through his lips when he hears someone running into his house, “The rogues are here.” One of the betas says as they enter the dining room, bringing in mud from the outside on their shoes since they had been in too much of a rush to take them off. “There’s… Alpha Chris, there’s more of them than last time.”

This isn’t news to Chris or any of the other Alphas. Lately, the rogues have been teaming up. Nothing that could be considered a pack, or even compared to one, but definitely more than what they usually do. Minho and Seungmin have been collecting strays and bringing them around more and more, every time challenging Chris and posing empty threats.

Little does he know, soon, they won’t be so empty.

“Alpha?”

Chris hums, still looking at the newspaper and reading about an accident last night, “What?”

“Did you not hear what I said?”

Clicking his tongue, the wolf closes the newspaper and looks over at his beta, lips in a hard line. The younger wolf clearly recognises his expression as that of annoyance and from the bags under his eyes, exhaustion, since the rogues have been coming and going constantly. “I did.” He pushes away from the table and stands up, stretching with a groan and a couple of cracks since the morning is still too early for his body to want to be awake. “I’ve heard this far too often because it seems that these rogues don’t know when they’ve overstayed their welcome.”

He’s tolerated them for a while now, mostly due to him still missing two of his betas, but they are progressively getting more and more on his nerves. Especially when they’ve been trying to rally support from the other packs to try and use it as some kind of legitimacy to their challenge.

While there are some of the other Alphas who agree that Chris needs to take on a mate or accept the challenge, they all agree that it is ultimately up to Chris on the direction that he and his pack are going to take. “Though, if the next meeting comes around and you haven’t figured it out, we will make the choice for you.” Chris scoffs as he remembers one of the elder Alpha’s words. So much for agreeing it was his choice. Usually, they don’t like getting involved in how other packs are run but they will take action if they have to especially if there is cause for concern – apparently, rogues working together is enough of a reason for them to start getting nervous and poke their noses into Chris’ business.

As the Alpha walks outside, Minho at the head of the group of rogues who are all standing behind him, Chris notices something that does not match the scene. “I brought you something,” Minho smirks as he holds out the box of cupcakes that Chris knows far too well, the sweet smell causing his nose to twitch in response as if he’s trying to pick out your scent amongst the strong scent of strawberry icing.

Fuck, he’s missed that smell.

There’s a deep growl emitting from Chris’ chest, so deep, so guttural that everyone except Minho stumbles back a step as he stalks forward – though, he can tell by the shift in Minho’s scent that the younger is still smart enough to be intimidated by the Alpha.

However, clearly not smart enough to not taunt him.

“Why do you have those?” Chris growls, careful not to knock Serena’s hard work out of his hands and waste them.

Minho shrugs, opening the box and taking a cupcake out, taking his time to eat it in front of him. Chris could rip his throat out right then and there and he knows that, but with the audience that they now have, the older wouldn’t let his anger get in the way of his pride. “She’s cute, you know.” Minho says thoughtfully as he chews, “She thinks you’re a right fucking asshole and well, it makes her smart too, I guess.”

Chris grits his teeth, his eyes flashing gold as he holds onto his anger tightly but not enough that it doesn’t show through in minute ways. “What. Have. You. Done?” He enunciates the words through a tightly clenched jaw while Minho leisurely eats another cupcake.

From what Chris recalls, nothing has been going on in the little bakery, everything has been going just fine and there hasn’t been any unusual visitors coming and going but it seems that Minho has been able to be around you without Chris’ surveillance picking up on it. Yes, he is fully aware that he refused to go back to the bakery again but he didn’t ever say anything about making sure that you were left alone regardless of you knowing or not – you’re still his mate. He may not want to claim you but he won’t reject you either because… he simply doesn’t want to.

He refuses to explain further to anyone even himself, while it may not even work due to you being a human, he refuses to reject you because there’s a small, teeny tiny part of him that wants to be able to accept you. He wants you, every fibre in his body screams for you when he sees you from afar, his wolf growls darkly in the back of his head when he hears your name on someone else’s lips, and when he catches a whiff of your scent in any store he happens to walk into – fuck, he nearly goes out to search for you.

The longer he keeps himself away, the harder it is to resist you and that’s why he cannot be around you, as twisted as his logic seems to be.

The moment his hands are on you – you’re not leaving him ever again and that’s the excuse he’ll use as to why he cannot be near you. He cannot lock you into a life that he knows will only destroy everything that you have because what nobody seems to understand is that Chris won’t simply protect his mate – he will bring the world to its knees for you. This life isn’t as magical as books might make it seem, it’s surrounded by darkness and the last thing Chris would ever do is taint the light that he can feel residing within you with everything that goes bump in the night. He’d destroy it and himself to keep you safe.

Chris has known this ever since his first girlfriend, ever since he first fell in love, he would destroy anyone who dared to hurt her. His father had to tear a teenage Chris off a packmate when they had the audacity to scare his girlfriend at the time and thus began Chris needing to learn how to control himself better. He had to learn how to manage his anger, how to deal with his wolf’s more aggressive nature because training to be an Alpha is a hard journey and if he couldn’t contain his most primal behaviours as a teenager – he’d steer the pack into a dangerous future when he took over.

So, he did his best. While he’s not perfect, not by a long shot, he has a bad temper most of the time and he will absolutely throw the first punch – Chris tries his best to keep himself in check so he wouldn’t take the pack down the road that his parents feared he would.

Is it hard? Hell yes, but Chris is determined.

When Minho lost his mate, the reaction that he had, both confirmed and solidified the reason why Chris couldn’t accept his mate when he found them. If he would cave in the skull of a packmate for simply scaring his girlfriend when he was 16, what would he do to those who killed his mate? What lengths would he go to to avenge his fallen lover?

Would he be able to stop even after the war had been won?

No. He knows he wouldn’t be stopped unless he was killed and considering he’s a fucking good Alpha – he refuses to leave the pack without one… even if it means holding off giving the pack an heir.

“Minho.” Chris growls, getting in the other’s face when he doesn’t answer, “the fuck did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” the younger smiles, not averting his eyes from Chris’ as if he is challenging the Alpha. He’s not. Yet, at least. “You’ve left her unattended except for when your second goes and picks up the order you always keep. I was curious to know why you were so attached to that bakery and then I discovered a sweet little lamb called Sugar~.” He gives a wolfish grin, tilting his head. “It wasn’t exactly hard to figure everything out after that.”

Minho has known for a while but Chris doesn’t need to know that otherwise, it would throw off their entire plan. Sure, part of the plan isn’t to turn the entire pack against their Alpha but with the way that the pack is, he isn’t surprised that some of the wolves that have gathered around are intrigued by what he’s saying.

“Does she know?” Minho asks, a twinkle in his eyes showing that he’s loving this, the struggle of Chris keeping himself together. “Does she know what you are and what she is to you?” He can feel the rage rolling off Chris in waves, so strong that some of the wolves around him are responding, either by moving away from their Alpha or growling at those who are the cause of the problem. Looking around at the confused and curious wolves, Minho moves closer to Chris, closing any distance that they had between them, and bares his teeth. “Do they know that you’ve been hiding her?”

There’s silence, the sound of Chris’ heavy breathing is all that can really be heard as he tries his best not to tear his former friend’s throat out.

“When?” Chris grits the word out through tightly clenched teeth. “When the fuck do you want to do this?”

Pretending to think about it, Minho strokes his chin, humming for a moment before simply saying, “Next full moon. One month.”

Nodding once, Chris accepts. “You’ll stay away from her.”

Minho indicates for the other rogues to leave using a simple head gesture that causes them all to push past the pack that has surrounded them. They are greatly outnumbered but they weren’t here for a fight so it doesn’t really bother them if the others were trying to intimidate them by boxing them in, none of them have the same fire that Chris has. “No guarantees.” Minho says confidently, turning his back on Chris to leave with the others.

Chris watches, shoulder rising and falling with his shallow inhales, staring daggers into the back of Minho’s head until his view is blocked by Felix. He knows that everyone is going to want answers, answers that he’s not ready to give, not right now.

Was this part of Minho’s plan? What the fuck is his plan considering the other must know that he would not be able to win in a fight against Chris? No matter how strong Minho is, Chris has always been stronger and on a full moon – even greater so.

“Chris,” Felix pulls his attention away from the retreating rogues and back to his pack who are all waiting for answers.

“No.”

Felix grabs his arm to keep him from leaving and the younger nearly gets his hand broken for such an insolent action. “You can’t just leave after what just happened.” The others all mumble in agreement and Chris can feel a headache forming, “I had my suspicions but… you said she meant nothing.”

“You found your mate and didn’t tell us?” One of the other betas, Jaehyun, steps forward, looking pissed. “Seriously, Chris?” One warning growl from the Alpha has everyone stopping what they are saying or about to say but it doesn’t stop them from looking to him for an explanation, wanting to know he’s refused to take his mate when he’s found you.

“I did it for a good reason.” He says definitively, pushing past everyone even though he can still hear them muttering their disapproval of his actions and their disappointment in their Alpha.

Was this the whole reason Minho came here? There’s something sinister about what they have planned because Minho is one of the only people who knows why Chris won’t take a mate and yet, he’s pushing it. He’s even willing to turn the Alpha’s pack against him to force Chris into doing what he wants. Is that why he challenged Chris? Thinking that the older wouldn’t take the challenge in fear of losing everything?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs as he walks back into the house and heads straight to his room to lie down and rest. There are far more questions than answers and with all the noise that’s going on and the minds he now needs to ease and explanations he has to give, Chris needs to rest before his head fucking explodes from all the tension that’s building.

He’s going to kill him, he thinks as his head hits the pillow, what for? Chris doesn’t know which reason he’ll use but he knows that if Minho continues down this dangerous path, one filled with mystery and games, Chris will have no choice but to kill him.

Even if he doesn’t want to.

He refuses to let a rogue best him, no matter whom it is and what they had meant to him once upon a time.

You hear the doorbell chime and look up with your signature smile, laughing softly at the man who is walking into the store holding an iced coffee, smothered with whipped cream, just how you like it. “You are a quick study,” you basically skip out from behind the counter to meet him. “I’ve been dying all morning since I haven’t been able to have my sweet, sweet caffeine.”

Minho laughs, shaking his head at the way you nearly down the entire cup while you walk back to the other side, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. “You know, with the amount of coffee you drink a day, I’m surprised you aren’t breaking the sound barrier when you walk.” His teasing tone has you laughing loudly with him and pushing his arm before you sip it slower. “How has today been?”

You get to chatting about the day and how slow it’s been, only leaving his side whenever someone comes in to buy some food but he doesn’t mind, you’ve learned that he seems to enjoy the way you’ll smile at customers and get them to buy a little treat for themselves even if it is at a discounted price so that they can avoid having any wastage at the end of the day.

Minho, while strange at first with his habit of coming to the beach at the same time you did, has quickly become one of, if not your only, friends in this small town. He’s shown you some of the best places to get coffee and delivers it to you on days when you seem too tired to function, he’ll drag you out of the house and take you to quiz nights which you’ve learnt he sucks at but still goes every time, and he never makes you feel like utter shit whenever he teases you. There’s always a lightheartedness to his teasing, nothing that degrades your intelligence or pokes fun at you for not having picked up on something, he teases you about how sometimes you wear odd socks or that you drink the milkiest, sweetest coffees to stay alive.

In a few short weeks, Minho went from being a stranger on the beach to being a good friend who you actually enjoyed being around. You don’t know anything about his intentions, he’s never given you a reason to question his motives for befriending you, and there’s no suspicion about him hiding something from you. All you know is that he’s funny, he listens and he takes the time to bring you coffee and talk about the day.

“You want to come to a party this weekend?” Minho asks after you serve a customer, still smiling as you look over at him, “A friend of mine is having a house party and I thought you might want to go. You said you’ve never been to one before, right?”

This is true, sort of. There was a difference between what you’d seen being thrown at houses in places with the space and getting drunk at a friend’s place before going to the clubs. “When?” You purse your lips, pretending to think about it even though you both know that you’ll say yes because you’ve never been one to turn down an invitation to a party.

“Saturday.”

“Will it be big?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Minho tries to figure out whether he should share exactly who the person hosting the party is but then again, if you know then you might decline. “Yeah, it’s a massive house just out of town, no noise control and you know small towns – everyone shows up eventually.”

You grin, excited, you’ve seen those types of parties in the movies, the rich kids that throw lake parties when their parents are out of town and you can’t help but vibrate with excitement at the thought of doing something like that. Oh, it’s definitely going to be different from what you’ve done before. The reason why they never really did that in the city, choosing to pre-game at home and then going to the clubs is because eventually, noise control turns up and ruins all of the fun. “I’m in!” You bounce on your feet before looking over at the kitchen, “Is it okay if I ask Serena if she wants to come?”

He’s not going to tell her no, Minho knows better than to try and get in between the bond that the sisters have but he knows that the best way for this plan to work is to have you alone rather than under the protective older sister’s watch. She reigns you in, he’s realised, she makes sure that you are being responsible when you want to let loose, he can see it, hiding beneath the surface and all you need is one night – this night in particular – to be free.

It all rests on you letting loose and throwing caution to the wind.

Walking into the kitchen, you see Serena kneading dough with her sleeves rolled up, apron covered in flour, and stand beside her with a childish grin that can only ever be used on a parent or sibling. “Yes?” Serena asks, not even looking at her sister and you lean a little closer, moving into her personal space, “What do you want?”

“Party on Saturday?” You wiggles your eyebrows and leans away when Serena turns to look at you, “Minho said it’s at his friend’s place and that it’s going to be big!”

“If Minho is spending so much time here gossiping, maybe he should grab an apron and help.” She says shortly before huffing out a breath and taking a moment to think about it. She’s looking at you in a way that almost feels like she’s scrutinising you but doesn’t say anything about her younger sister’s new best friend. It’s obvious that she’s worried, of course, she’s happy that you have friends but she’s been suspicious of Minho ever since he started coming around. Maybe she wants to look out for you so you don’t get into a relationship with someone who seems like he’d rather play the field but there’s never been anything romantic with Minho – not that you’ve noticed. “I have plans,” she says finally, your brow furrowing because this is news to you.

“Plans?” You begin to question but Minho’s voice calling from the front has you remembering that you have a job to do. “This is not over~.” You say with a wink before rushing towards the door, greeting the customer walking in.

“So,” Minho leans close, your eyes quickly shifting to his side profile before looking at the customer walking around, “what did she say?”

“She has plans,” you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, a little disgruntled about the fact that your sister hasn’t been as forthcoming with her private life as you have been. “It’ll be just me.” You push away the attitude that’s brewing, choosing to focus on the party and getting excited about it instead.

Knocking on the counter twice with a grin on his face, Minho moves away, “Great, I’ll pick you up out front around 9ish, okay? Don’t overdress, city girl!” You laugh loudly, shaking your head at him before he waves and heads out, “See you then, Sugar~.” You wave back, telling him goodbye before turning to the customer approaching the counter, and giving them a warm smile. It’s easier to smile when you have something to be excited about.

The music from the party is so loud, it can be heard down the road even without werewolf hearing and it only grows louder and more intense the closer he gets to the house, making Chris want to turn around and head back home. He couldn’t though, he had heard that the rogues had decided to rent out this house which meant they had been staying on his territory without his permission. The Alpha isn’t going to cause a scene, he knows better than to do that of course but he isn’t going to let them throw a massive party and expect him to not turn up and make sure shit doesn’t go down.

Little does he know, Minho and the others actually expected him to turn up. The need for control is something that makes Chris predictable and with the challenge coming up and him still not taking you as his mate, they decided to lay a trap that the Alpha wouldn’t be able to run away from.

What’s a better way to mess with an Alpha than to dangle his mate like bait?

“Oh, look who arrived,” Seungmin walks over to Chris when he walks through the front door, immediately noticing several members of his pack are here as well as other wolves from surrounding packs. “I don’t think you were formally invited, Chris, but yet, here you are.”

Glaring at the young wolf, he wonders if he should have come at all. “This is happening on my territory, Seungmin. You and Minho should both have known I would turn up regardless.” Chris’ name is called from somewhere amongst the crowd and it doesn’t take him long to find the wolf trying to get his attention. One of his betas has noticed the presence of their Alpha and is waving at him, Chris smiles politely and gives a short wave back before turning back to look at Seungmin. “What do you think you guys are doing?”

“Well, we couldn’t exactly just leave with the full moon coming up and the challenge so we thought it might be easier to stay close, stay nearby so that if you happened to change your mind, you’d be able to find us.” Chris scoffs, finding their reasoning to be a bunch of bullshit but he couldn’t care to argue or fight with the amount of people slowly filling up the rooms. Clearly, they’ve managed to get the word around pretty quickly to have this many people turn up already. “If you do decide to stay, have a drink. Loosen up. You want to blend in and keep an eye on everyone then stop looking like the disapproving father and look like every guy your age.” Shoving a beer into his hand, Seungmin walks off, not waiting to listen to the Alpha’s retort.

Chris’ jaw tenses, grinding his teeth as he sniffs the beer and places it down before heading over to the kitchen and helping himself to the fridge. It will be harder to get any form of information if he’s looking extremely pissed off in a room filled with humans and wolves having fun and mingling but he’s unimpressed by their antics so it’ll take a while for him to settle. He chooses to do that in a corner that is far enough away from everyone so they won’t be able to bother him and he can observe before trying to blend in.

He’s the only Alpha and while the humans won’t know who he is, the wolves will so he needs to make everyone less on edge to get what he wants.

He sits there, a few beers into his night and he notices that the place has filled up more than it was an hour or so ago. Did the town really have this many people or have they been bringing people from surrounding towns to come and party with them? Shaking his head, Chris finishes his beer and decides that he needs something stronger to get him into a more social mood; he makes his way over to the kitchen only to be intercepted by Minho.

Where the hell did he come from?

“Where have you been hiding?” Minho laughs, the glazed over look in his eyes and the stench of alcohol on his breath shows he’s had a few drinks so maybe he’s been here for a while. “You’ve been drinking the weak shit if you aren’t out on the dance floor already.”

Raising an eyebrow, Chris is curious at how the other wolf is drunk considering alcohol takes a longer time to have an effect on their bodies. “You’re drunk?”

“Tipsy,” Minho corrects with a grin before slapping a hand onto Chris’ shoulder, causing the older to look at the limb and wonder if he’s planning something. “Oh, come off it man, you are so suspicious. Let loose. This is your fucking problem.” He leads them towards the kitchen and goes for one of the bottles that are sitting on the table, pouring another drink for himself and taking a swig before pouring Chris a drink. “You are so uptight.” Minho continues to drink before Chris slowly brings the plastic cup to his lips and tastes the sweet alcohol, nose wrinkling but he continues to down the whole cup. As if seeing the sight is something that is worthy of a cheer, Minho claps and snatches the empty cup from Chris before shoving his own into the elder's hand. “Help yourself next time~ there’s plenty to go around and for fuck sake, enjoy the party, man.” As Chris sips on the new drink, Minho decides that he’s bored and it’s time to go and mingle, walking out of the room with a wave of his hand and some parting words, “Enjoy your surprise.”

Chris’ brow furrows as he tries to figure out what Minho means by that, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as if he’s in danger but his thoughts are interrupted by the hooting and cheering coming from the other room. Finishing his drink and crushing the cup in his hand, Chris discards the crumpled plastic in the nearest bin as he goes to investigate the commotion. What has everyone whistling so loud that anyone can hear it over the bass blasting through the speakers?

He stops dead in his tracks as he enters the room, everything in his body suddenly on high alert as soon as he finds the reason. Standing at the other end of the room with the DJ’s hands on her waist, pouring vodka into his mouth, is the last person that Chris thought he would have to see again.

A person he told himself he didn’t want to see again. A person that he needed to see again – though, not like this.

Everything moves in slow motion. The hands in the air, fists pumping, waving, the sounds of the cheers as you kiss the DJ afterward, the way the DJ’s hands move to your ass and grabs so greedily. Everything moves in slow motion but Chris’ heart races in his chest at the show of his mate letting another fucking man shove his tongue down your throat.

His nostrils flare, his fists tighten and the muscle in his jaw clenches as you pull away, laughing and shouting with the crowd.

The music gets louder, pumping with the alcohol running through everyone’s veins and the Alpha parts the bodies that separate him from his mate. He only sees you, jumping and dancing with someone else now, he doesn’t notice the eyes that are on him as they nudge each other and watch the wolf stalk toward you.

Chris is blind to the dangers around him because all he can think about now is removing the scent of the DJ from your body.

You don’t even notice Chris making his way towards you, you’re having way too much fun and feeling so good. Minho had promised a good night where you could let loose, where you could do all the things that you wanted to do without needing to be good and behave with your sister around. A night where it’s all about feeling alive! You know that there’s no way that Serena would have let you do that with the DJ in front of the room – Minho did though, in fact, he encouraged it.

You close your eyes, swaying with the bass as you stand in front of the speakers and wow, you feel like you’re flying. The vibrations from the bass has your heart racing on a different level and with the amount of alcohol you’ve had tonight, you feel like you could take on the world and win. Confidence and no care was a dangerous mix when living life in a way that you’ve never really been able to before.

Nothing can ruin your night.

Nothing can ruin your vibe.

Nothing in this world can ruin your fun.

Well, maybe except for him.

You feel the warmth against your back, electricity rushing through you as you lean into the solid body behind you. There’s a familiar feeling in the way this feels, a sense of deja vu but you don’t think about it, why would you? You don’t want to think about anything except the way the song’s making you feel. You lift your hands up and as if the man behind you know what you’re wanting, he allows you to wrap them around his neck, guiding him to the curve of your neck while his hands slowly creep around your waist.

There’s a possessiveness in the way he holds you, in the way that he tries to encompass your body and it sends a sweet shiver up your spine as he moves with you to the music. You don’t quite know it but he radiates it and anyone who dares to look at you with the slightest bit of interest suddenly looks away due to the look in his eyes before burying his nose into your neck.

Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck and smiles at the response that he gives against your skin. The softest lips place wet kisses along your pulse, reminding you of a dream you had once. The mystery man from the club that has been plaguing your dreams is slowly being replaced by this stranger who isn’t as gentle in his touch but creates the same heat in your core as his teeth graze that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Are you having fun?” A deep voice growls into your ear as he nips on your earlobe and while your insides melt, your brow furrows for a moment because you’re sure that you know that voice. A voice you’ve thought about more than you like to admit but haven’t heard in a while.

No, it can’t be him.

A soft hum vibrates at the back of your throat, nodding your head as you turn her cheek in the direction of his lips, body pressing against him so that your swaying is rubbing against his crotch. “I’m having a lot of fun.” You smile, trying to turn in his hold so that you can feel more than his teeth nipping your jawline but he keeps you from doing so, from seeing him, and your soft red lips pull into a small pout.

“Tell me, do you like to kiss every man you see?” He dips his head back into your neck, inhaling deeply.

You giggle and shake your head, causing him to lift his own slightly. “No, only the hot ones~,” you say playfully.

With a hand slowly ghosting over your body, grabbing your chin so gently but securely in between his thumb and index fingers, he speaks lowly into your ear. “Close your eyes.” It’s almost like he’s testing you, seeing if you’ll kiss him without knowing what he looks like or maybe it’s because Chris knows that the moment you know it’s him – you wouldn’t dare.

“Hm, that’s not fair,” your lips twitch at the corners, deciding to play along with his game. “How about you tell me your name first?”

Tilting your chin towards him, just enough that you can see the lower half of his face, you see the way those plump lips smirk before he speaks. “You know my name, sugar.” And with those five words, you’re hit with a wave of emotions that all conflict with each other.

Part of you is happy, excited almost, to see Chris again, fuck, you didn’t think that you would ever feel that way about him considering everything but you do. Another part of you is pissed off that he toyed with you like this as if he hasn’t been the biggest asshole, or a close second, that you’ve ever met. You don’t want to move away from him, enjoying the way that your body seems to fit with his, loving the way that his hands are holding you like you belong to him. Yet, you want to push him away, remove the feeling of him with force if you have to.

You both want to slap him for taking you for a fool and kiss him because you want to know if his lips are as soft as they felt against your neck.

“Fuck you,” you push him away, storming off through the crowd but Chris isn’t too far behind you, not wanting to give you up even though he had fought against his bond with you for weeks, if not, months.

Chris manages to catch you in the kitchen, grabbing your wrists when you reach for another drink, and without even thinking, you slap him. It’s loud, louder than the music that has followed you into the next but if anyone heard it, they didn’t give any indication that they had. You both stare at each other for a moment, both lust and anger coursing through your bodies as your eyes lock, his chest rising and falling in rapid success as he stares down at you, the redness on his cheek standing out against his fair complexion.

“I–” You’re about to apologise, you don’t know why you were going to but it just feels appropriate to say sorry for causing a handprint on his face. You never managed to finish the sentence though because Chris pulls you closer and helps break the tension between them. Kissing you roughly in a way that has you losing your breath. Your hands lift to rest against his chest and Chris pulls away, thinking he messed up but you simply fist his shirt in your hands and pull him closer, making him kiss you again while backing you towards the bench.

You shouldn’t be doing this, not here, not where anyone could walk in and see you having a heated make-out session with a man you swore as your enemy but the moment his lips met yours – you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anyone seeing you or anyone having a problem with it because this is exactly the type of letting loose you feel like you need.

His tongue slips inside your mouth, coaxing yours to dance with his and his hands move down to your ass, squeezing and pulling you so close that you could almost become one person. You feel his muscles over his Nirvana shirt as your hands move down his chest and over his abdomen, firm and hard, something that you had guessed once by looking at him but feeling it? A rush runs through your body that seems to set fire to your core.

Your fingers are close to touching his skin, at feeling him but his hands are so fast at catching your wrists and moving them away with that stupid smirk against your lips. “Uh uh, sugar, not so fast.”

You groan, hating the sound of his voice and hating how he’s worked you up so easily, gotten you right where he wants you only to deny you of something that could make him seem at least enjoyable to hate. You bite down on his plump bottom lip, harshly but not enough to draw blood, and Chris growls deeply in his chest, the vibrations rumbling against your own. “You’re so mean, you know that?” You hiss at him when you let go, “You started this and now you’re stopping? Ugh, that’s so annoying.”

Wow, you really sound like a child who isn’t getting your way.

Chris seems to find your anger at him amusing and he pulls away to look at you, his dark eyes dancing with the lust that you’re bringing out of him. He lets go of your wrist, only one as he holds the other tightly, and lifts his free hand to your chin; his fingers hold you securely as his eyes never leave yours, reading the heat behind your burning gaze. Turning your head towards the party, Chris brings your attention to the area that they are in while his lips ghost along the shell of your ear.

“You want to give them another show?”

Using all the strength that you can muster in one hand, you push hard against his chest and Chris steps back as he chuckles, knowing that he’s rattled your cage. “Fuck you.” You say as you storm off towards the bathroom so that you can cool off – or get off.

You feel Chris behind you, not letting you get too far away from him, and while you want to round on him and give him another piece of your mind, another side of you has a completely different thought, one you’ve read far too many times in your books. You want him to follow you, to lock the bathroom door behind him, and cage you against the sink. You want him to fuel that fire, to mock you, tease you, and then kiss you until you both can’t breathe. You want him to run those stupid, large, veiny hands down your body and cause goosebumps to cover your skin. You want him to fuck you like you’ve been dreaming and fantasising about.

You don’t know where it comes from, this need for him, this passion that runs through your veins when it comes to Chris. His irritatingly sexy voice whispers in your ear as they enter the small bathroom together, reaching behind him to lock the door. His infuriatingly firm body presses against your body as his annoyingly handsome face is seen in the mirror.

Why? Why can’t you get him out of her head when he pisses you off so much? Why are you so attracted to him when he’s showing everything that you say you hate about a man?

They say that there’s a fine line between love and hate but this? This is something else entirely and you want to say that you don’t want him but as his hands rest on your body, tightly holding onto your waist, you push back against him. You grind her ass against his groin and feel the effect that you have on him. It’s like everything you’ve been thinking in your mind before is about to play out and you can’t help but think that this is a pretty typical encounter for enemies who can’t stand each other.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” He growls, teeth clenched as he pulls you closer while rolling his hips and making you feel his length. “You’re driving me insane.”

Everything he says he doesn’t need, everything he lies to himself about when it comes to a mate, it all went out the window the moment that your lips met. Chris had no idea what he was thinking but the moment that he saw you with another man’s lips against yours, something inside his mind snapped and all he could think about was making sure that he erased that man’s taste off your tongue. The slap added fuel to the burning fire building in his abdomen, a slight sucker for pain maybe, but it only pushed him towards you instead of making him step back.

He should have left you alone when you headed to the bathroom though but he didn’t. He should have stopped at the threshold and let you be but here he is.

Here you are.

And there goes his sanity.

Pushing against you, he can smell you, your arousal, and it is so fucking intoxicating. It goes straight to his head and fills his mind with many different ways that he could claim you. You are his after all, his mate, he should take you and make sure that everyone at this party knows who you belong to but Chris tries so hard to hold onto whatever broken sanity he has. He can’t force you into this life, not without knowing what it is, he needs to remember that… he needs to focus…

“What the fuck are you doing to me? You’re driving me insane.” Your eyes are locked in the mirror, Chris watching you react so prettily to his need pressing against your ass. The bathroom is too small, there’s not enough space to put distance between you even if he tried. Your scent is filling up the room quickly and all his blood is rushing to his cock, making his pants tight and uncomfortable.

He needs to get you away from him before he can’t hold back. The way your body is responding so readily to him, moving in time with his movements as you practically dry hump while staring into each other’s eyes – it is not helping. All it’s doing is telling him that you want him, that your body can take him, and now all Chris can really think about is how he could slip right between your folds and stretch you out nicely. Shit, that thought definitely isn’t helping.

“Sugar,” your hum sounds too much like a moan and Chris tenses his jaw as if he’s one movement away from breaking. “I need you to leave.” Your brow furrows, confused and he takes a few shallow breaths as if that’ll clear his head with you surrounding him. “If we don’t- fuck-” You push against him and his fingers flex, nearly holding you tight enough that you’ll bruise, “don’t fucking do that.” He growls and your body shivers at the sound.

“Why not?” He can see the smile playing on your biteable lips as you do it again and Chris groans deeply at the feeling. You’re loving the fact that he’s unable to get away from you on his own, that it’s really up to you. It’s the reason you won’t leave, knowing that you have the power to basically make or break him right now, that you are able to get under his skin, why would you back away and stop this?

You don't understand that he’s doing this for your sake as well as his own. You just know that you’re winning and that’s all you want.

You brush your hair to the side as you press your back against his chest, your scent fragrant and strong as Chris grits his teeth and closes his eyes. A happy place, he tries to convince himself, go to a happy place, and not give in to your temptation but it seems his wolf is taking your side and giving in. It’s a battle of the wills and Chris has very little self-control in this situation. It’s true that he hasn’t had sex in a while, suppressing every rut with whatever magical potion he can get his hands on and exerting the energy through training so being presented with a sweet treat like you makes it hard for him to resist.

What is he other than a simple wolf?

His nose runs down the length of your neck, inhaling deeply and tightening his fingers on your hips. If he slips, even just slightly, his nails will dig into her soft skin and break the skin so he needs to be… “Fuck.” Chris growls deeply as his teeth graze softly over a patch of your skin that makes you moan and the sound bounces off the walls, or at least that’s what it feels like. “You’re dangerous, sugar.”

Giggling, fucking giggling, you lean forward and grip the basin while pushing your ass right against his bulge, his cock throbbing and begging to be released. How the fuck is he going to get out of this? No, how is going to fuck you without– “I taste just as sweet as I sound.” Your words cause Chris to freeze for a moment as his brain registers what you just said and it seems that it is all the wolf needs to lose the battle since his fingers automatically move to push your dress over your perfect ass.

Now, he’s not someone who cares about a woman’s body. They are always beautiful no matter their size but your soft hips told him that you were built like a meal. Licking his lips, Chris looks down and runs his hands smoothly over your rump before giving it a spank. You yelp softly, eyes locked on his face but Chris is too busy watching the little jiggle he’s rewarded with and he does it again, just to revel in how your body reacts. “Is that so, sugar?” Fuck, your arousal is so much stronger and it causes his mouth to salivate like he’s so close to his dessert that he can taste it on his tongue already. “You offering a free taste test?”

“Only if you are man enough to try it.” Your words are meant to be a jab but Chris simply chuckles, his lips lifting in a smirk as he moves one hand up your back, dress lifting more, while the other runs teasingly along your clothed core.

You’re soaked, he knew you would be but feeling it is better than he can imagine. The teasing, the thrill of the fuck, hell, maybe even the fighting turns you on. “Do you always get this wet around me, hm?” Applying a little more pressure, Chris rubs back and forth and notices how you stand on your tiptoes to give him a better angle. “When we fought in the bakery, were you clenching your thighs to stop yourself from begging me to fuck you?” You gasp lightly as he rubs circles over your clit before continuing working you over your panties. “Does a little fighting count as foreplay for you? Maybe you’re not as sweet as you look, sugar, hm?”

He can hear you trying to retort, trying to reply and get back at him but your body betrays you by clenching around nothing and just feeling it, knowing it would feel so good around his cock makes his wolf howl in the back of his head.

“Spread a little for me, baby girl,” Chris gently slaps your thighs and you comply. “There’s a good girl.” He growls out before using both hands to rip your panties messily, the pieces still clinging to your hips while the crotch hangs pathetically. Well, they were ruined anyway.

Before you can say anything, before you can try to tell him off for ruining a seemingly pretty set of lingerie, Chris plunges two calloused fingers into your soaked pussy. His digits slide in easily with no resistance just like he imagined, just like he’s dreamed about, your walls accepting him as they flutter around his fingers and sounding so messy as he prepares you for what’s to come.

You are but that’s not the point.

“Such a pretty little whore, hm? Letting yourself get fucked in the bathroom at a house party,” Chris grins as his eyes meet yours in the mirror, your eyes hardening slightly before he moves his hand and curls his fingers, watching your reaction to him hitting that sweet spot. “Huh? What was that?”

Your head drops as you push back, trying to take him deeper, “fuck you.” You manage out in one breath before biting your lip harshly, as if you’re trying to stop him from hearing those sweet moans he knows you can make.

“Sorry, kitten, I didn’t hear you.” Chris brings his other hand into play, reaching around you and rubbing your clit while still fingering you from behind. The moans break through, knuckles turning white from how tightly you’re holding the basin and he knows it’s getting hard for you to keep yourself from falling completely. He can feel it, the way your body tenses and relaxes, the push and pull, the internal fight unlike what he was having – you want to mess with him but you also want to give in and feel so good. “You were saying?”

“You’re cruel!” You whine, clenching around him. He doesn’t know whether you’re referring to the fact that Chris hasn’t picked up the pace and has basically been keeping you on the brink or the fact that he’s enjoying turning the tables on you despite him barely holding back. “God, please! Just… please!”

Ah, the pace.

It won’t be that easy though. “Please, what, sugar?” Chris slows down ever-so-slightly. You shake your head, biting your lip and not wanting to give him what he wants, so he slows down a little more, fingers barely doing anything but keeping you on edge and making your body jolt. “You want something, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He rubs your clit a little and you moan softly before he stops again, “Otherwise, you won’t get to cum.”

You contemplate, wondering if this really is worth it but when he rubs your clit again, you fold almost instantly. God, it’s been so long since a guy has made you feel this good and you refuse to go home with your pussy throbbing for the thickness you could feel beneath his pants – not without having it stretch you out and fill you up first. A bitch in heat maybe, you’re starting to feel like one right now with the way your body is heating up and begging for more. “Please, let me cum.” You try not to make it sound like you’re begging but the whine you let out makes it impossible to play off otherwise.

A deep growl of approval is what you’re rewarded with as Chris picks up his pace and finds the perfect rhythm to send you over the edge. You feel it starting in your toes before making its way up your body and mixing with the heat in your core. It reminds you of when you’ve been playing with your vibrator and haven't cum in so long that your whole body responds so intensely. A visceral reaction to the stimulation. Your hand slaps down on the stone basin, stinging your palm while your body goes rigid for a moment as your walls clench and flutter around his fingers, still moving and not slowing down. A long moan escapes you but you can’t slap a hand over your mouth out of fear that you may collapse without both hands to support you.

“So fucking pretty,” Chris says as he slows down his movements and pulls his fingers away from your throbbing heat. “You feeling okay, hm?” He asks, eyes on yours as if he’s really concerned for you and he waits, a few heartbeats, for you to nod her head. “Good.” Your eyes widen when Chris brings his fingers to his lips, unashamedly keeping eye contact while sucking them clean before tilting his head back in pleasure. The way he moans at your taste goes straight to your empty cunt, sensitive but needing more. “You do taste so fucking sweet.”

His eyes almost shine as he looks back at you and there’s something slightly different about him. You can’t explain it, not really but it’s almost like he’s more gone than he has been showing or like another side has come out, whatever it could be, you can’t linger on it for too long because Chris is unbuckling his belt and releasing his cock. Not that you can see it, even if you were to look over her shoulder, you wouldn’t be able to see from the way that you’re leaning forward but it’s not long before you feel it.

Chris rubs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick and using it as a lubricant before grabbing your hips and pushing forward to sheath to the hilt. You whine at the intrusion, thicker than his fingers, but feeling so good that you don’t think about anything else. He moves slowly, allowing you to feel every inch stretch your velvet walls and all you can say at the feeling is, “holy shit.” He knows that you’re still feeling high from your previous orgasm, so you’re only given a short moment before Chris is pulling you up by your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your body.

Breath hot against your sensitive skin, his cock as deep as he can get it at this angle, Chris kisses your neck. One hand is on your hips, holding on for dear life while the other arm is wrapped around your chest, just under your breasts, as you’re crushed against his firm body. “You feel even better than I imagined.” Chris’ voice is deep before he starts to move.

There’s barely any thoughts that come through your brain after that, barely anything even registers other than the pleasure coursing through your body as Chris fucks you like he’s as desperate as you are. His head buried in your neck, his low grunts and groans sounding in your ear as you moan and call his name – as well as to whatever Gods may be unfortunately watching. You enjoy sex, it always makes you feel good and she can’t say that she’s never had mind-blowing sex before but this, this is something else entirely. It’s like you fit together perfectly, like he’s filling you completely, hitting all the right spots and making you whimper and whine as another orgasm starts to build.

“Hold it,” Chris commands, his lips pressed against your bare shoulder, eyes locked on your face as you barely manage to make eye contact. “Don’t you dare cum.”

Your hands reach for his, one clinging onto the hand that’s digging, bruising, your soft hips while the other digs into his forearm. This is your only lifeline right now, the only thing keeping you aware. Sure, maybe you didn’t have to inflict pain on Chris but considering his command has your body almost immediately responding – you have to do something. “Please–”

“Not. Yet.” He grunts, picking up the pace. Chris angles his hips to hit the spot that should make you see stars but it doesn’t push you over the edge, not yet, almost as if everything is waiting for him to give permission. He commands your body, he commands what it’s needing and feeling and you are nothing but the puppet following along. Your head falls back against his body, giving in completely and allowing him to build up your orgasm until his strokes begin to get messier and harsher.

It’s as if your body just knew what was about to happen or maybe it’s something else that triggers it but the moment Chris buries himself deep inside her, letting out a deep growl as he harshly bites into your shoulder – you cum around him. Your body feels light, weightless, as he holds you tightly in his arms, teeth breaking skin while your pussy milks his cock. It feels like minutes tick by before Chris pulls out, causing a slight mess between your thighs as cum leaks out of your still pulsing cunt.

In and out. Deep breaths. Nothing but the sound of you two breathing can be heard as you look in the mirror, eyes focusing on Chris only to see him staring at your shoulder. “You have some sharp teeth there, Chris.” You laugh breathily, reaching to touch the bite mark and wincing slightly at the tenderness. You like hickeys, you don’t mind being marked but it was kinky that he bit you like that.

This sets off a chain of events that has you standing there confused and understandably upset. Chris adjusts himself, tidying up his clothes and pulling as far away from you as he can. It’s almost like he didn’t know what had just happened and why he was touching inside you, a shift from how he couldn’t stay away earlier. You’re turning to face him, looking a little happier about being this close to him than you first were when you entered the room but Chris looks like being near you is the last place he wants to be. With a small, uncertain smile, you reach for him, “come on, it couldn’t have been that bad, hm?”

But, Chris pulls his hand away from yours. “This was a mistake…”

The words are said so quietly that you could say you misheard him, only for Chris to make a speedy exit afterwards, so fast that if he was a cartoon, there’d be a cloud in the shape of him. This sudden retreat has you standing there in shock, your lust filled brain getting a harsh reality splashed onto your face. You don't know what happened, why this happened, especially when it seemed like it was something that you both wanted. It wasn’t bad, in fact, while there are so many things you know could have been better – like not being in a bathroom – the way it felt so electric, like your whole body was in tune with his, it was definitely a great way to break your dry spell. None of that is what she’s fixated on though, you can forgive the way he left you to clean up by yourself, you can forgive the slight throbbing from where he bit your shoulder, but what you can’t forgive are those words that Chris dared to utter.

This was a mistake.

Tears well up in your eyes, and your hands shake as you lock the door so you don't get interrupted. As you clean up, those words echo over and over again. This was a mistake. You remember saying that when you broke up with your ex, you remember saying that your relationship was a mistake because you were two different people. You remember hearing Serena say that when she tried to double a recipe she really shouldn’t have and made a monstrous cake that nearly overflowed in the oven. You have heard those words plenty of times in your life but never, ever have you had them said to you like that.

This was a mistake. Damn right, it was. A mistake that will never happen again.

#kvanity #straykidsland #iridescentxstars ©#scenario ; bangchan #werewolf ; bangchan #au ; werewolf #g ; smut #g ; dark #g ; supernatural #g ; enemies to lovers #group ; skz #bangchan scenario #bangchan smut #bangchan fic #bangchan fanfic

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mayghosts · 2 months

Text

Little Gold Top: (7) Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: fluff and happiness

(Previous) (TOC)

Warnings: implied sexual content, alc, bad grammar.

AN: I feel bad for making you guys go through that much angst, please use this as my formal appology 🙏 trying to decide if we need one more final part or not? do we want another part, maybe like its set in the future?

Grinning like a maniac, you flopped backwards onto your couch. “What are you grinning about?” making her way over to you Gabbie tried to grab at the note in your hands. Clutching it to your chest you sprung off the couch, skating across the room “Nothing! None of your buisness!” Smirking at your actions, Gabbie returned back to her spot in the kitchen, “I'm onto you babe, I am going to figure out who your little lover is soon.”

Rolling your eyes you slid back into your room to read your card in peace. Kate had taken your challenge in stride, determined to ‘prove it’ to you. For the last week you had been receiving flowers, notes, little gifts, matcha lattes and even walks to class and drives to and from practice. You spent hours texting about meaningless topics, your family, old friends and basically every topic under the sun. About 90% of the converstaions she had initiated. Her dedication was truly impressive.

Tossing the card onto your bed you began to pull outfit ideas from your closet. Settling on a your favorite black mini skirt and a little gold top, you finished getting ready. The team was planning another outing to the local campus bar, you were excited to spend time with everyone. However, you were most excited to see Kate. You wouldn’t say you were ‘going out’ or ‘seeing’ eachother just yet, but you knew you were more than friends.

In the past thinking about Kates was accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of dread and misery. However, Kates has became an overwhelmingly gooey-happy thought. You just hoped this feeling would stick around.

Stepping into the dimly rit bar room, you were met with a sea of people and the strong smell of alchohol. The sticky floor offered an extra bit of resistance as you and Gabbie fought your way through the crowd, towards the group of girls sitting in one of the back tables.

“Eee!! You're here!! Come sit!!” By the sound of her voice, you could tell Caitlin had already had a few drinks as she pulled you and Gabbie the rest of the way to the booth. Standing in front of the table you were greeted with hugs and excited hellos from a slightly intoxicated Jada and Monica.

Climbing over the booth, you plopped into the empty spot next to Kate who was trying to act normal. As conversations picked up again and shots were passed around, you found yourself falling into conversation with the blonde.

“You’re wearing the shirt I like.” she grinned at you, toying with the bottom of your shirt. “Yea? I like this shirt too... It reminds me of that night in the parking lot.” she glanced up at you, letting her hands drift up to your straps. She toyed with them in her hands. To anyone else it might look like she was just untiwsting them. However, you knew she just wanted an excuse to touch your shirt you. “Why would you want to think about that night? Kinda traumatic, no?” you giggled at her words, watching as the purple and blue lights reflected in her eyes. “Well we wouldn't be here if we hadn't been there.”

You were silent for a minute, before you were interrupted by Caitlin passing shots around the table again. As you bit into your lime, you felt Kate squeeze your hand under the table. Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks you turned to talk to Monica about the upcoming season. Kate didn’t let go all night, and you didn’t think you could let her hand go if you tried.

In the back of the Uber, you sat squished against Kate, sharing the middle seat with Caitlin. As Cait and Gabbie drunkenly sang Taylor swift the whole ride home, Kate slumped her head ontop of your thighs as she gently whispered “I'm glad I was an idiot that night.” You paused for a moment, turning her words over in your head before leaning over her “me too.”

The sun shone through the cracks in your blinds as you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your alarm clock read 5:02, far too early to wake up on a weekend. However when you went to roll over, you were pleasantly surprised by a sleeping, fully clothed, Kate Martin in your sheets. (that's a first)

When you opened your eyes again a few hours later, you half expected her to still be there. So, when you found that she hadn’t escaped your apartment before you woke up, it hit you hard.

She had proved it. Proping yourself up on your elbows, you gently tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, resting your forehead against hers. You smiled as her eyes flickered open. As she wrapped her arms around your waist she gently pulled you ontop of her.

“I believe you.”

“I know you do.”

As she reached her hands up to grab at your hips, you met her halfway, entertwining your fingers.

“Do you believe yourself?”

“More than anything.”

She even tastes like strawberry chapstick in the morning.

Taglist: @ayannatv @stydiaownsmyheart @smiths-fan--13

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

Text

Last Night in Magic Shop | pjm

You find yourself down at the local club, Magic Shop, because your best friend feels like your lovelife is dry as ice. You did not plan on meeting a handsome stranger, who moves his body like an angel, but speaks like the devil. Feeling like he might match your nasty needs, you take him home, enjoying an unforgettable night filled with pleasure.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”) → Genre + AUs: strangers to lovers, one night stand, vampire!au, smut (pwp), and a little sprinkle of angst and fluff (it’s very short and minor) → Word Count: 12.5k → Rating: mature / +18 → Warnings: explicit smut, exhibitionism + semi public sex (they are in a car and kinda get caught and they stop), kissing, grinding, thighs (yes it’s a warning), a harness (as fashion, yes, also a warning), choking, dirty talk, power play (it’s very dynamic but they are both trying to be more dominant, lol), dom/sub undertones, pleasing kink, oral (female and male receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, biting, mentions of blood (it’s brief at the end), rough sex, but also very intimate, breast and nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, spitting— in general this one is very dirty, flirty and rough! → Author’s note: hi!!!! This is my gift to all you lovely people that follow me, and also to everyone else too! 💜 I really want to thank you, for following me, for reading my stories, for following my recs and library and helping me to show love to all the other authors on this platform that way 🫶 Thank you, truly. This is my gift to you— for my 1k follower milestone 🥳 It actually happened some time ago, I was still writing my long series at the time, so I didn’t really have time to celebrate it, but I really wanted to, so here I am bearing a gift! It’s another filthy one, and I have so much fun writing these, because this isn’t what I normally write (I’m more the fluffy and smutty, a lot of detail and words type of gal). I appreciate you all so much, and to those few people who really interact with me by commenting, messaging me, and just being there— thank you, you are incredible and I love you so much 🥹 Thank you, I hope you enjoy this one 💜 → Author’s note(2): this is pure utter filth yet again. I didn’t proofread this (I might do it later and find my stupid mistakes), but right now, I’m not in the mood. I hope it isn’t horrible, I’m feeling like that myself, but I really tried to make it extra filthy (more so than what I usually write). I do still hope that you enjoy and like it 🌸

Do you prefer to read on AO3? Well, it's posted there too!

Despite your usual aversion to clubbing—the cacophony of deafening music, the stifling heat enveloping you, your skimpy outfit clinging to your skin like a second layer—somehow, you find yourself succumbing to the relentless persuasion of your best friend, Hana, who insists on dragging you down to the pulsating heart of the local club scene, Magic Shop. Why you’re willingly diving into this chaotic abyss, well, that’s a fucking mystery even to you.

As Hana navigates the bustling bar to order drinks, you scan the crowded expanse for a spot to settle, but every booth seems occupied in this sea of bodies pulsating to the throb of the music. Amidst the frenzy, your gaze drifts inevitably to the dance floor, where a blonde haired man commands attention with his effortless grace, his movements a symphony of fluidity and raw sensuality. Mesmerized, you can’t tear your eyes away, tracing the contours of his physique, the chiseled jawline, the tantalizing glimpse of collarbones beneath his unbuttoned shirt. The way that he moves his hips, undulating and assaulting the air like he’s making love to it, sends dangerous spikes of arousal through your body. And then, your breath catches as you notice the daring accessory adorning his torso—a leather harness, snugly embracing his waist wrapped around him twice and being collected at his shoulders, with a tantalizing hint of danger, leaving you spellbound and inexplicably captivated.

No. That couldn’t possibly be your saliva glistening on the floor, could it?

“Have you found a place to sit?” Hana’s voice interrupts your trance, but as you remain transfixed, she tracks your gaze to the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor, drawing an eclectic crowd like moths to a flame. With a knowing chuckle, she realizes the source of your fixation.

“Ah... Jimin has caught your eye,” she chuckles, a mischievous smirk dancing on her lips as she wets them with the tip of her tongue. With a playful wink, she acknowledges your attraction before swiftly scanning the room for the elusive empty booth you had overlooked.

She drags you along with your drinks to an unoccupied booth, the crimson leather beckoning like a siren’s call. You both sink into the plush seats, but your attention remains tethered to Jimin, captivated by his every fluid motion.

You’re spellbound, utterly captivated by the mesmerizing display unfolding before you. How does someone possess such mastery over their own body? With each twist and turn, Jimin exudes a level of control that borders on otherworldly, his slender frame clad in skin-tight leather pants that leave little to the imagination. His thighs, robust and powerful, evoke a primal longing within you, God, what you’d do to be crushed by those.

The sound of something snapping jolts you from your trance, and you instinctively tear your gaze away from Jimin, heat flooding your cheeks and ears as you turn towards your best friend. Your heart pounds, caught between embarrassment and exhilaration, as her fingers snap, commanding your attention back to her, a silent reminder of the real world beyond your intoxicating reverie.

“You’ve got it bad for him,” she smirks, teasing and taunting in equal measure as she swirls her straw through her drink, a wicked gleam dancing in her eyes before her lips playfully encircles the straw, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

“No, I don't,” you declare, the lie hanging heavy in the air, though you’re well aware she sees right through you. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, betraying your denial, while your gaze remains ensnared by the mesmerizing figure on the dance floor. With each pulse of the music, your heart threatens to break free from your chest, pounding an erratic rhythm of desire and apprehension.

“You and every other soul in Magic Shop,” she bursts out laughing, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she brings her drink to her lips once more, the ice clinking against the glass in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the music.

Your brows knit together in a mix of frustration and discomfort. She’s keenly aware of how long it’s been since you’ve let loose, both on the dance floor and in the bedroom. She knows the ache of longing that's settled deep within you, a silent companion during those lonely nights. And perhaps that’s why she’s orchestrated this night out, dragging you to this chaotic den of temptation, her intentions as transparent as glass: she wants you to indulge, to find release in the arms of another.

Yet, despite Hana’s persistent nudges towards potential romantic connections, you harbor little optimism for any amorous encounters tonight beyond enjoying the company of your friend. It’s not that you hold rigid standards, per se, but after navigating through numerous relationships and even dalliances with one-night stands, you’ve come to a firm conclusion: you don’t crave love, nor do you feel a pressing need for a man in your life. However, Hana sees it differently; she views your reluctance to dive back into the dating pool as a lamentable missed opportunity for some good dick, hence her relentless efforts to nudge you towards potential romantic escapades.

None of your past relationships have managed to captivate you for long; they’ve all fallen short of taming your restless spirit or fulfilling your insatiable hunger. None have been able to meet you on equal footing, to sate the voracious appetite that burns within you.

But as you watch Jimin, something shifts within you, challenging your steadfast stance on one-night stands. Holy fuck, the man’s dancing is nothing short of mesmerizing, and if you claimed you weren’t already feeling a surge of arousal just from laying eyes on him, well, that would be a blatant lie.

He might just possess the rare ability to match your intensity, your insatiable hunger for connection. He exudes an aura of irresistibility that both entices and intimidates you, knowing full well he could be too much to handle. But you revel in the thrill of the chase too much to resist the temptation of a potentially unforgettable encounter.

You find yourself unable to shake the thought: does the way he moves on the dance floor hint at his prowess between the sheets? Those hips, snapping and thrusting with such abandon, leave little to the imagination, igniting fantasies of what they could do in a more intimate setting. If only it weren’t just the air he was thrusting into…

Fuck.

A shiver of apprehension snakes down your spine as you witness the crowd parting, creating a path directly towards you. Dread coils in the pit of your stomach as you realize the magnetic force drawing him closer is aimed squarely in your direction.

His gaze, as dark as the depths of the club’s chaos, pierces through the tumult, locking onto you with a laser-like intensity. In those obsidian orbs, a potent mixture of desire, confidence, and a hint of something dangerous dances. A quick flick of his tongue over his lips sends a jolt of electricity through the air, so fleeting you almost doubt you saw it, yet you can’t shake the image of something glinting, sharp, nestled between his teeth.

Your pulse races even faster, a frantic rhythm matching the pounding bass of the music, as Hana’s kick under the table barely registers amidst the magnetic pull of Jimin’s gaze. With each step he takes toward you, the air grows thinner, suffused with the heady anticipation of his proximity. Your lungs strain for oxygen, chest heaving with each shallow breath, as he finally stands before you, a commanding presence that leaves you breathless and utterly captivated.

“Hi,” his voice is a seductive melody, dripping with a sweetness that lingers in the air like honey. His complexion, paler than the moonlight, seems to shimmer under the dim lights of the club, casting an ethereal glow that draws you in even closer.

“I haven’t seen you in The Magic Shop before. Care to dance?” His invitation is laced with an enticing charm, emphasized by the subtle swipe of his tongue over his lips, leaving them glistening with a tempting sheen. Those lips, plush and inviting, evoke a sinful allure, almost reminiscent of a Bratz doll, but with a touch of dangerous sophistication. And his eyes, simultaneously gentle yet piercing, hold a captivating depth that beckons you further into his intoxicating world.

For a fleeting moment, you’re rendered speechless, caught off guard by his proposition, until Hana’s insistent nudge against your shin reignites your senses. With a jolt, your mind snaps back into focus, racing to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions and desires swirling within you.

You can’t help but smile, warmth flooding your cheeks as a rosy hue paints your features. “Sure,” you reply, the word escaping in a breathless whisper, your heart pounding in anticipation of what the night may hold.

With a quick glance and an apologetic smile, you abandon both Hana and the untouched drink sitting before you, the promise of the dance floor eclipsing any lingering sense of guilt. She waves you off with a knowing smirk and a playful wink, seamlessly returning her attention to her own drink, her silent encouragement echoing in your mind as you navigate towards Jimin.

With a firm yet gentle grip, Jimin guides you back to the heart of the pulsating dance floor, his touch igniting a wave of electric anticipation. Envious gazes track your every move as he positions you in the center, his fingers finding their place on your hips with a confident precision. With each sway to the rhythm, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating connection between you and the music.

You’re enveloped in a trance-like state, surrendering to the rhythm dictated by his touch. While you may not consider yourself a skilled dancer, you grasp onto the simplicity of a few basic moves, but in this moment, you relinquish control, allowing the music to guide your every sway and dip, melding your body to its seductive melody.

Amidst the snickers and the encroaching dancers, Jimin remains unfazed, his attention steadfastly fixed on you and you alone. The world may swirl with whispers and glances, but in his eyes, there’s only the two of you, locked in a mesmerizing dance of desire and lust.

Drawing nearer, Jimin’s presence becomes almost suffocating, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in. His voice, dripping with a seductive allure that sends shivers down your spine, wraps around you like a venomous embrace. “What’s your name?” He murmurs, each word laced with a potent mixture of desire and danger, leaving you utterly captivated.

“Y/N,” you pant, the syllables escaping your lips in a breathless whisper, as if each letter were a confession of the wildfire burning within you. Your heart races like a runaway train, its thunderous beats drowning out the cacophony of the club around you. A flush of heat spreads through your body, igniting a primal fire that blazes from within, leaving you certain that every inch of you must be dripping with arousal, pooling at your feet like molten desire.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces himself, the words carrying a weight of promise as his fingers tighten around your hips, almost leaving an imprint on your skin. You nod in silent acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between you, as if the intensity of his touch speaks volumes more than mere words ever could.

Suddenly, he spins you around, pulling you flush against him, his dick pressing intimately against your ass as he grinds against you with an electrifying urgency. Resting his head on your shoulder, he envelops you in his intoxicating presence, the rhythm of the music pulsating through both of you. “You know,” he whispers huskily into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “I can smell you from here. And damn, you smell so damn good.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as he playfully nips at your earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With a daring touch, his hand edges dangerously close to your core, his fingers trailing along the hem of your dress, hiking it up just enough to send a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

The pressure of his body against yours, the rhythmic grind of his hips, brings an undeniable awareness of the growing bulge pressing into you with every movement. Each subtle thrust sends a surge of heat coursing through you, igniting an even fiercer desire that has you practically dripping with anticipation.

Releasing your hips with a tantalizing touch, he withdraws slightly, allowing you a moment to dance before him, a silent invitation to showcase your allure. His gaze, smoldering with appreciation, traces the curves of your body as he maneuvers around you, closing the distance once more. As he resumes his sensual grind against you, you're entranced by the fluidity of his movements, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of the music and the magnetic pull of his presence.

“Are you some kind of professional dancer?” You manage to question, though the words emerge as a breathless whisper, your lip caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to contain the moan that hovers on the edge of your lips, provoked by the tantalizing roll of his hips against your own.

Awareness of the surrounding stares registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but in this pulsating sea of bodies, everyone’s lost in their own rhythm. The only thing that matters is the intoxicating sensation of Jimin’s body pressed against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

He leans in once more, his voice a seductive melody laced with a tantalizing blend of sweetness and danger. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m a dancer.” Each word drips with an intoxicating allure, drawing you deeper into the irresistible allure of his world.

You gulp audibly, your hands instinctively finding their place on his chest, where his heart beats with a rhythm so languid, it could almost convince you it’s ceased to beat altogether. Yet, beneath the surface, it pulses steadily, a silent testament to the calm amidst the storm of his fervent movements upon the dance floor.

You lock eyes with him, a mischievous smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “So,” you tease, your voice barely a whisper, “are you as flexible in bed as you are on the dance floor?”

He licks his lips once more, a subtle gesture that sends a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something primal, something dangerously alluring flickering in the depths of his eyes. But before you can grasp it fully, it vanishes like a wisp of smoke, leaving you both captivated and curious.

His laughter spills forth, rich and raspy, a symphony that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze. His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens, transforming his face into a captivating portrait of mischief and allure. Leaning in close, his breath dances tantalizingly against your ear, each word a whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “Take me to your place,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive promise, “and you’ll find out.”

Your mind reels as a torrent of thoughts flood your senses.

Fuck. Is he for real?

Is this happening? Is he serious?

Pausing for a heartbeat, you draw back slightly, your gaze sweeping over him as you search for any hint of deceit or jest. The intensity of the moment demands clarity, and you refuse to be swept away without knowing if his words hold genuine intent or mere flirtatious banter.

“You heard correctly, darling. If you take me home, can I taste you?” His question hangs in the air, his eyes betraying an innocence that sharply contrasts with the sinful allure of his voice, each word dripping with a seductive promise that sets your pulse racing.

You swallow, hard, a surge of desire mingling with a tinge of apprehension as his words ignite a primal response within you. Your body betrays you, slick with anticipation, a physical manifestation of your yearning for the dangerous allure he exudes. Despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you find yourself drawn to the danger like a moth to a flame, craving the exhilarating thrill of the unknown that he represents.

“Yes,” you moan, unable to resist the primal urge coursing through you, as you press your hips into his, igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the air, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from him.

With every passing moment, it feels like the world around you is spinning out of control, but amidst the chaos, one thing remains crystal clear: the overwhelming desire pulsating between you and him. Driven by an insatiable hunger, you seize his hand and lead him back to the booth where you and Hana were previously seated, your heart pounding with the anticipation of what’s to come.

As you approach the booth, the scene unfolds before you—Hana seated on a stranger’s lap, their lips locked in a passionate embrace. With a mixture of amusement and urgency, you gently tap her shoulder, disrupting the fervent kiss as you insert yourself back into the moment.

Hana’s face lights up as she turns to greet you, her smile infectious and her laughter filling the air with vibrant energy. “Leaving already?” She exclaims, her voice buoyant with excitement. “Enjoy yourselves!” With a carefree wave and a raucous cheer, she dives back into her passionate exchange, leaving you to embark on your own adventure.

With a sense of trust and understanding between you and Hana, you leave the club, confident that she can handle herself. However, you both value communication and keeping each other informed of your whereabouts. As you step outside, you swiftly retrieve your phone, shooting her a quick text to let her know that you and Jimin are heading to your place.

His fingers, cool against your skin in contrast to the warmth of the night air, envelop you in a sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. Yet, in this moment, the chill is a welcome contrast to the heat of the anticipation swirling around you.

“I’ve ordered an Uber,” he announces with a smirk, his eyes ablaze with desire, a hunger that mirrors your own. Your response is a throaty moan, an instinctive acknowledgment of the electrifying tension between you.

He draws nearer, his presence overwhelming as he pulls you into the circle of his arms. His lips tease over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling anticipation in their wake, before tracing a path to your ear. With a husky whisper that sends shivers cascading down your spine, he confesses, “I really can’t wait to taste you.”

You whimper softly, a mixture of desire and frustration escaping with each breath. The intensity of his desire ignites a fierce longing within you, matching your own fervor for him. The anticipation is almost unbearable, every passing second stretching into an eternity as you yearn for the arrival of the Uber to whisk you away to your place where you can finally satiate the burning desire between you.

As the car pulls up, Jimin graciously holds the door open, a silent invitation into the sanctuary of the backseat. You slide in first, feeling the heat of his presence close behind as he joins you, the space between you shrinking until you’re sitting intimately close, every breath shared in the electric anticipation of what's to come.

You relay your address to the Uber driver, the words tumbling from your lips with a sense of urgency that matches the pounding of your heart. With each passing moment, you draw closer to the sanctuary of your home, to the promise of Jimin’s touch enveloping you, surrounding you, until you’re consumed by the fiery desire that burns between you.

Jimin’s lips glisten with a subtle sheen as he licks them, a tantalizing gesture that sets your senses ablaze. His touch, cool against the warmth of your skin, sends a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine as his fingers find purchase on your thigh. With your dress hitched up slightly, you can’t help but tense at the sensation, every nerve alive with the electric current of his touch.

You bite down on your lip, a surge of anticipation coursing through you as his fingers inch closer and closer to your core. Your body responds with an undeniable urgency, your arousal evident in the way your pussy clenches and glistens with desire. Every fiber of your being screams with need, your craving for him reaching a fever pitch. With his fingers poised just shy of their destination, his gaze locks with yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite down on your lip with a fervor that borders on desperation, the taste of copper flooding your senses as you draw blood. With a sharp inhale, you part your thighs, offering him unrestricted access to the throbbing ache between them, your drenched cunt aching to be touched, to be claimed by him.

His fingers remain still, a maddening contrast to the raging desire coursing through you, and frustration begins to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. In a desperate attempt to incite movement, you roll your hips, a silent plea for his touch to ignite the fire within you. Instead, his response is unexpected, his grip on your thigh tightening with a roughness that sends a jolt of electricity racing through you.

“Use your words, pretty.”

His gaze is penetrating, holding you in a vice grip of intensity that leaves you breathless and trembling. As you feel yourself drowning in the depth of his eyes, a desperate plea escapes your lips in a whispered whimper, “Please.”

You part your legs wider, a silent invitation for him to delve deeper into the intoxicating depths of your desire. In response, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own in a searing kiss that ignites a fiery passion between you. His lips, impossibly soft and pillowy, leave you yearning for more even as they reluctantly part from yours. As his hand finally descends to your bare pussy, stroking your exposed clit with deliberate intent, his words hang in the air like a taunt, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “You’re not wearing underwear,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of mischief that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

You chuckle, a bold and bratty streak emerging within you as you revel in the delicious tension between you. “I’m not,” you reply, your voice laced with a playful defiance that only serves to fuel the fire between you.

He returns to kissing you with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze, the heat of his lips melding with yours in a passionate dance of desire. Each kiss is a tantalizing blend of heat and moisture, igniting a primal hunger within you. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their exploration of your core, teasing you with light strokes that send waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, a strangled moan escapes your lips, echoing the depth of your pleasure. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the stern gaze of the Uber driver reflected in the rearview mirror. Without a word spoken, his disapproving stare speaks volumes, conveying his unspoken demand with chilling clarity, leaving you both startled and exhilarated by the illicit thrill of being caught in the act.

You reluctantly pull away from Jimin’s embrace, your breath ragged and labored, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you address both him and the Uber driver. “Sorry,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, a mix of apology and urgency lacing your words. With a silent gesture to Jimin, you convey the unspoken agreement to restrain yourselves until you reach the privacy of your own home, the anticipation of what's to come only adding to the charged atmosphere between you.

Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder, seeking solace in his warmth, your hand finding its place on his thigh, tantalizingly close to the growing bulge in his pants.

The car ride feels like an eternity, every passing moment tinged with the tension of anticipation and the weight of the Uber driver’s disapproving gaze in the rearview mirror. As the vehicle finally comes to a halt in front of your apartment building, you’re met once again with the stern glare of the driver, a silent reminder of the boundaries you’ve overstepped. With a contrite nod, you silently acknowledge his unspoken reprimand, eager to escape the confines of the car and indulge in the privacy of your own space.

Jimin shadows your every move as you lead the way to the elevator, his presence a palpable force at your back. With a silent determination, you press the buttons, the soft chime signaling the arrival of the elevator. Stepping inside, the silence between you hangs heavy, the tension crackling in the air like electricity. As you press the button for the 7th floor, the doors begin to slide shut, sealing you in. Before you can react, Jimin’s hands are on you, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall with a force that steals your breath away.

His lips capture yours in a searing kiss, igniting a blaze of desire that consumes you both. As his tongue seeks entrance, you part your lips willingly, inviting him into a sensual dance of intertwining desires. Together, your tongues swirl and dance in a passionate embrace, each movement igniting a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through every fiber of your being.

A low, guttural moan escapes your lips, muffled by the intensity of the kiss as waves of heat and need cascade through your body. Every touch, every sensation leaves you burning with desire, your body aching for more of him, yearning to be consumed by the fire of his touch.

His roughness only fuels the fire burning within you, each forceful movement igniting a primal hunger that drives you wild with desire. The sensation of being pressed against the elevator wall sends shivers of excitement coursing through your body, intensifying the urgent need building between you. Unable to resist the intoxicating pull, you grind your core against his, the friction sending sparks flying and eliciting a guttural groan of pleasure from him, further fueling the fiery passion enveloping you both.

With a sudden ding, the elevator doors slide open, signaling your arrival at your floor with a jolt of anticipation.

A thin strand of saliva lingers, a tangible link between you and Jimin as you reluctantly part from his plush lips. The intensity of your kiss leaves you both breathless, panting heavily as if you’ve exerted yourselves far more than you actually have.

With a sense of urgency, you dart out of the elevator, tugging him along in your wake, each step quickened by the feverish anticipation coursing through your veins. As you approach your door, your movements become frantic, fingers fumbling in your purse in search of the keys, while his hands boldly explore the curves of your ass, fingers gripping with a hunger that mirrors your own.

A shiver of raw desire courses through you, electrifying every nerve as the keys slip from your trembling fingers. With a shaky breath, you bend down to retrieve them, the movement pressing your ass tantalizingly against his hardened dick, sending a jolt of anticipation surging through both of you.

A deep, primal growl escapes him, a guttural symphony of desire as you press your body against his, grinding against his throbbing cock with a fervor that leaves you both breathless. Finally seizing the keys, you straighten up, the charged silence between you, signaling the beginning of what promises to be an unforgettable night.

Before slipping the keys into the lock, you cast a teasing glance over your shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as you drink in the sight of him. His eyes are dark pools of desire, wide and unblinking, reflecting a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. In that moment, you recognize the potent combination of lust and danger lurking within him, a heady concoction that only serves to heighten the intensity of your desire.

As you turn the key in the lock, the door swings open, but before you can even react, Jimin’s strength propels you forward, pressing you firmly against it. With a forceful urgency, he shoves you against the wall inside, your back meeting it with a thud, his movements swift as he swiftly closes and locks the door behind him. Keys tumble from your grasp once more, but in the heat of the moment, their clatter goes unnoticed. His lips find yours again in a searing kiss, a low growl rumbling from deep within him as he hungrily seeks to devour you, his desire palpable and insatiable.

“I want you so bad, please tell me I can have you,” he pants between feverish kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he pleads for permission, his desire echoing in every word. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his passion, you respond with a soft moan, your head nodding in silent affirmation, giving yourself over completely to the irresistible pull of his longing.

In a sudden rush of boldness, you recall his desire for vocal affirmation, and with a newfound confidence, you meet his gaze head-on. “I want you too,” you declare, your voice laced with a breathless urgency. “I want to suck your dick,” you continue, your words dripping with a raw desire that sets your pulse racing.

A deep, primal groan escapes him, reverberating through your shared kiss, as he breaks away just long enough to deliver his fervent response. “No,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “I want to taste you,” he declares, his words a promise of untold pleasures yet to come.

With a commanding presence, he presses his body against yours, pinning you firmly to the wall as his lips hover tantalizingly close to your neck, poised over your throbbing pulse point. In a surge of passion, he dives in, his kisses and licks igniting a fervent blaze of desire that leaves you gasping for air, each grunt and growl a primal symphony of pleasure echoing through the heated embrace.

His hands roam hungrily over your hips, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive urgency that sends shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, your own hands, rendered momentarily powerless by the overwhelming intensity of his touch, hang limply at your sides, unable to resist his commanding hold.

One of his thighs effortlessly slots between yours, pressing intimately against your core and sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. The friction ignites a primal response, coaxing a wanton moan to escape your lips, its echoes reverberating through the otherwise quiet hallway of your apartment.

As your brain snaps back to attention, your hands instinctively find their way to his hips, tracing the lines of his body with a newfound sense of purpose. With a boldness born of desire, you seek out his hardened dick, stroking him through the fabric of his pants with a firm yet teasing touch. His response is immediate and intense, a guttural moan escaping his lips and mingling with the heat of your kiss.

Your touch elicits a symphony of sweet, needy noises from him, each sound fueling the fire of your desire until you notice a subtle shift in his gaze. In that moment, something snaps within him, a primal instinct unleashed as his eyes darken with an intensity that sets your senses ablaze.

With a sudden, electrifying intensity, one of his hands ascends to your neck, his fingers curling possessively around it as he begins to exert pressure, cutting off your air supply.

The sensation of oxygen deprivation sends a rush of lightheaded euphoria coursing through you, mingling with the overwhelming arousal that pulses relentlessly through your veins. In that moment, every nerve in your body ignites with a primal hunger, the boundary between pleasure and pain blurring into a tantalizing blur of ecstasy.

With an irresistible force, he withdraws slightly, his fingers maintaining their tight grip around your neck, a gesture of rough dominance that sets your senses ablaze with anticipation. Despite the intensity of his touch, there’s a calculated restraint in his actions, a deliberate balance between aggression and control that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. As you meet his gaze, you’re ensnared by the dark depths of his eyes, which shimmer with a potent combination of desire, danger, and an unspoken promise of untold pleasures yet to come. The sensation has your stomach knotting with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Behave,” he hisses, his words a menacing command that sends a shiver down your spine as you struggle for precious air, denied by his unyielding grip. With a wicked smirk, he releases his hold on your throat, and you stagger, your body nearly buckling beneath the weight of the intensity that courses through you, threatening to send you crumbling to the floor in a dizzying haze of desire and submission.

Gasping for air, your chest heaves with the effort as you cough, the sensation of your lungs burning only fueling your resolve. With determination shining bright in your eyes, you meet his gaze head-on. “No,” you assert, your voice trembling with defiance yet laced with an undeniable sense of strength and conviction.

With a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, you lick them in anticipation before lowering yourself gracefully to the floor, your gaze locked on his with an unspoken challenge. Swift and determined, your fingers deftly find the button of his sleek black leather pants, skillfully undoing them before defying gravity and pulling them down along with his boxers, exposing him fully to your hungry gaze.

As his cock springs free, a resounding thud fills the room as it hits his stomach, the sound echoing off the walls with a palpable intensity. Thick and girthy, it stands proudly before you. While he may not boast the longest length you’ve encountered, you recognize that true pleasure lies not in size alone, but in the mastery of technique and the depth of connection shared between two bodies.

Anticipation courses through you like a current as you contemplate the possibilities of his prowess, a hunger igniting within you at the thought of experiencing his mastery firsthand. His cock, a work of art in its own right, boasts a rosy head glistening with a single droplet of precum, a tantalizing preview of the delights to come. With a confident grip, you encircle it with your hand, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from his lips as you begin to explore the contours of his dick.

With innocent doe eyes, you gaze up at him, lashes fluttering like the delicate wings of a butterfly, as you teasingly dart out your tongue to caress the glistening head of his cock. Each lick is a deliberate stroke of temptation, your movements reminiscent of savoring an ice cream cone on a scorching summer day, the taste of him a delectable treat to be savored. And all the while, your eyes remain locked with his, a silent challenge passing between you.

“You’re misbehaving,” he pants, his voice laced with a mixture of warning and desire, yet his gaze softens with an unmistakable tenderness that belies any true threat. But the allure of pushing his boundaries further is too intoxicating to resist, so you continue your ministrations with a defiant smirk, relishing in the delicious tension that crackles between you.

“But you like it, don’t you?” You tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you bat your eyes at him once more. Your hand continues its rhythmic stroking, each movement eliciting a fervent pant of pleasure from him, as the lines between restraint and abandon blur in the heat of the moment.

“I can tell,” you purr, a mischievous smirk dancing upon your lips as you lean in to kiss the head of his cock. With tantalizing finesse, your tongue traces along his slit, teasingly exploring every contour and eliciting a shiver of pleasure that courses through him like wildfire.

“Fuck,” he pants, his voice thick with desire as his body quivers under your touch, every sensation echoing with raw intensity. And oh, how you revel in it, the sheer power of your influence over him igniting a fire within you that burns with insatiable passion.

“Spit on my tongue,” you command, your voice a sultry whisper as you eagerly present your tongue before him, a bold invitation that speaks volumes of your desire. The air crackles with anticipation as you wait for his response, every moment pregnant with the promise of ecstasy.

He regards you with a questioning gaze, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re a nasty one, aren’t you?” He muses, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

“Yes. I’m nasty,” you assert, your voice dripping with unabashed confidence as you hold his gaze, unyielding in your demand. “Now spit in my mouth,” with an enticing flicker of your tongue, you beckon him to fulfill your desire, every nerve alive with anticipation for the illicit thrill that awaits.

Immediately complying, he spits on your awaiting tongue, a primal act of submission and passion that ignites a fiery intensity between you. With a seductive smile playing on your lips, you tease him with a playful sway of your hips before taking his dick deep into your mouth in one smooth motion.

You start with a deliberate rhythm, drawing him in with deliberate slowness that belies the fervent desire burning within you. Each inch of him fills your mouth, your throat accommodating his cock as you battle your own limits, a testament to your unwavering dedication to his pleasure. His fingers intertwine with your hair, a gentle yet commanding hold that guides and encourages you to unleash the full force of your prowess.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps, his voice trembling with raw desire as you envelop him with your mouth, every movement sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body.

You mumble around his cock, the vibrations sending a symphony of pleasure through his body, each note echoing with the intensity of your desire.

He begins to fuck into your warm mouth with urgency, his thrusts gaining momentum with each slide, his grunts coming out in ragged breaths, sounding like he’s thoroughly out of breath.

“You’re doing so good, such a good girl,” he pants, his gaze fixated on you, your mouth enveloping him completely. The sight alone drives him wild, his arousal escalating as he feels his dick twitching inside your warm, welcoming mouth.

One of his hands grabs your cheek and pushes you further into him, your nose grazing against his dark brown pubic hair, leaving you gasping for air as you feel yourself choking on his dick.

“That’s what you get for misbehaving,” he grunts, a tug on your hair as he pulls you off his dick.

You gasp desperately for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the saliva cascading from your lips.

Amidst your desperate panting, his chuckle pierces the air, laden with a menacing edge. Yet, fueled by your own defiance, you can’t resist the urge to unleash the brat within. With newfound fervor, you envelop him once more, your mouth moving in a wild, frenzied rhythm, eager to reclaim your dominance.

His hands grip your hair once more, tugging gently, an urgent plea in his touch. “I don’t want to come yet,” he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint and desire, a silent request for restraint echoed in his words.

Determined, you persist with fervor, each suction more insistent than the last, as if your very existence hinges on the rhythm of your movements. Sensing his impending release, his body becomes a symphony of tension and release, an exquisite dance to the crescendo of pleasure. Yet you press on, his hands now motionless in your hair, surrendering to the inevitable ecstasy building within him.

You moan softly, the vibration adding to the intensity of the moment, your cheeks hollowing as you draw him in, each breath drawn through your nose a desperate echo of your own need. Glancing up at him, you’re met with eyes ablaze, a visage of pure desire and disarray, his appearance a testament to the pleasure that courses through his veins, leaving him utterly ravished.

You press yourself further onto him, his cock delving deeper until it meets the resistance of your throat. His fingers tighten around your hair, a sensation that ignites a thrilling burn along your scalp, a welcomed discomfort that fuels your desire. With a frustrated hiss, he releases into your waiting mouth, warm liquid cascading down your throat. You fight the urge to gag, focusing on steady breaths through your nose, grounding yourself in the moment as he reaches the peak of ecstasy.

He gasps, his breath ragged, a testament to his spent state as you continue to coax out every last tremor of pleasure. He lets out a whimper, overwhelmed by the intensity, prompting you to release his dick with a satisfying pop, a glistening string of saliva bridging the connection between you once more.

“You little minx,” he pants, playfully slapping your cheek as a smirk dances on his lips, his eyes ablaze with mischief, like a wildfire of desire.

“I tried so hard not to come, but I guess you had other plans,” he chuckles, his gaze fixed on you as you lick your lips teasingly, each movement a silent invitation for more mischief.

“Yeah, the night is still young,” you declare, rising to your feet with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Without hesitation, you extend your tongue once more, and this time, Jimin eagerly spits into your waiting mouth, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“You’re so nasty,” he smirks, leaning in to kiss you hungrily, as if he’s eager to devour every inch of your being.

When you finally pull apart, you can’t help but chuckle softly. “And you love every bit of it,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes.

He clearly revels in it, evident as he steps back, shedding his pants and boxers until they form a pool at his feet. Even his shoes aren’t spared, kicked off swiftly as he stands there, completely bare from the waist down.

Despite his softened dick, he remains an arresting sight, captivating and dangerous in his nakedness, every contour and line a testament to his allure.

With effortless strength, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you through your apartment, a smirk playing on his lips. “Bedroom?” He suggests, his voice laced with anticipation.

You chuckle softly, nodding towards your right, and with a casual tap of his foot, he swings the bedroom door open. A rush of heat floods through you, your arousal evident as you feel the slick warmth between your legs, undoubtedly coating him.

He opts not to flip the switch, allowing the gentle glow from the kitchen to filter into your bedroom, casting a tantalizing veil of shadows. With a playful yet confident gesture, he tosses you onto the bed, eliciting a spontaneous burst of laughter from you, reminiscent of a lovestruck fool lost in the feelings of her crush.

You’re well aware that catching feelings wasn’t part of the plan, that this was meant to be a fleeting encounter. Yet, as the intensity of the moment swells around you, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to every sensation, every touch, every whispered word shared between you. Despite your best efforts to guard your heart, you can’t help but revel in the dizzying whirlwind of emotions swirling within you, silently acknowledging that you’re utterly captivated by every moment spent in his company.

He lingers above you, a tantalizing pause that leaves anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a deliberate yet primal grace, he sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed, his hands firmly clasping your ankles as he draws you irresistibly closer to the edge.

With a primal hunger, he yanks your scanty dress up to your waist, a guttural growl escaping his lips as his gaze locks onto your shimmering, needy pussy, the raw desire in his eyes igniting a blazing fire within you.

“Fuck. You’re practically a waterfall down there,” he remarks, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he surveys your drenched arousal.

You spread your legs invitingly, gazing down your body at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, have a taste,” you challenge, your voice dripping with anticipation.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs and placing them over his shoulders. His mouth descends to your aching core, lips and tongue poised to give you the attention you crave.

His plush tongue meets your clit first, eliciting a frustrated moan from your lips. He sucks with the hunger of a starved man, savoring your taste. Moving down, he uses his fingers to spread your folds, allowing him to dip his tongue inside your throbbing entrance.

You pant, clenching around his probing tongue, every nerve alight with bliss, feeling as though you’ve been transported to heaven.

His tongue licks and laps at your sensitive skin, each stroke sending shivers through your trembling body. The need building inside you is almost unbearable—you crave so much more.

For a moment, his tongue plunges into your cunt, teasing and stimulating your hole. Growing impatient, your hands dart down to grip his blonde locks, fingers clenching tightly as you try to urge him on, desperate for more of his relentless attention.

He seems to get the hint, moving up to suck on your clit, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you release a soft scream.

Your body clenches, fingers gripping his hair tighter as a frustrated grunt escapes your lips.

The room fills with slurping noises, driving your mind into a frenzy of pleasure.

Suddenly, his fingers prod at your entrance, and you clench in anticipation. God, you want it—you want his fingers so bad. Honestly, you crave a lot more than just his fingers.

He pushes in one finger at first, and your breath hitches. Your walls clench around the single digit, and it doesn’t take long before you’re grinding into his hand and face, desperate for more.

Fuck, how is he so skilled with both his hands and mouth? His suction on your clit is relentless, alternating between perfect suction and expertly flattening his tongue, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes your bundle of nerves from side to side.

As a second finger joins the first in your tight hole, you gasp at the delicious stretch. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and Jimin’s girthy size alone suggests you’ll need ample preparation. Despite already feeling dripping with anticipation, you know the importance of proper preparation to avoid any uncomfortable burns from the stretch.

With a suction-like force around your clit, he sends you reeling, seeing stars with each electrifying sensation. His face withdraws from your pussy, yet his fingers remain firmly embedded within you, a tantalizing promise of what’s to come.

His face gleams with your essence. His eyes, deep as obsidian, flicker with desire, his lips curved into a teasing smirk as he licks them hungrily. “Think you’re ready for a third finger?”

You moan unabashedly as his fingers find that sweet spot within, every touch igniting a cascade of sensations that render you pliant. Biting your lip to stifle the cries of pleasure, you nod eagerly. “Yes,” you pant, your voice a fervent plea, “please, get me ready for your cock.”

A triumphant smirk dances on his lips as he responds with a pleased grunt, effortlessly sliding in a third finger. The stretch is undeniable, prompting you to draw in a deep breath of air to accommodate the delicious fullness. Though there’s no burning sensation, your body pulses with the intensity of your arousal, each sensation amplified by your slickness.

“You like it?” His voice, a sultry whisper, sends shivers down your spine as he inquires, his pace quickening with each determined thrust of his three fingers inside you. Your response is immediate, a chorus of moans escaping your lips in tandem with his relentless motion.

“Yes,” you gasp, feeling the intensity of his touch reverberate through every fiber of your being. Heat pools at your core, beads of sweat glistening along your hairline, as your body surrenders to the overwhelming waves of pleasure washing over you.

“Just wait until I fill you with my cock,” he murmurs, his voice laced with anticipation, his eyes smoldering with desire. “I want to see you fall apart on it. God, you’re so pretty,” he adds, his words a seductive whisper that sends shivers down your spine. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he returns to your pussy, trailing a teasing lick from his fingers buried inside you up to your throbbing clit, igniting a fire of longing within you.

“Fuck, Jimin. Please,” you pant, your voice thick with need. Every nerve in your body aches for his touch, craving the electrifying sensation of his tongue against your skin once more. You can sense the impending arrival of an orgasm, its tantalizing tendrils teasing at the edges of your consciousness, and you yearn for him to push you over the edge, to obliterate every last shred of restraint until you’re consumed by ecstasy.

“Please what?” He taunts again, his tongue teasingly tracing delicate patterns over your throbbing clit. The sensation sends waves of frustration coursing through you, igniting a fierce longing for more of his touch. You can feel the tension building within you, a potent mix of desire and impatience, as you yearn for his tongue to remain there indefinitely, granting you the blissful release you crave.

“Please make me come already!” You pant in exasperation, your fingers digging into the sheets beside your hips, a desperate plea echoing in the heated air between you.

With a shit-eating smirk, he dives back down, his mouth latching onto your clit with aggressive fervor. His relentless licking sends bolts of electricity through your body, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their relentless thrusting inside you, creating a symphony of pleasure that promises to tip you over the brink of ecstasy any moment now.

As his teeth tug at your clit, a surge of electricity shoots through your body, igniting every nerve ending with anticipation. The knot in your stomach tightens with each tantalizing pull, signaling the imminent unraveling of your senses.

“Yes. Fuck. I’m gonna come, Jimin-ah! Fuck, you’re so good,” the words tumble from your lips in a breathless rush, punctuated by the primal rhythm of your panting. Your body thrashes with unrestrained pleasure, every nerve alive with the electric touch of his lips and tongue. In response, Jimin’s hand tightens around your hips, pulling you even further down into his face.

As his tongue presses down on your throbbing clit, his fingers continue their relentless thrusts, driving you wild with their rapid pace. Your muscles tighten involuntarily, signaling the imminent arrival of your climax. It’s right there, teetering on the edge, tantalizingly close as every fiber of your being aches for release.

With your body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy, he withdraws his tongue from your throbbing clit, his face shimmering with your essence. “Do you really think you deserve to come?” His question hangs in the air, a challenge laced with mischief and desire.

Frustration boils within you, your body teetering on the edge of release, craving that sweet release. With a hiss of desperation, you prop yourself up on your arms, determined to meet his gaze. “I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, your voice a whispered promise laden with need. “I’ll behave. Just let me... please, let me come.”

His tongue returns to your throbbing clit with a ferocity that reignites every nerve ending, driving you to the precipice of ecstasy faster than thought itself. Your breath catches in your throat, each ragged moan echoing the crescendo building within you. As your body tenses with anticipation, you feel the inevitable release cresting like a tidal wave, crashing over you in blissful waves. Tremors ripple through your body, held securely in his grasp, as he maintains his relentless assault of pleasure, ensuring your euphoria knows no bounds.

As the waves of ecstasy continue to crash over you, he remains steadfast in his ministrations, guiding you through the tempest of pleasure. Yet, as the intensity peaks, reaching heights almost unbearable, you signal your overwhelming sensation by grasping his hair once more, a silent plea for respite amidst the storm of sensation.

His fingers retreat, and a pang of longing fills the void they leave behind, craving the sensation of being filled with his touch once more. His gaze meets yours, ablaze with desire and urgency, mirroring the yearning that courses through your own veins.

“Was it good?” He teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at you, observing the subtle flush painting your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Fuck yes,” you pant, your voice husky with desire, feeling thoroughly ravished. Yet, beneath the lingering sensations, anticipation simmers, an eager yearning for him to take you with his cock, to stretch you, to fill you completely with his intoxicating presence.

He comes up to hover over you, his presence intense as he locks eyes with you. “You know what my plan is?” He murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyebrow raises in curiosity, your heart beating a little faster as you wait for his next move, uncertain yet intrigued.

“I want to ruin you so deeply that every touch, every kiss, every moment with another will only remind you of me,” he whispers huskily into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your body responds to his words, your pussy clenching around emptiness at his crude words.

“You’ve already achieved that, Jimin. No other man could ever measure up to the fire you ignite within me,” you confess, your voice laden with desire and admiration, your body still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure.

Your gaze, undoubtedly dazed and intoxicated with lust, fixes on him with an urgency that speaks volumes. “Jimin,” you implore, your fingers grasping at his arms, “I need you inside me. Right now. Please fuck me.”

He rakes his hand through his disheveled hair, a dangerous glint igniting in his eyes as he bites his lip in contemplation. “Fuck,” he breathes, desire smoldering in his gaze. “I want to fuck you. Badly. But I don’t have condoms. Do you or are you okay without that?”

You hold his gaze, your voice steady despite the urgency pulsing through you. “I don’t have any condoms either,” you admit, your eyes searching his for reassurance. “But I’m on birth control and I’m clean. Are you?” Your breath steadies, anticipation threading through your words.

His voice carries a confident assurance, yet there’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he meets yours. “Yeah, I’m clean,” he confirms, his tone firm, but tinged with a hint of vulnerability, as if silently seeking your trust.

“Then fuck me already,” you say, a bashful smile playing on your lips, your eyes locked with his, daring him to make the next move.

Jimin sits up, shedding his harness like shedding inhibitions, unbuttoning his white shirt with a flourish and tossing it carelessly to the floor. Now completely naked, he embodies the essence of a god, his presence both captivating and dangerous. Every line of his form speaks of strength and sin, his lean muscles rippling beneath pale skin that seems to glow in the dim light.

His touch ignites a trail of electricity along your skin as his fingers trace the curve of your sides. With a swift motion, he seizes the fabric of your dress, lifting it over your face, and then, in one fluid movement, he strips it away, revealing your body completely to his hungry gaze.

“No bra?”

With a mischievous chuckle, you shoot him a playful wink, a silent invitation dancing in your eyes.

“You really are a wicked little thing. Were you planning to seduce someone tonight?” His smirk deepens as his gaze lingers on your exposed breasts. His hands, cool against your skin, find their way to your chest, cupping them firmly, coaxing your nipples into stiff peaks within seconds.

He chuckles, his fingers dancing lightly over your skin, teasing and tempting you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as anticipation courses through your veins.

“No, I just revel in the freedom of my body. Restrictions aren’t my thing. Encountering you, though, was a delightful surprise,” you chuckle, feeling his fingertips tracing patterns over your nipples, each touch sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine.

His fingers encircle both of your nipples, pinching them just so, and your body arches involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips as you pant for breath.

He guides you further up the bed, positioning your entire body for his pleasure. As he settles between your legs, his fingertips dance along your thighs, each touch sending electric waves of anticipation through your body, leaving you trembling in anticipation.

His voice, a low rumble, breaks through the charged air, his eyes seeking confirmation before he delves deeper into the intimacy between you two. “Are you ready?” He inquires, his gaze locking with yours, seeking not just consent, but a shared desire to plunge into the depths of pleasure together.

You respond with an urgent plea, your voice laden with need as you offer yourself fully to him. “Yes. Put your dick in me now,” you moan, your legs parting eagerly, beckoning him to claim you as your desire ignites the air around you.

With an air of command, he positions you, pulling your thighs onto his sides, his posture exuding dominance. As he rises to a sitting position, his dick completely hard again, standing tall and unyielding, eager to claim you once.

“You’re so wet, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he murmurs, his hand finding his cock, eliciting a guttural moan from deep within his chest.

“Fuck me, please,” you rasp, the urgency in your voice palpable. Begging isn’t your usual style, but right now, you can’t help it. You need him inside you, filling every inch of you.

As he aligns his dick with your eager entrance, a primal urgency fills the air. The anticipation builds with each teasing prod against your folds, a delicious tension mounting between you. With a low grunt, he starts to push into you, a slow and deliberate motion that sets your senses ablaze, every inch of him awakening a craving you never knew existed.

“Fucking hell, you are tight!” He pants, the raw intensity of his voice echoing the primal desire between you. With a slick ease, he slides inside, your wetness enveloping him like a long-awaited embrace, each inch stirring a tempest of pleasure that threatens to consume you both.

“Fuck. You’re so thick! It feels so good,” you moan, your voice a symphony of desire as he fills you completely. With him buried deep within, he pauses, his gaze intense and heated, a testament to the raw hunger pulsating between you, his sweat-slicked skin glistening in the dim light.

The way he stretches you is nothing short of incredible, sending waves of sensation rippling through your body. Your hands grasp onto his arms, seeking an anchor in the whirlwind of pleasure, forging a connection to him as he pushes you to the brink of ecstasy.

Then, he begins to move, drawing out slowly only to thrust back in with an irresistible force. Your gasp of pleasure is swallowed by the room as he establishes a rapid rhythm, plunging into you with a relentless urgency.

The bed jolts against the wall, the sound echoing through the room, and you know your neighbors will hear, but you couldn’t care less. You’re being thoroughly ravished, lost in the primal intensity of it all. The sheer ecstasy of the moment eclipses any concern for discretion.

He presses his weight into you, drawing you closer in an embrace that feels almost possessive. In a sudden rush of intimacy, he leans down to meet your lips, igniting a fiery kiss that seems to consume you both. As his body melds with yours, his every movement synchronized with the rhythmic pulse of his thrusts, you feel an electric connection unlike anything you've experienced before.

With tantalizing slowness, he trails kisses along your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. His lips wander to your jawline, peppering it with delicate kisses before descending to the curve of your throat. There, he lingers, his mouth exploring every inch, igniting a primal desire that courses through your veins. Gradually, he moves downward, his lips now caressing your breasts with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

His tongue dances sensually around your hardened nipple, sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. As his skilled hand teases and strokes the other, you arch into his touch, a symphony of sensations unraveling within you. With each gentle suck, you find yourself uttering his name in a breathless plea, lost in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

The sensation is intoxicating, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and desire that threatens to consume every inch of your being.

His closeness envelops you, his intoxicating scent mingling with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of desire. With each meeting of your hips, his warmth and the firmness of his cock hitting your sweet spot send ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, eliciting yet another primal moan from your lips.

“Jimin!” You moan, your hands instinctively flying up to his hair, fingers entwining in the soft strands as he devours your nipple, each flick of his tongue sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, igniting a dazzling array of stars behind your closed eyelids.

He hums and chuckles around your breasts, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine, his enjoyment evident in the way he savors every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

Then, he shifts his mouth over to the other nipple, the suction intense and demanding, sending electrifying waves of pleasure through your body. Simultaneously, his hand finds the other nipple, tugging at it with a tantalizing mix of firmness and gentleness.

His thrusts are relentless, driving deep into you with an intensity that leaves you reeling, each plunge sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. It’s so overwhelming, you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

With a soft pop, Jimin releases your nipple, his lips trailing a path of fire as he moves back up to your neck, planting gentle kisses that send shivers down your spine.

You pull him tighter into your embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you confess, “Shit. I’m so close.” The urgency in your voice mirrors the pounding of your heart, each beat echoing the relentless rhythm of your desire.

His voice, thick with desire, resonates in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he urges, “Come on my cock. I wanna feel you more.”

The raw, primal tone of his words sends a jolt of electricity through you, stirring an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. Every filthy utterance from his lips molds your insides like soft clay, leaving you trembling with an insatiable hunger for more.

His touch ignites a wildfire of sensation, each pinch and twist of your hardened peaks sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body again. You surrender to the delicious torment, your back arching instinctively as uninhibited moans escape your lips, a symphony of desire echoing through the room.

“Cream my dick, I know you can do it,” his words, a potent blend of desire and command, fuel your fervor even more. With each authoritative utterance, your need intensifies, the primal rhythm of his thrusts, his cock hitting heavenly places inside. His voice, a dark symphony of dominance, stirs something primal within you, urging you to surrender completely to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

With a tantalizing flick of his fingers as he pinches your nipple again, igniting a rush of sensation through your body, and a thrust that delves deeper than before, your senses blur, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of pleasure. As his dick plunges into you, reaching depths that send shockwaves of ecstasy through your core, you’re transported to the brink of euphoria. On the tender spot of your neck, he sucks a hickey there. With a primal cry that echoes through the room, you surrender to the waves of ecstasy crashing over you, releasing your essence onto his throbbing cock.

When your walls tighten around him, a low growl of pleasure escapes his lips, punctuating the intensity of the moment. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he gasps, his voice laced with ecstasy. As the pressure builds within him, he can feel the impending release drawing near. “I’m gonna come soon too,” he confesses, the urgency in his tone mirroring the electric tension between you.

You pant, your chest heaving as you slowly descend from the peak of your ecstasy. Every breath feels like a blessing, leaving you in a state of serene satisfaction. Jimin’s touch has shifted, his fingers tracing gentle paths along your sides, while his hips move against yours with a newfound tenderness, each roll diving into you in a more sensual manner.

His thrusts delve even deeper, each movement driving him to the core of your being, sending shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your body. The rhythmic collision of his hips against yours, accompanied by the tantalizing impact of his balls against your pussy, ignites a fire within you, consuming you with an insatiable hunger for more.

He hisses, a primal sound escaping his lips, as you feel the telltale twitch of his cock deep inside you, signaling his imminent release. His breath quickens, each exhale a symphony of urgency, while his once graceful movements give way to a primal frenzy. With a feverish intensity, he plunges into you, each thrust a fervent pursuit of his climax.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you pant, a symphony of pleasure and need in your voice, struggling to maintain your composure as he pounds into you with unrelenting force, each thrust igniting a wildfire of sensation within you. Despite the intensity, or perhaps because of it, you find yourself surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure, relishing every moment of his powerful onslaught.

“Shit. I’m losing control. I—, I can’t,” he begins to mumble, his voice strained with an unexpected vulnerability, and you observe a fleeting, pained expression flicker across his face.

You reach out for him, your hands cradling his face with a tender urgency. “Don’t be afraid,” you murmur, your voice a soothing melody amidst the storm of sensations. “Just let go. Come inside me and fill me up,” you whisper, your words a gentle invitation laced with a primal hunger that echoes the rhythm of your entwined bodies.

His gaze darkens, a tempest swirling in those depths, as if wrestling with unseen forces. With a guttural grunt, he appears on the verge of surrender, yet something holds him back, an inner conflict etched across his features like a turbulent battle playing out before your eyes.

With a few final, desperate thrusts, he succumbs, his release flooding into your welcoming depths, a primal grunt escaping his lips as he fills you with his heated essence, a potent mixture of ecstasy and raw desire intertwining in the heat of the moment.

Ecstasy floods your senses as you revel in the sensation of being completely filled, every nerve ending electrified with pleasure. Your toes curl involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the intense ecstasy coursing through your veins.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” his voice, filled with a mix of frustration and ecstasy, pants out an apology, his breaths ragged and heavy. It’s a symphony of emotions, the frustration of losing control mingling with the sheer bliss of the moment.

Confused by his apology, you chuckle softly, your hands finding solace in tracing patterns on his back, a silent reassurance amidst the continued rhythm of his movements within you.

His lips tenderly graze your neck, igniting a playful giggle within you. As his affection turns fervent, you relish in the sensation of him marking you, a primal instinct you love. Yet, the playful nip lingers longer, teeth sinking deeper than expected, sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. Your moans escalate, desire fueling your body’s response. But as the dizziness sets in and the need for air becomes desperate, a chilling realization dawns upon you—something is wrong.

Your eyelids flutter shut, a shiver racing down your spine as an icy chill envelops you, sapping away your energy. In the eerie silence that follows, darkness descends, swallowing you whole.

Someone shakes you gently, and you recognize Jimin’s touch. A warm, sticky sensation trails down your neck. Blood? The throb in your neck intensifies, a soreness radiating from the spot. Did he bite you so hard that you passed out?

“Y/N, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” His voice trembles with distress and worry as he gazes down at you, his eyes wide with panic.

“Why?” You ask, your voice slurred and heavy with exhaustion. Every word feels like an effort, and you’re overwhelmed by a bone-deep fatigue.

“I’m— I couldn’t stop,” he sobs, his voice cracking with guilt. You’re utterly baffled, trying to piece together what just happened.

“I should have told you sooner,” he mumbles, tears glistening in his eyes and his lips trembling. He looks like a completely different person from the confident man you met in Magic Shop.

“What’s wrong?” you groan in pain, attempting to move your body, but it refuses to cooperate, leaving you feeling heavy and unresponsive.

“I’m a vampire…” he confesses, his eyes lingering on your naked body, the sight of blood trickling from your neck and staining the white sheets.

“What?” Your eyes snap open, awareness flooding back as you see his tear-streaked face. Your heart aches at the sight, and you instinctively reach out, gently brushing away one of his tears.

“It’s okay. I had a feeling,” you murmur, doing your best to reassure him. When his tear-filled eyes meet yours again, you give him a soft, comforting smile.

“I think I drank too much from you. I’m so sorry. I should have asked,” he stammers, his voice heavy with shame. His eyes drop to the floor, reflecting his internal struggle. You can tell he takes immense pride in his self-control, and losing it tonight is tearing him apart.

“Jimin, it’s okay. I’m fine,” you reassure him, masking your own weakness as you attempt to sit up, your arms trembling slightly beneath you.

“It’s not fine. You passed out,” he grumbles, his expression a mix of concern and frustration, his lips forming a subtle pout.

"Oh. I did?" you ask, a flicker of confusion crossing your face as you piece together the fragments of your memory.

You take your hand up to your neck, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over the tender skin. Examining your palm, you find it smeared with a trace of blood, a stark reminder of the unexpected turn the night has taken. It’s not much though, and you guess the bleeding has almost stopped.

You reach out for him once more, closing the distance between you with a sudden, passionate kiss. The intensity of your embrace catches him off guard, his eyes widening in surprise, his lips yielding to the unexpected fervor of your touch.

When you draw back, your gaze locks onto his, unwavering and filled with a mix of emotions. “It’s still the best and most unforgettable one-night stand ever,” you declare, your words carrying a weight of sincerity and a hint of lingering desire.

He offers you a small smile that swiftly morphs into a mischievous smirk, as if he’s silently challenging you to another round.

“You know, I’m all for making this a regular thing, if you’re up for it. I mean, I don’t mind a little bite here and there. Maybe not to the point of blacking out, but everything before that? Damn, it was fucking hot,” you suggest with a playful wink, your sultry gaze locked with his, a subtle invitation lingering in the air as you moisten your lips.

An exasperated groan escapes him, his fangs emerging, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You extend your hand, tracing his full lips before daringly brushing your fingertips over his sharp fangs, a mixture of curiosity and arousal coursing through you.

Your gaze drifts downwards, finding his glistening dick coated in a mixture of your essence and his, standing proudly. With a seductive nibble on your lower lip, you reach out, your hand finding his throbbing cock, stroking it with deliberate intent, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him as pleasure courses through his body.

Teasingly, you inquire, “Ready to go for another round already? Got some superhuman stamina hidden in there?” Your jest is accompanied by an increase in pace, your hand working with newfound fervor, eliciting gasps of pleasure from him as his body responds eagerly to your touch.

In between gasps and needy pants, he admits, “Something like that.”

His voice, dripping with desire, sends shivers down your spine. “I’m ready for more. And you... do you really want this to be a regular thing?” His words punctuate each stroke, his pleasure palpable as he speaks.

“I’ve never found anyone who could keep up with me and my needs like this,” he confesses, his eyes closing intermittently in pure ecstasy.

“Yes, Jimin, me too,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire. “I feel like I’ve finally met my equal. You satisfy me in ways no one ever has. Please.” Your words, a soft plea, dance across his ear, sending shivers down his spine. As you feel him quivering beneath your touch, you know this connection is something truly special.

“Let me ride you,” you suggest with a sultry smile, but you’re not one to wait for permission. With a swift movement, you push him down onto the bed, eliciting a hiss of surprise followed by a deep, rumbling laugh from him. It’s a playful exchange, full of anticipation and eagerness for what’s to come.

“Fuck, I think I might be in love,” he groans, his words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as you straddle him, aligning yourself with his throbbing cock. With a slow, deliberate movement, you sink down onto him, relishing in the now familiar, exquisite stretch that never fails to send shivers of pleasure down your spine, something you’ll never tire off.

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bvidzsoo · 4 months

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Love Me Like A Rockstar (Special Chapter)

ー☆ Special Chapter: High In Low Places

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing ー☆ Word count: 8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, loveliees! As promised, you won't have to wait so much for updates anymore! ^^ I am so-so curious of what you will think of this chapter, I think it has a special place in my heart. I think I could have written it much better, but this is how it turned out, I hope it's still good. Before you start reading, I'd like to point out that reader (y/n) in this chapter is referred to as: she/her! ^^ Listen to High In Low Places before or while reading this chapter, and check out the author's note at the end of the chapter as well, it's important hehe! Let me know your thoughts and as always, I hope you enjoy, happy reading! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Mingi’s POV:

The studio apartment Mingi can afford for himself isn’t the biggest, let alone the fanciest, but it’s a nice home. It’s cozy now that he’s finally decorated it to his liking. Yunho always complained about the emptiness of the walls whenever he came over, so now, they are decorated with prints of Mingi’s favorite artists, musicians, and anime posters. Yeah, Mingi, apparently, is still into anime. It appears so that his mother’s ‘predictions’ of him outgrowing his ‘phase’—ironically, she’s said this both about his ‘phases’ when he got into anime and on the day he finally mustered up the courage to tell her that he wanted to become a musician—so, to put it simply, yes, Mingi is still into anime at the fragile age of twenty-three, and yes, he will always be into anime, even at the not so fragile age of seventy-five.

However, about the musician part…if Noir Zenith have a break-through and make it into the industry, all of Mingi’s dreams will be accomplished. Well, most of his dreams. He fears he cannot beat the record of eating seventy-six hot dogs in ten minutes—what an accomplishment it would be though. Mingi knows he’s good—surprisingly, around two years ago, he finally started believing in himself—and he has a silver of hope that if Noir Zenith don’t make it big, he can have a successful solo career still. His professors say so, at least, and so does Yunho. The second person who’s opinion counts the most to Mingi. The first would be his professors’ opinions—and maybe hers, but Mingi isn’t yet ready for that conversation. Not that there needs to be a conversation about it. Yeah, Mingi is pretty hardcore into her and sometimes he wonders if others can see it. If she can see it.

She’s like an enigma, hard to read, yet, at the same time an open book. That’s how Mingi sees her, at least. He thinks he’s never met such a complex and beautiful person inside out. He wonders if she wouldn’t have been so animus towards him at the beginning, whether they could have started out as something other than friends—considering the wishful fantasy that she did recognize the progress that’s been made between them, leading to a potential friendship. At least that’s how Mingi sees things. He wants more, of course he does, but he will never force her into doing something she’s not comfortable with. Maybe she’ll never like him the way he likes her, and that’s fine with Mingi. He can sit back and support her from the shadows if that means he gets to see her happy and content with herself and her life.

Will it absolutely crush his heart and turn him into the emo boy he was back in highschool? Absolutely. Does that stop him from silently yearning for her to return his feelings at the end of each day? No, it doesn’t. But that’s just who Mingi is. A sore loser who loves deeply, cares about everyone else first before he cares about himself, sacrifices himself for them and regularly throws himself under the bus for these people. Maybe that’s why having Yunho as his best friend is such a blessing in disguise. Yunho had taught him a few tricks, helped him become more independent and less sacrificial—but you know, Mingi could never fully get rid of that core part of his personality.

He's cooped up at his makeshift studio at home—really, it’s just a large oak desk pushed up against the wall of his bedroom, a mixer and laptop placed on it with tons of notebooks and scattered pencils around, his expensive headset that was totally a gift from Yunho when he started university, and his shitty microphone that he should change soon if he wants to keep producing at home—and then there’s a distant rumble in the distance, the storm is coming back. It’s been raining quite often lately, and Mingi hates the rain. He prefers to cozy up underneath his favorite blanket—yeah, it’s totally yellow and it totally has chicks on it, sue him, it was a gift from Wooyoung, after all, for his birthday two years ago—and whenever it rains, Mingi likes to drink some hot chocolate and watch a really sappy movie. If he cries, no, he doesn’t, at least he wouldn’t admit it to anyone—maybe Seonghwa, but that would be embarrassing still. He has an electronic piano in his living room snuggled up in the corner of the room, taking up quite the place of his already small enclosure, but Mingi is a musician, he needs his instruments at hand at all times. Hence the three guitars lining his wall in his bedroom, behind his back, as he’s currently clicking through folders on his laptop.

He needs to work on his music—he’s behind on two assignments, and the thing is, Mingi’s been inspired often lately, and so, there are many unfinished lyrics and beats waiting for him to return to and complete them, but most require of him to be in a certain mood. Like the one he is in right now, jittery a little bit, and maybe caffeinated to the point he should make sure his heart wouldn’t bail on him. Fear not, though, it’s not his first time. After all, Mingi is a university student and this is nothing compared to the three all-nighters he pulled one after the other last year after he procrastinated badly. If it wasn’t for Seonghwa and his worrisome nature—okay, maybe Mingi wouldn’t be here right now, but he tends to stop his brain from straying towards thoughts as such. He’s had dark moments in his life before, and recalling them would completely destroy his mood.

As he clicks open another folder, Mingi pauses. Okay, so, the thing is…Mingi is a loser. And he’s so deep in this unclear relationship—friendship—that’s got his mind preoccupied lately, that if anyone were to see the folder with her name in his laptop—yeah, he’d be mortified. You see, these songs aren’t about her, per se—they totally are, but Mingi is a scared loser and he won’t admit it just yet—these songs are for her. You know, from a friend to a friend—he hasn’t dedicated any songs to Yunho yet, but let’s ignore that detail—and Mingi really hopes that one day she’ll be able to listen to these totally friendly songs that aren’t about her. Yeah.

Mingi opens the newest folder and his eyes fall on the latest documents he’s been working on. He had composed the beat for this song a while ago, when he was still unsure whether Seonghwa and Wooyoung would be up to explore something that is more indie, but now it’s been the center of his attention for a while now. For two weeks, precisely. He’s meticulous when it comes to lyrics writing, it’s an irritating defect he has, at least that’s how he sees it. But his professors always praise him for how lyric and poetic, at times, his lyrics are, so he takes pride in that and tries not to get mad at himself for taking so long to finish one goddamn lyrics.

He licks his plush lips and pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his nose as they were close to slipping off. And sue him, really do so, but he has noticed her staring at his glasses quite often. And her eyebrows always furrow just a little, deep eyes hyper fixating on his nose and glasses. Mingi can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure she’s bothered by his lack of unbotheredness whether his glasses are slipping off his nose or not. Sometimes he forgets he’s wearing his glasses, that’s why. He clicks on the document and it opens, so he takes his headphones and puts them on, pursing his lips as he grabs one of his notebook’s and a pencil.

‘Me and you/Me and you are fireproof’ – The beat starts off simple, nothing too crazy or jumpy. Mingi wanted the beats to be calm and chill, kind of crawl in your ears at the first listen. His raspy voice is smooth too, void of its usual raspiness this time. He can rarely control that, but after much experimenting, Mingi realized if he loosens his throat enough and sings deep in his throat, his voice comes out softer and less raspy.

‘Always try to blame my youth/I just wanna be your muse’ – The beat is steady, Seonghwa will love the fact that he gets to play the drums so early into the song, and Mingi’s voice drops significantly. He loves playing with intonations, he loves putting emotion into his words, into his voice. It’s like a play for him, a game of playing hide and seek with whichever emotion he wants to show or mask through his voice. Right now, it’s sultry, it’s breathy, and it’s exactly the way he’s intended it to be.

‘Neon light leads us to the end of time/'Cause I can see infinity in your eyes, in your eyes’ – Mingi closes his eyes as he lets the music take over him, pencil tapping against his notebook rhythmically. And he’s taken by his own words, finding himself relating to them more and more as days pass by. Whenever he closes his eyes, he can see hers, deep and dark in its color, blending in with his, always holding his gaze fiercely. Mingi’s been told that he’s an intimidating person at first glance—eyes, nose, cheekbones sharp—his face expressive and rarely hiding how he’s truly feeling, but that’s just first impressions, because Mingi is anything but cold or unfriendly. And whenever she holds his gaze, Mingi cannot help but try to ignore the way his heart jumps in his chest, pulse quickening. And whenever she smirks or her eyes crinkle from her laughter, Mingi thinks he’s getting deeper and deeper into this mess he’s created for himself.

‘You and I got some troubles we're facing/I know we can make it staying high in low places’ – The beat drops for a second, and then the instruments are back with Mingi’s voice, accompanying each other well, the rhythm picking up just slightly. Mingi can feel the words crawling together in his brain now, his body jittery again as he grins, gripping his pencil tighter. The chorus is good, but he hasn’t been able to write past it, but it’s coming to him right now.

‘Never mind all the tears that we wasted/I know we can make it staying high in low places (ooh)’ – And Mingi remembers the night he found her in his favorite diner, looking like she’s been crying for a while now, eyes rimmed red and nose and cheeks flushed. The rain had soaked her clothes, her hair sticking to her face, and Mingi swears he hasn’t seen anyone more beautiful than her. He wishes he knew when it all started, this—infatuation he feels towards her—but he’s clueless. Or maybe he’s not, maybe he’s just afraid to admit that he’s seen her around campus before and found her breathtaking. Maybe Mingi always has had his eyes on her and has just opted to remain in the shadows, because quite frankly, he sucks at approaching people and initiating anything. And maybe the day Wooyoung showed him pictures of Seulgi on her Instagram account, he had spotted her next to Seulgi, maybe Mingi’s heart had started racing with a stupid flicker of hope in it. Maybe Mingi really is on the brink of dropping a random ass confession onto her, but he knows she’s not ready, and he’d hate himself if he ever made her feel uncomfortable. He knows someone has hurt her gravely, and he wants things to go right this time. He can’t fuck it up.

‘In your arms, in your arms (ooh)/High in low places’ – Mingi thinks she can take him higher than anyone else, show him a whole new world. If there’s one thing he thinks can compete with her beauty and wits, it’s her art. Mingi doesn’t know much about fine art and paintings, but he knows goddam well that whoever that Monet guy was that she loves so much had nothing on her—and as you can see, Mingi is down bad, because Claude Monet was, and still is, a legend of Impressionism.

Mingi ruffles his dark hair, it’s gotten a little longer, and adjust his glasses again before he grins, jotting down the next words that will turn into the lyrics of his song. He’s composed the song with Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s timbre in mind, and he knows their voices will fit beautifully, complete it with a harmony that his unfortunately lacks. But that’s the beauty of their band. Each one of them has a particular charm that the other one lacks and they complement each other in a subtle, yet obviously gorgeous way—and well, Mingi isn’t a narcissist, but he is a Leo, and he can’t deny that their looks aren’t eye catching as well, definitely another asset of theirs that just so happens to add to the charm of Noir Zenith. – ‘Wasted days/Wasted 'til we're MIA/Stuck inside a desert haze/I just want to slip away’

Friday (11:30 am)

Me: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Mingi was restless. He thought that when had texted her that he got home safely—you know, after they hung out at her place, waiting for the rain to stop while killing the time by watching a movie and they have almost kissed—Mingi really thought she was just busy. And he still thinks so, because why would she ignore his messages? He’s texted her a few times already and she didn’t even bother to read them. Mingi wasn’t expecting anything from her, wasn’t trying to push her, but he was a little bit restless now. Sue him, but he couldn’t help himself. He took another glance at his phone, waiting for his messages to be read, for her to finally start typing back, but there was nothing. And the fact that her contact name stared back at him as if it was mocking him wasn’t helping with Mingi’s racing thoughts. He was an overthinker, after all. In case you were wondering, Mingi has saved her in his phone as: her (my artsy girl).

Yeah, maybe Mingi was a lot more into her than he had realized at first. But to be fair, there was nothing wrong about saving her like that. She is an artsy girl, and she’s—Mingi doesn’t want to elaborate on that just yet. And so, he’s pacing up and down in his not so big living room, walking around his couch and glancing down at his phone every few seconds. Okay, he’s effectively going crazy right now and he wants to pull out his hair. Which isn’t a smart idea, he fears his handsomeness stops at him going bald. And okay, maybe he’s spiraling. Maybe his heart is about to fall into his ass, and maybe he’s trying to take deep breaths in order to not pass out. Maybe Mingi is handling the radio silence horribly. Actually, make that horrifyingly bad, that’s how he’s not handling all this.

If he stops for a second and takes a deep breath, ripping his glasses off in frustration and rubs at his eyes quite painfully, he can feel it all coming back. The warm feeling he’s felt while they settled into her bed, the way his eyes lingered on her pursed lips as she searched for a movie to watch. And her room—let him not even get started on her room, Mingi fell in love with it. It’s just so her that he feels like he knows her a lot better now that she’s allowed him inside her safe place. Her drawings and paintings were breathtaking. He—he saw the drawing laying on her bed, sketchbook all open and shit, and yeah, he fought every muscle in his body to not grin and jump up and down in excitement at the replica of him in her own sketchbook. Mingi knew she would draw him sometimes, but now he’s wondering just how often she finds herself drawing him. Does that mean she thinks of him often? Or does she just simply get carried away and mindlessly draws whatever person comes to mind first? But if that’s the case, why would he come to her mind when she wasn’t even fixating on him?

Mingi is a mess, alright, he’s panicking. He’s panicking because he can still feel the ghost of her warm breath against his cheek, the feel of her soft skin. He was right there; the opportunity had been beautifully given to him—and he does not regret not kissing her. Yeah, he kissed the corner of her lips, because he wanted it to be her choice whether they actually kiss or not. Don’t get Mingi wrong, if it were after him, he fears he would have devoured her ages ago, but after so many years of struggling with his own emotions, he became really good at restraining himself, at having control over himself in tense situations. It’s both a curse and blessing in disguise, because he really just should have kissed her, dammit. Why is he such a considerate gentleman? They didn’t even kiss and she’s ignoring him now. Great job Mingi, you tried to avoid a disaster only for it to still become reality. Sometimes, he hates himself, but he thinks that’s okay. Everybody hates themselves a little bit at times, even if they deny it.

Mingi chews on his bottom lip and decides to place his phone face down on his couch and meditate—Mingi doesn’t know how to meditate. The air is chilly outside and maybe he forgot to pay some bills so his heater isn’t exactly working at the moment, but fear not, Mingi is a big boy—he’s a man, alright—and he will pay his bills. Tomorrow. So, due to this itsy bitsy tiny little fact, he might be bundled up in his sweater. Well…the sweater’s his now. It wasn’t his two days ago. It was her cousin’s, more precisely, but since she gave it to Mingi, it’s his now. And if he wears it almost every day, no, he doesn’t. It bogs his mind a little bit that it just so happens to resemble the same sweater Yunho used to love, to the point his mother had to hide it from him, that’s how often he’d wear it—and maybe this is another factor that makes Mingi cling to it that much more. Maybe the fact that it’s from someone he really likes, and the fact that it makes him remember someone he really loves, fucks with his mind. Especially if seasonal depression is hitting hard. He’s trying to fight it; he’s trying to do better—he’s promised Yunho and himself that he’d do better—but he feels his chest get heavy, and he hopes Seonghwa hurries his ass over before he can spiral even further into the madness his thoughts bring with themselves.

And Seonghwa, like the angel he is, does indeed save Mingi from the doom that has been looming over his head. There’s a knock at Mingi’s door and he jumps up from the couch, racing to the door. He makes it there in three long strides, his apartment really isn’t that huge. Seonghwa is smiling at him softly as Mingi opens the door for him, and so very out of character, Mingi lunges for his close friend and engulfs him in a tight hug, “Thank you for coming.”

Seonghwa is speechless and frozen for a second, but then he chuckles, “My, my, my, you must have been really lonely if you’re so happy to be in my company.”

“I’m always happy and eager to be in your company, Hwa.” Mingi says with a pout and makes way for his friend to step inside. Seonghwa chuckles, his round eyes twinkling under the light of Mingi’s lamp. It’s barely noon but rain clouds are gathering outside once again, and Mingi hates it with all of his soul. Why is it raining so much lately? Isn’t it supposed to snow, rather? It is almost the end of November, after all.

“I know.” Seonghwa whispers as he ruffles Mingi’s hair, having shaken off his coat and discarded his shoes at the door, he walks further inside Mingi’s apartment. He’s been here plenty of times, and he knows he can make himself at home and do whatever. Mingi doesn’t really mind. Seonghwa has a tote bag in his hands as he nears Mingi’s round table in the kitchen area—Mingi’s living room and kitchen are just one big room, divided by nothing—and Seonghwa starts emptying his bag onto the table. Mingi walks closer, peaking at the items Seonghwa has brought over. Dye and bleach. Okay, maybe Mingi’s at the brink of a lapse of judgement, but he knew Seonghwa wouldn’t bat an eyelash if he randomly called him up and asked him to help him change up his hair. Mingi’s been wanting a change for a while now, it’s almost unfortunate that she is the one that pushed him into enough ‘madness’ to finally do it. She is a catalyst for quite a few things happening in Mingi’s life right now, or so he had noticed.

“Are you sure you want to bleach your hair, Mingi?” Seonghwa’s voice carries doubt as Mingi leans his hip against the table, grabbing the bleach out of Seonghwa’s hands.

“Yup, pretty sure about it.” He mutters, his lips pursed as he turns the box over a few times.

“How come?” Seonghwa mirrors his pose, hips resting against the table and arms crossed in front of his chest. He has that critical look on his face, and Mingi considers for a second if it was smart to ask Seonghwa over Wooyoung to help him. Wooyoung is nosy, but at least he can be easily distracted. Seonghwa, however, he presses and presses until he gets the truth out of you. Mingi sometimes hates that, there are no secrets in front of Seonghwa, yet he holds too many secrets.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, actually.” Mingi tries to sound nonchalant as he absentmindedly lets his fingers run through his dark locks.

“But?” Seonghwa raises one eyebrow and Mingi’s lips purse as he averts his eyes.

“Can you not interrogate me this time?” Mingi’s voice is whiney, nothing Seonghwa isn’t used to, “I just really need a change, no big deal.”

“Okay, fine, I believe you.” But Seonghwa doesn’t sound completely convinced as he says that, and Mingi offers him a very fake grin, smile boxy and full of teeth. It makes Seonghwa chuckle as he takes the bleach out of Mingi’s hands, and grabs his tote bag before he makes his way to Mingi’s bathroom. Like a puppy, Mingi follows after him as he grabs the dye, and turns on the light switch for Seonghwa as he places everything in his hands down on Mingi’s counter in the bathroom, “Silver blonde, then?”

Mingi hums and closes the lid of toilet, sitting on it as he watches his friend, “It’ll be a hard process though, I don’t promise I’ll be able to pull it off right away.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Mingi shrugs, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, “You’re pretty great at these type of things, I trust you.”

“Yeah, well, Hongjoong didn’t see my vision when I dyed his hair half blonde and half black.” Seonghwa huffs under his breath, still pretty salty about his boyfriend not liking the look as much as Seonghwa, and quite literally everyone else around him did. Mingi chuckles, still remembering Seonghwa sulk for a few days because of it. It was endearing how much Hongjoong’s opinion mattered to Seonghwa. When the two were together, Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled, and his skin glowed, his laughter more frequent, and disposition overall just happier. And Hongjoong—Mingi’s known him for four months now, that’s how long the two had been dating for—and despite Hongjoong trying to remain impassive around his lover, it was so very obvious of how in love he was with the taller one. Hongjoong rarely smiled, but when he was with Seonghwa, his cheeks would hurt and flush a light shade of red. Mingi quite quickly realized Hongjoong loved looking at Seonghwa, his eyes somehow always straying onto his lover, lingering there with profound love written all over his face. Mingi was witness to the almost disastrous end of their—at that time—short lived relationship as Seonghwa’s insecurities got the best of him and drew him away from Hongjoong. But Hongjoong didn’t give up, and partially thanks to Mingi—and Wooyoung—here they were now, happy and in love, looking forward to many more years together.

“Hongjoong is quite daft at times.” Mingi finds himself saying as he rolls his eyes, making Seonghwa pause his actions as he looks at Mingi sharply.

“You would never dare say that to his face.” And Seonghwa was right, Mingi would rather shit himself than badmouth Hongjoong to his face. That man might be shorter than Mingi himself, but he’s certain Hongjoong would drag him through all levels of hell and embarrass him to the point he’d be on the verge of tears—simpler put, Hongjoong is ruthless and sharp, and Mingi is scared of him.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dare say that to his face,” Mingi shudders, making Seonghwa almost smile, “He’d make me suffer in my next life too, if I did.”

“Serves you right for always talking shit about others.” Seonghwa chuckles, making Mingi scoff.

“I don’t even do that, hey, I’m just honest.”

“And dumb, but what’s new.”

And just like that, Mingi finds himself half an hour later sitting on the cold tiles of his bathroom floor with Seonghwa, second round of bleach all set on his hair and burning just a little bit his scalp—Seonghwa reassured him multiple times that he wouldn’t go bald, but Mingi is still skeptical about it. A little bit too late for that now, I guess. Seonghwa had placed two towels on Mingi’s shoulders, one at the front and one at the back, to protect Mingi’s sweater in case the bleach dropped on it, and they were kind of dragging down Mingi’s sweater’s collar, but he wouldn’t complain about it just yet. They would be taking the bleach off soon, and he knows Seonghwa would go off on him for whining when all of this was Mingi’s idea in the first place. Music is playing softly in the background, and Mingi tsks as Seonghwa accidentally overlines his pinky nail, smudging his skin too with black nail polish.

“You’re so bad at this, Hwa.” Mingi groans, grimacing as Seonghwa’s tongue is stuck out as he concentrates on painting Mingi’s nails black. They were far from perfect, and Mingi’s heart mourns for a second, until he realizes it kind of looks cool. Edgy. Maybe Seonghwa is onto something.

“Yeah, because it’s usually Hongjoong who paints our nails, and not me.” Seonghwa’s gaze is sharp as he throws Mingi a look, Seonghwa’s own nails painted, but an obnoxious neon pink. It is a little bit out of Mingi’s comfort zone, but Seonghwa said he liked the color and wanted to try it out. And who is Mingi to judge? Plus, he would’ve been a really bad friend if he didn’t do as his close friend wished.

“Okay, done!” Seonghwa grins, closing the black nail polish and putting it aside, “We should wash out the bleach too, before you actually go bald—”

“Seonghwa!” Mingi screeches, getting to his feet in an instant as he faces the mirror on his wall, gaping at himself. His hair is a yellowish color; however it is turning whiter by the second.

“I’m just kidding.” Seonghwa snickers, and then, as if a bulldozer hit the side of the building of Mingi’s apartment complex, his front door is thrown open, and a loud screech resounds through the open door of his bathroom.

“I’ve arrived!” Undoubtedly, the high-pitched voice belongs to none other than their dear friend, Wooyoung, “And I’ve got pizza!”

“Lock the door!” Seonghwa calls out as Mingi leans over his bathtub, letting Seonghwa rinse out the bleach tenderly from his hair. Finally, Mingi’s scalp had felt like it was on fire, but he was too scared to let Seonghwa know. Now, he prays his fair won’t fall out completely. There is shuffling outside the door and then, Wooyoung in all of his glory, barrels through the open door.

“Damn, it smells like poisonous gases in here.” He gags, placing the pizza boxes on the floor as he beelines it for the small window, “And your music sucks.”

“Fuck off!” Mingi hisses, twisting his arm to give Wooyoung his middle finger, “Limp Bizkit is a great band!”

“Yeah, if you like noise.” Wooyoung huffs and suddenly the music is stopped, making Mingi groan as Seonghwa just chuckles, massaging the strawberry smelling soap into his hair.

“You are the noise here, Wooyoung.” Mingi fires back, making Seonghwa snort loudly as Wooyoung puts on some pop music, making Mingi groan. He isn’t in the mood to listen to pop music right now.

“Stop bickering,” Seonghwa says, rinsing the soap out of Mingi’s hair, “and feed me some pizza, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung happily obliges as he opens one box, a slice already missing as he had eaten it on his way up to Mingi’s apartment, and he takes a slice for Seonghwa. He walks over to his two friends, and before he can feed Seonghwa, Wooyoung throws his left arm around Seonghwa’s waist and nuzzles up against his back, making Seonghwa sway and spray the side of Mingi’s face with water.

“Hey!” Mingi yelps as water enters his nose, making Wooyoung cackle into Seonghwa’s back as he hides his face in his friend’s back, inhaling Seonghwa’s familiar scent. Wooyoung can be a complete menace at times, but Mingi and Seonghwa would never admit they love him the way he is. It is hard not to when Wooyoung is such a good and respectful person.

“Oops, my bad!” Wooyoung giggles as he finally releases Seonghwa and holds pizza slice up to his mouth as Seonghwa takes a bite while putting conditioner in Mingi’s hair.

“You can see yourself out if you’re only here to disturb our piece of mind—Wooyoung!” Mingi, it seemed like, is Wooyoung’s target for the day as he had slaps Mingi’s ass hard, enjoying the way he is bent forward and over the bathtub. It makes Seonghwa laugh loudly, the cute sound has Mingi giggling too, and in no time, the three of them are shaking with laughter, reveling in each other’s company. There is nothing more healing to Mingi than spending his time with his closest friends—and Yunho, of course.

『In your arms, in your arms

Staying high in low places』

More days passed and Mingi was helpless. He really doesn’t understand whether he has done something so deeply wrong to deserve this—to be ignored by her. It’s Sunday, and his texts weren’t even read. He thought of calling her, but ultimately talked himself down and found something else to do. Like write his sappy lyrics that is about her. Okay, Mingi has to admit this one. He feels like he is going crazy, and the problem is that he could talk about it to someone, but he just doesn’t want to. Not yet, at least. He is scared if he says it out loud, it would become reality. Her, leaving him. Not that they are together or anything, but Mingi just simply doesn’t want to lose the friendship that’s blossomed between them over the month. It was gradual and not sudden, he knew she still had some prejudice about him and didn’t fully trust him, but they were making progress. And now Mingi hates himself for the near kiss. If he had been a little bit smarter, more in control of himself, it would’ve never happened. And it kills him that he can’t turn back time, but would it change anything? Would he actually do it differently? Would he when she was looking at him with eyes that were shining with curiosity and want? When her expression was inviting and warm and yearning? Yeah, no, Mingi has self-control, but not to the point to stop himself from giving in when someone looked to be wanting just as much as him. And Mingi has to stop thinking about her, for God’s sake he’s been trying so hard over these past few days that he’s convinced he’s finally going mad, so when Wooyoung texts him that they are going out for dinner later tonight, Mingi jumps in delight and starts getting ready.

And they go to his favorite diner too—where him and her had met, and she was all wet from the rain and crying due to something unknown to Mingi—and he has to stop thinking about her when he’s with his friends! The atmosphere is light and cozy, lightning dim but not to the point you can’t see, and the music playing is retro and if Mingi turns around, he can see an elderly couple dance around happily, laughing and talking to each other. His stomach coils at the sight, and he tries to fight the yearning and sadness that tries to overtake him, he really does.

“So, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung breaks Mingi’s intense gaze and mindless thoughts, “how’s that art gallery looking?”

Seonghwa blushes for a second, and hides his mouth behind his palm as he tries to chew his chicken nugget faster, “Good, good. I found a spot for it, finally.”

Wooyoung beams at that and Mingi can see Hongjoong trying to bite down his smirk, “That’s amazing! Why haven’t you said anything?!”

“He thinks he’s gloating if he says anything,” It’s Hongjoong who answers instead of Seonghwa, and his answer makes both Mingi and Wooyoung roll their eyes at his words, “He thinks everything he’s achieved lately isn’t because of his own merit—”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa flushes even more, his cheeks already tinged pink from the alcohol he had consumed during the evening, “Why would you say that to them?!”

“So that there’s someone else other than me praising you for your hard work and letting you know that you are the reason these things are happening to you, my love.” Wooyoung pretends to gag when he hears the endearing words leave Hongjoong’s mouth, but Mingi just smiles and takes a sip of his own beer. It’s been a while since he had drunk, he felt the need tonight. He had hoped it would help him unwind—it wasn’t working so far.

“You need to stop having this impostor syndrome, Hwa.” Mingi hears himself talking, eyebrows furrowed as he steals a fry off of Wooyoung’s plate. The shorter one makes a sound of displeasure, and in a petty revenge, steals a pickle off of Mingi’s plate.

“Let’s stop talking about me, please.” Seonghwa says with a sigh, eyebrows furrowing, and it’s obvious he isn’t feeling comfortable. Mingi pretends he doesn’t see Hongjoong place his hand on Seonghwa’s thigh and squeeze. Mingi pretends he doesn’t suddenly feel a pang of jealousy towards the couple. They worked through their differences and doubts, and here they were, in love and going forward. Why could Mingi not have that too? Why did everyone abandon Mingi in the end? His parents told him he had to fend for himself if he chose to be a musician, and if it weren’t for his grandparents funding him until he has finished university—he doesn’t want to think where he’d be. Yunho had once abandoned him too, left him alone in this city, letting him unknowingly almost destroy himself. Wooyoung, now, has Seulgi and he spends a significant amount of his time with her, and is rarely up for their schedules gaming nights, Mingi feels abandoned. Seonghwa is like he has always been like, but he’s not as spontaneous as before. Sometimes Mingi just wants to go on night drives and listen to music and Seonghwa isn’t available because of Hongjoong anymore, Mingi feels abandoned.

“How’s the deal with the label going?” Hongjoong speaks up after the prolonged silence, not uncomfortable by any means, and Mingi heaves a sigh as he downs his beer in one go. Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at that.

“We’re still negotiating the terms, payment, and all the gist.” Mingi mutters, placing his chin in his palm. He’s not drunk, nor tipsy, but he feels a light buzz in his head. One more pint and he might just become tipsy.

“I see,” Hongjoong hums, rubbing his lower lip with two fingers, “But they’re treating you well, right?”

Hongjoong, as usual, is wearing fancy clothes. It’s a Sunday evening, yet he’s dressed to the nines. Mingi feels a little uncomfortable because of that—and just what’s his problem?! What’s gotten into him today? He’s never been like this before; he feels annoyed at himself.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mingi mutters, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Wooyoung, despite being labeled as someone who talks and talks without paying attention to those around himself, has picked up on Mingi’s displeased mood, and scoots his chair closer to his. He grins widely at Mingi and throws his arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling Mingi into his side. Mingi doesn’t say anything despite not feeling up for the physical closeness, and allows Wooyoung to pinch his cheek.

“Lighten up, dude, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks, but not loud enough for Seonghwa and Hongjoong to hear as they have started softly conversing about something. Seonghwa is smiling, eyes narrowed and the way he’s leaning towards Hongjoong have both Wooyoung and Mingi knowing that he’s saying something inappropriate, and if Hongjoong’s eyes widening isn’t confirmation for Mingi and Wooyoung, then Hongjoong choking on his water certainly is.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Mingi gulps, picking around his food before he steals another fry from Wooyoung’s plate and dips it into his own ketchup, “I think I’m tired.”

“Dude, it’s a Sunday evening, how are you tried?” Wooyoung is confused as he finally releases Mingi, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s happy for the separation.

Mingi thinks for a second, though, and makes up a stupid lie, “I still haven’t recovered from yesterday’s game.”

“Right.” Wooyoung doesn’t believe him and it’s nothing new to the both of them, Wooyoung sees right through Mingi’s lies. Everyone does, actually, he can’t lie to save his life, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I just—” And Mingi almost goes off, but he abruptly remembers where he is as people start clapping behind him, “Nothing, I’m just tired. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung whispers while looking disappointed, and Mingi suddenly hates himself for making his friend feel like that. He can’t help but think he’s made Wooyoung feel like he’s not worthy of knowing Mingi’s thoughts, of knowing what his heart desires. And he wants to talk about how much it affects him that she hasn’t texted back—and probably won’t, Mingi came to the realization—but there’s a lump in his throat that is kind of making him choke up right now. And when he hears Seonghwa giggling, and he looks up, Hongjoong is leaning towards Seonghwa with a mischievous look on his face, and then Seonghwa steals a kiss from his boyfriend that makes Hongjoong freeze. Wooyoung is typing away on his phone, and Mingi knows he’s talking to his girlfriend, Seulgi, because who else would Wooyoung be talking to? And the lump in Mingi’s throat tightens and he abruptly stands, heartbeat quickening. His three friends look up at him alarmed, and Mingi’s embarrassed, but he can’t help himself as he grabs his phone off the table and pushes it in his pocket.

“Sorry, guys, I’m not feeling well.” Mingi croaks out, clearing his throat as his tone wavers, “I’ll head home now, you enjoy yourselves.”

“Hey, Mingi,” Hongjoong has concern written all over his face and it makes Mingi almost cry. He hates how sensitive he is, “I can drive you home—”

“That’s cool, man.” Mingi is shaking his head at the offer, he needs fresh air and a long walk to try and clear his mind, otherwise he’ll have a panic attack. He can feel it, and he does not want that.

“Mingi—”

“Seriously.” Before any of his friends could insist more, he throws his jacket on and waves at them. And then he’s out of the diner in a second, feeling a little bit bad for not greeting Dahyun first, but the place feels too stuffy and warm for him to stay inside anymore. He takes off and tries to take deep breaths, but his lungs won’t expand fully. His hands are slightly shaking as he grabs his phone out of his pocket and he unlocks it, staring down at her contact. Nothing, still. Mingi’s heart clenches and he bites his lower lip, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. He can’t do this anymore; he feels like he’s breaking. He doesn’t understand why she won’t at least give him an explanation. Fine, she doesn’t want to be friends with him anymore, but she has to explain why. Mingi won’t rest until he doesn’t know the reason, and it’s making him crawl up a wall. He dials a number before he can even think more about it, and he finds himself teary eyed at the familiar male voice.

“Hey, Ming!” It’s cheery as always, and Mingi knows Yunho is smiling on the other end, “Fancy seeing you call, it’s not like I haven’t heard your voice like—four hours ago.”

“Yunho.” And Mingi feels horrible for worrying Yunho, because the last time he called his best friend and sounded like this—things were bad. And by the way Yunho goes quiet before he gasps quietly, Mingi knows he fucked up and he shouldn’t have called when he feels so all over the place, but he needed to hear his best friend’s voice, he needs Yunho. Because there’s no one else like Yunho in the world. No one else who understand him like Yunho. No one else who knows him like Yunho. No one else who’s always been next to him like Yunho has been. No one else who loves him unconditionally like Yunho does.

“Mingi, what’s wrong?” Yunho sounds panicked and before Mingi can stop himself, a tear falls down his cheek, “Please, talk to me. Do I—do I have to come home? I can drive down right now, but it’ll take two hours—”

“Yunho,” And Mingi’s now crying as he crosses the road quickly, walking to a park that’s dimly lit so he can cry in peace, away from prying eyes—not that there are many people out at this hour, “You don’t—don’t have to come home, I just—I’m so confused, and I’m tired, and I need someone.”

“Mingi, you have me, tell me what’s wrong.” Yunho’s voice is soft and Mingi is grateful they aren’t on facetime, because he’s positive Yunho’s eyes are filled with tears right now, and that would just make him cry harder. He tries to wipe at his cheeks, but the tears just keep coming, and the lump in his throat gets harsher and makes it a little hard to speak, but Mingi powers through.

“I met this girl,” He sniffs loudly and takes a deep breath, and Yunho is quiet, listening closely, “you know her, I’ve talked about her a few times.”

“The girl who paints and draws, right?” Yunho asks just to make sure.

“Yes.” Mingi sniffs, his tears becoming fewer, “And she’s—there was a heavy rain on Thursday and I drove her home before it got that bad, but I would have had to wait for it to pass in my car—but she invited me inside. And it was fine, it was fun and everything went well and then—then I—she—we almost kissed. Her mother got home and she interrupted us, and it’s just, she was a little weird right after it, but—she—she hasn’t texted back since Thursday, Yunho. She didn’t even look at my messages and I sent her plenty. I—I don’t know what to do because I think—I think I like her a lot, Yunho, and I don’t want to lose her over something so banal. We’re not even a thing, we’re just friends, but I—I don’t want to lose her too.”

What a word-vomit, Mingi thinks, as he sniffs loudly and rubs at his nose and cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, sitting on a bench as he pulls his legs up and hugs them to his chest. Yunho is quiet for a second on the other end, until he sighs long.

“Oh, Mingi,” He sounds sad, and it makes Mingi chew on his bottom lip again, holding back a new flood of tears, “That’s so fucked, what the hell! I know you feel like shit, and I know what you are thinking right now—I’ve known you for my whole life—so, please, stop blaming yourself for her own actions and reactions. You didn’t do anything wrong and she should treat you better. You don’t deserve to be ignored and you do deserve an explanation. I’m sorry I can’t be physically there for you.”

“This is enough.” Mingi whispers, feeling his heart less heavy now that he’s said all that, “It’s enough that you listen to me and reassure me. Hearing your voice is enough too, Yuyu.”

Yunho chuckles on the other end and Mingi cracks the smallest smile, “You’re so sappy, but I’m glad I’m able to help even if I’m not there with you. I would tackle you in a big hug right now and definitely buy your favorite chips and go on a drive with you, if I could.”

Now, that makes Mingi sad again, dammit, “You know what? Maybe you should drive here tonight.”

Yunho snorts, and Mingi stands, determined to walk home now, “I am planning on going home in a few weeks, actually.”

“Why not tomorrow?” Mingi insists, eyebrows furrowing at having to wait that much more. It’s been almost two months since Yunho has come home.

“We’ll, I’ve already got—”

“Stuff to do and shit.” Mingi cuts his best friend off, already knowing what he would say. They snort at the same time and then break into quiet giggles. Mingi is content all of a sudden, head a little clearer and lump from his throat gone, finally.

“I miss you.” Yunho beats Mingi to it, and Mingi smiles from ear to ear as he turns onto his street, he doesn’t live that far away from the diner.

“And I miss you too.” Mingi says it back, tipping his head back as he looks up at the night sky. The sky is finally clear and he can see the stars and the moon. It makes him smile again, Mingi loves the moon a little bit too much, perhaps, “I love you, Yuyu.”

“I love you, Min.”

And to Mingi, there is nothing more therapeutic than talking to his best friend, hearing his voice, being in his presence and able to share his affections towards him. Yunho is too precious to him.

Sunday (1:01 am)

Me: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

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A/N: So, hi again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I have another surprise for you all hehet. If you are interested in Seonghwa and Hongjoong's story, I can happily tell you that I have created their own spin-off on AO3 and it's called Our Atoms Fusing. It's on-hold currently, but I am happy to announce that I will be picking up writing for that too, and it will have in total around 7~8 parts. So, check it out if interested! ^^ I've kept this a secret for long as I wanted the timing to be right lol, despite the hints I have dropped about them, I am so glad I can finally talk about it. Istg, I'm obsessed with these two, I can't wait to continue their story too! And sorry if there are mistakes, I'm spent lol.

Also, if you happened to notice the mistake I made, no you don't, shhh.

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